One of the greatest things about being
a Wide Body Jetsetter is the wide variety of travel adventures I get
to have. Make no mistake; I’m not one of those “adventure
travelers” who climb bloody rocks and crap in the woods for fun. By
‘travel adventures’ I mean: I’m the type who slowly meanders
on-and-off the beaten byways of Europe, looking for new beer, new
junk food, and new kinds of people and cultures. So I can make fun of
them.
Not the food and beer, mind you; I have
nothing but respect for those things. It’s the various weirdly
fucks and their bizarre cultural quirks that give me a smile, a
chuckle, and a snicker. Way before I was a Wide Body Jetsetter, back
when I was a thin high school geek who had never been on a plane, me
and the boys giggled about poop jokes, as pubescent geeks do. And
farts. Oh the joy which spreads upon the face of silly boys upon the
explosion of a good gutbuster. But imagine my surprise when, as a
Wide Man Walking in Barcelona, I came upon HIM.
EL.
EL CAGANER.
And some things cannot be unseen.
Barthelona
We were wandering through a Christmas
Market in Barcelona one cool and sunny day. The fact that it’s cool
and sunny in Spain around Christmas is an excellent reason to go to
Spain. Or Australia. I think I had consumed my 5th or 6th
tall can of Estrella thervetha on a park bench, and I was
practicing my Spanish lisp. Imagine my surprise when I found out that
Mexicans say ‘cerveza’ and millions of Spaniards
(Catalonians, probably; don’t quote me) pronounce it in a very
queer way: ‘thervetha.’ And BarTHelona. Etc., etc.,
ad nausea. Just add nausea. 10 tall cans of thervetha ought to
do it.
Then the little woman appeared after
shopping and dragged my drunk, lisping ass to yet another shopping
experience: the Xmas market. I was totally down for that. It was
either get moving or fall asleep on the park bench. After my
ridiculous language lesson (self-imposed), I was totally ready for
some chestnuts roasting on the open fire.
EL CAGANER
What I was definitely not ready for was
EL CAGANER. El Caganer is like El Mariachi, only uglier and smellier.
El Caganer likes to hide and wait for unsuspecting tourists to waddle
by, then he drops his pants to let slip the dogs of poo. No one is
safe; men, women, and children suffer his deadly doodie. Well, the
kids mostly chuckle.
I didn’t find
any chestnuts roasting on an open fire, and Jack Frost was nowhere to
be seen. But there were nativity scenes aplenty, all over the market
square. They had full villages in miniature, full of peasant
figurines, donkey figurines, and manger figurines. The little ceramic
figures were straight from El Biblio: the 3 wise hombres, a manger,
Mary, and the little bambino Hey-Zeus.
And just around the corner, I saw the little figurine which can’t be unseen: El Caganer was squatting behind the manager, dropping trou and poo—within pissing distance of Baby Jesus! WTF? There he was, about as out of place as an asshole on the elbow, porcelain butt out, delivering a prodigious poo.
It was the transgressive thrill of
having the strict dogma of religion sullied by this blasphemous image
of a crapping figure of a Spanish peasant, no doubt some sort of
heathen/pagan. It was that non sequitur moment where the holy meets
the obscene, like that Piss Christ art by Andres Serrano.
But it was also the graphic nature of
the porcelain poo. It wasn’t all cute like a poop emoji with a
smile, deposited under the buttocks of the blasphemer. Nossirree Bob.
It was hanging, all-squidgy-like, caught in flagrante, as it
were.
But Wait! There’s More!
What could deliver such a visceral
attraction/repulsion than El Caganer? A whole army of Los Caganers,
in a Spanish market square, lined up like ducks in a row at a county
fair. Naturally, you can buy your own trinkets at a Christmas market,
and all the figurines needed to make your own home Nativity scene. You
can buy wise men of every color, size, and stripe, with many
variations of Mary and Baby Jesus.
But you already knew the most popular
figurine in the Spanish Nativity: El Caganer. That’s right, folks,
people lined up in droves to buy the shitty little figurines, and
peddlers were turning a brisk trade. You could buy the ‘original’
Catalonian Caganer, dressed in red and white peasant clothes, or any
matter of other Caganer you can imagine. This shitty little bastard
takes many forms, including celebrity Caganers, Politician Caganers,
young Caganers, old Caganers, black ones, brown ones, and red ones
(skin and poo).
This was starting to look like a fecal
fetish. Wait. Were we in Germany? No scheisse videos to be
seen anywhere, but we did see an Angela Merkel figurine doing some
scheissemachen. Even Obama brought his Presidential black
booty to the lineup of famous politician Caganers. And he was smiling
something fierce.
The Tao of Poo
El Caganer isn't just an irreverent
little shit copping a squat behind the holiest of holy scenes in
Christendom. Nossiree, Bob. There's a reason for his squeezin. That's
right, there's an entire philosophy behind the buttockal blasphemy.
But of course there is.
While the Brits devote entire libraries
of literature and comedy series devoted to bum jokes and poo humor,
we Puritanical Americans bury the basic crudity of rude bodily
function under mountains, heaps, and piles (as it were) of euphemism.
As if living in constant fear of biblical plagues (as puritans do),
some are so afraid of saying 'bowel movement' that they say 'b.m.' as
a euphemism for the clinical term. Talk about some tight-ass
motherfuckers.
Fortunately for America, our only
saving grace is the cousin of El Caganer, Mr. Hanky. Otherwise, we
would be lost.
Rather than hiding the poo or burying
it under dunghills of euphemism, the Spaniards embrace the Tao of
Poo, understanding that the complete biological process of
eat/drink/pray/love/shit is also a religious experience. To wit:
Menja bé, caga fort i no tinguis
por a la mort!
Eat well, shit heartily, and don't be
afraid of death!
And those saucy Spaniards would say
this before a meal. Gotta lovem, those tapa-munchin' munchkins.
They would also wish us a Feliz navidad! And my wide ass would also like to wish you happy holidays,
whatever form they may take for you. And howdy ho!
