Vulgar people hold a fascination for me that borders on the perverse. I love observing them.The world is full of trashy people, especially the town I live in: a tasteless beehive of trashy people of the lowest type. And so there are many opportunities during the day to take pleasure from this hobby of mine. Watch out! I have said “OBSERVE”, like an entomologist, but without mingling with them at all.
I love shopping at the food market. Not only because the products are much better than anything you can buy at a supermarket, but also because there, among the stalls, I can easily find notable representatives of the most unrefined and ill-mannered society. Of course, whenever I go to the market I need a translator (it is usually my husband who takes on this role in order to make the communication fluent). They speak Spanish, like me, but grotesquely deformed by a hideous accent, their words shortened to the point of being unrecognizable, their scant vocabulary limited to a hundred of those words at the most. Most of these people tend to embellish their verbal shortcoming with a profusion of facial expressions, wild gesticulation and shouts.
The worst for me are the female guffaws. When I hear some of those foul-mouthed damsels, arms akimbo, letting out a loud laugh typical of a spiteful harpy my hair stand on end. I feel both horrified and fascinated at the same time. Is it possible to be so vulgar? Yes, it is. The more aristocratic a heart is, the more striking is the contrast with their diametrically opposed ones wherever they travel. As I have said, I love observing these people.
Sunday flea markets are always swarming with this crude breed for the maximum of pleasure and suffering of all my senses. I find it absolutely impossible to understand what they say, because most of them are of Gipsy, Maghrebi, Latin-American or Slavic origin.
From so much mingling sometimes their accents have merged and, for instance, I have noticed lately that the Moroccan owner of a clothing and trinket stall has incorporated to his linguistic corpora the Calo idioms of one of his employees, a gipsy with hirsute sideburns who sings and claps in time while selling the goods.
Hurrah for cultural interchange! It is said that mixtures produce better results and increase strength and resistance. But of course I think that it will depend on what or who you mix, won’t it? This is what happens with cooking recipes: a prestigious chef plus top-quality ingredients result in the most exquisite dish, whereas a drunk DJ plus junk food…THE LAST STRAW!