A Basque in Boise

Good news, Hella Basque blog is back!

Like me, many of you were probably saddened when, a few years ago, Hella Basque blog closed shop. We missed her posts and unique views on everything Basque. Well, today we have something to celebrate, as Hella Basque is back! Anne-Marie Chiramberro has revamped her blog and returns with renewed energy and that passion for writing we all remember. Enjoy!

In her words

Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, I am the product of an adorable short couple: a Basque wino father from the foothills of the Pyrenees Mountains and a shy, French American mother.

I spent most of my childhood involved in local Basque youth activities, notably folk dancing for twelve formative years of my life.  While I have retired the dancing shoes for now, I remain passionate about the promotion of Basque culture.

You can find me at Basque festivals across the American West during the summer.  Otherwise, I’m usually writing, practicing yoga, watching shows on Netflix, dreaming up my next vacation, and/or cuddling with my cat.

You can also follow Hella Back on InstagramTwitter, and Facebook.

 


Linguae Vasconum Primitiae: The First Fruits of the Basque Language, 1545 (Available in PDF)

“Out of a humble beginning, may better fortune follow.”

So ends Bernard Etxepare’s Linguæ Vasconum Primitiæ, likely the first book ever printed in the Basque language, in the year of 1545. Published in Bordeaux, the book contains a modest collection of poems, some religious, others love poetry, one autobiographical, and two extolling the virtues of Basque and its worthiness through publication to be included with the other languages of the world. Written in the Lower Navarrese dialect of Basque, the poems have found enduring fame among the Basques for their celebration of the Basque language. Included alongside the seminal translation by Mikel Morris Pagoeta is a comparative rendition of the original Basque. The book also includes a foreword by Pello Salaburu, the preface to the 1995 edition by Patxi Altuna, and an introduction by Beñat Oyharçabal.

“Other people thought it could not be written; now they have seen that they were wrong. Basque, come forth into the world!”

You can download it in PDF format from the Center for Basque Studies website here.

You can also obtain a copy of the English translation from the Center for Basque Studies bookstore here.

The following example is the Contrapas, which is a poem that broadly sets out Etxepare’s motivation for producing this book and his hopes for the language. Etxepare explains that he is the first Basque writer to have his work published in print. He calls for the Basque language to “go out” and become more widely known, for the Basques to blaze new trails and make themselves known to the world.

Original text

 

Text in Standard Basque 
English
Heuscara ialgui adi cãpora. Euskara jalgi hadi kanpora. Basque, go outside.
Garacico herria
Benedicadadila
Heuscarari emandio
Beharduyen thornuya.
Garaziko herria
benedika dadila
Euskarari eman dio
behar duen tornuia.
The town of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port
be blessed
for having given to Basque
its befitting rank.
Heuscara ialgui adi plaçara. Euskara jalgi hadi plazara. Basque, go out into the square.
Berce gendec usteçuten
Ecin scribaçayteyen
Oray dute phorogatu
Euganatu cirela.
Bertze jendek uste zuten
ezin skriba zaiteien
orain dute frogatu
enganatu zirela.
Other deemed it impossible
to write in Basque
now they have proof
that they were mistaken.
Heuscara ialgui adi mundura. Euskara jalgi hadi mundura. Basque, go out into the world.
Lengoagetan ohi inçan
Estimatze gutitan
Oray aldiz hic beharduc
Ohori orotan.
Lengoajetan ohi hintzen
estimatze gutxitan
orain aldiz hik behar duk
ohore orotan.
Amongst the tongues
in little esteem (you were)
now however, which you deserve
honoured amongst all.
Heuscara habil mundu gucira. Euskara habil mundu guztira. Basque, walk the world at large.
Berceac oroc içan dira
Bere goihen gradora
Oray hura iganenda
Berce ororen gaynera.
Bertzeak orok izan dira
bere goihen gradora
orain hura iganen da
bertze ororen gainera.
The others all have
ascended to their splendour
now it (Basque) shall ascend
above them all.
Heuscara Euskara Basque
Bascoac oroc preciatz?
Heuscaraez iaquin harr?
Oroc iccassiren dute
Oray cerden heuscara.
Baskoak orok prezatzen
Euskara ez jakin arren
orok ikasiren dute
orain zer den Euskara.
All praise the Basques
though not knowing the Basque language
now they shall learn
what Basque is like.
Heuscara Euskara Basque
Oray dano egon bahiz
Imprimitu bagueric
Hiengoitic ebiliren
Mundu gucietaric.
Oraindano egon bahaiz
inprimatu bagerik
hi engoitik ibiliren
mundu guztietarik.
If you have until now
were without printing
you now shall travel
throughout the world.
Heuscara Euskara Basque
Eceyn erelengoageric
Ez francesa ez berceric
Oray eztaerideyten
Heuscararen pareric.
Ezein ere lengoajerik
ez frantzesa ez bertzerik
orain ez da erideiten
Euskararen parerik.
There is no other language
neither French nor another
that now
compares to Basque.
Heuscara ialgui adi dançara. Euskara jalgi hadi dantzara. Basque, go to the dance.

 

For more information, check out the Center for Basque Studies website, or Wikipedia.


Have a minute to help PhD student Maialen Goirizelaia with her “Basques in the United States” survey?

Maialen Goirizelaia is a PhD student in the University of the Basque Country doing research on the Basque community in the United States. Last year, she spent a few months in Boise, working on her research here, and she is now doing the same in Boston. She is studying how the communication and relationship between the Basque Country and Basques living in the United States has evolved during the years, and the effect of Basques living here in the relationship between the Basque Country and the United States. She has been doing in-depth interviews in different parts of the States, but she would also like to have quantitative data. Because of that, she would really appreciate if you could answer this survey. Eskerrik asko!

 

Link:
https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSczKWUFKshEHPUkt1ga_AVRyR8nmWO6xctKgSI4a9fAmJQQsg/viewform?c=0&w=1


Amor prohibido (Forbidden Love)

Writing is like going to the gym; you stop for a couple of weeks and next thing you know you’ve been on the couch for months, about a thousand Netflix series checked off your watch list, unable to wake up your mind to write a story, or your fat ass to go for a run. I guess we all go through those stages sometimes, and it’s up to us to decide when enough is enough. I’m not there yet. I am happy living through the lives of those characters who become my friends during the two or three seasons of each show.

Luckily, this is not my daughter’s case. Unlike her mother, who could never write anything based off a fictitious situation, Maitane’s imagination is way more vivid, as you will see if you continue reading below. For a 13 year-old who doesn’t know much about love and heartbreak, I thought she did a pretty good job describing how much it sucks.

I hope she continues to write but, above all, I wish that she will find her “Miguel” – whether that’s man, a job, or a dream. More importantly, may fear (or Netflix) never stand in the way of reaching her goals.

 

Amor prohibido, by Maitane Hollenbeck

May, 2018

It was an average day in Madrid that morning. The fresh scent of spring embraced us when we stepped outside; a slight breeze tickling through trees as men quickly made their way to work. I had taken a morning walk with my husband Francisco to our favorite cafe, El Manfer. We both ordered our usual, me ordering a café con leche and him a strong tea. It was at this time that he liked to talk about his work and complain about his other co-workers that he couldn’t be less excited to interact with. I pretended to pay him any attention, being used to this everyday occurrence. My marriage consisted of him loving me, but me being unable to do the same for him. An uneventful and loveless marriage was worse than being alone. However, as a woman in 1926, you’d find that it was futile to so much as attempt to survive without a man. I figured that Francisco was a wealthy man who would allow me to sustain a stable life while loving me. He was a kind man that meant well, and we married within a couple of months of meeting. 

“Carlota, what is wrong now? It seems as if every morning you’re bothered”, Francisco would always say to me. I reassured him that I was fine and I quickly sent him on his way to work. I went on my usual way back home, always taking the long way to observe the stores and restaurants that would be considered too lowly for my kind and ridden with uncouth people. Isn’t it funny how people assume your personality for something as simple as how much money you have, or the places you go to eat? In reality, the people who spent their time there were the happiest of all. I had envied their way of living ever since I married Francisco. It was instilled in my mind from a young age that marriage should be the most prominent goal in my life; that without a man I would amount to nothing. I could almost hear my mother’s voice in that moment: Carlota, find a wealthy man and marry him. Mi’ja, don’t say things like that, a man won’t marry you if you act that way. After 20 years, you come to terms with the fact that that’s just the way life is. I reminisce, looking longingly through the windows. I suddenly catch my reflection, I snap out of my daze, and continue walking towards my house; my bland life.

I’m greeted by the familiar scent of my home: my Chanel No. 5 perfume and the fresh bread that I pick up from the bakery across the street every morning. I sit on the couch, pick up the newspaper, and begin reading. The story that day, like many others: Ah, yes. The country seemed fascinated by the fact that women were working at telephone companies; picking up calls and redirecting them. Yes, women, with jobs. It was revolutionary. “Hola, doña Almanza”, I’m suddenly interrupted by our maid, Blanca. “Is there anything I can get you?” I smile lightly, and shake my head. “No, thank you.” I think that Blanca knows that I’m unhappy in my marriage. In fact, I think she and I have that in common: Both stuck in a life we would change if the chance were to ever arise. Without wasting a moment, she gets back to her everyday life, cooking and cleaning like women are supposed to. I, on the other hand, promptly get up and walk out the door. I know that Blanca must’ve heard me leave, because she runs after me and hands me my purse. “Here, doña Almanza.” I respond, “Gracias.” And that was that. She didn’t ask me any questions; no, she simply turned and walked back. I had somewhere to be, someone to meet – and it wasn’t Francisco.

I could’ve taken the train, but I decided against it. Why would I rush to get somewhere? Why can’t I just live in the moment and why can’t others do the same? Always eager to be somewhere, always in a rush, and for what? Francisco was one of these people. He’d always say to me: Ay, Carlota, why are you this way? And I’d always respond: Because this way is the only way I know. I keep walking for another half an hour, finally arriving at my desired destination: the beach. He was there, waiting for me. It was rare to see him elsewhere, so I always knew where to find him. “Don’t you get tired of this same view, this same spot?” I would always ask him. “Of course not”, he’d respond, “because that would mean I was tired of you.” I stand facing him, and he lightly picks up my hand and holds it. “Carlota, I miss you”, he says. I don’t respond. It hurts to look at him, knowing that this was the outcome of his mistake. “Don’t.”

Miguel and I met when we were children; innocent and oblivious to the problems that would later tear us apart. We spent our days together for years, and, cliché as it may sound, we fell in love. We dreamed about traveling the world together, and neither one of us was interested in having children. We treasured every moment that we spent with each other, treating it like a gift, because that was truly what it was. Our love for each other was immense. When we were together, it felt like we were the only two people in Madrid. There was nowhere we’d rather be except together, for the rest of our days. Regular people wandering the streets would see us laughing and holding hands, and would briefly stop what they were doing, admire us in awe, jealous of what they always wanted but could never have, and turn back to their everyday life. I was more in love than I ever thought possible. We soon started discussing the idea of marriage, and that would be the beginning of our life; no interruptions, just the two of us. Neither one of us wanted a glamorous wedding nor did we want to invite anyone, all we wanted was each other. As the day approached, Miguel was distant and unsure. “Carlota, te quiero. I love you too much to let you marry me. The amount of guilt I’d feel for the rest of my life if I allowed you to commit such a mistake is immeasurable. I’m not wealthy; I wouldn’t be able to pamper you and provide you with all the luxurious things you please. What happens if one day, ten years from now, you realize that you don’t want me or this life we lead anymore? How could I live with myself knowing that I wasted your life? I couldn’t. Carlota, por favor, you need to find a man that can provide for you, unlike me.” 

I was speechless. I was confused, hurt, and experiencing emotions I didn’t even know existed. He looked at me, with sorrowful eyes. Miguel was always too careful with me, and would always put my happiness and well being before his. We were both silent for a minute. As he opened his mouth, I interrupted him.“No. Miguel, no. This is ridiculous”, I said as the tears brimming my eyes started to fall. “I love you, no matter what. Nothing you could ever, ever, do or say would make me love you less. I don’t care about money or luxuries or pampering; being with you is worth more to me than all of those things combined. I want you, and only you, for the rest of my life.” It was him who was crying now, and I could tell that what he felt was never-ending sadness. He kissed me lightly, and left. He turned away from me, on our favorite part of the beach, and didn’t look back. I screamed his name, crying, running after him, begging for him to come back. He never did.

It has been four years since that day. I fell into a terrible depression soon after, and have been ever since. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss Miguel. I’ve lost hope that Francisco will ever fill the void in my heart, because it is Miguel who closed it and the one who could reopened it. So, every week, I go back to our favorite part of the beach, that feels more like a constant reminder of my life before Francisco than anything else. I look up from the ground momentarily, and instead turn my gaze to the vast sea. “You said that in 10 years I would regret marrying you, that instead I should marry a wealthy man who could pamper me with luxuries and give me a pleasurable life. I did exactly as you said, Miguel. I did exactly as you said, but even still, I return to you. I always return to you.” He doesn’t let go of my hand, instead he pulls us both down to sit on the sand. I think I am the only woman in Madrid who doesn’t care about her skirt getting dirty. I know Miguel always liked that about me; not caring what others thought and not worrying about the little things, like staining a blouse or scuffing up a pair of heels. After a long silence, he finally brings his eyes to mine. “Carlota, in this day a woman is dependent on a man. How could I risk your life by tying you down to me, when I can’t provide for you?” Once more, he repeats his “logic” as to why he can’t spend his life with me. “Miguel, it’s been four years and you still believe yourself? I have done exactly what you told me to do four years ago. I have everything I could ever want, but I have never been more miserable. I have everything, everything but you.”

I watch him as he tears his gaze away from me. I recognize every movement of his body as he does this, the lines created in his shirt; the way his hair looks as the wind swiftly passes through it. “Eres el amor de mi vida,” he says, still not facing me. “I had to do what I did. Your life is more important to me than my own. I’m sorry I could never be what you needed.” Although Miguel was the love of my life, he was also just as stubborn as I was. “From the moment I met you I knew you were the one for me. There were no questions, no hesitations; I knew. If you don’t understand that now, I don’t think that you will ever.” I put an end to our conversation sharply. I slide my hand, still in his, out of the comfort and safety it provides. He turns back to me as I gracefully get up. Still carrying my heels, I walk away from our favorite spot; our memories. I keep walking, knowing that he is still watching me. I keep walking, until I am out of his sight.

I make my way back to my home, stopping at a cafe to meet my mother. We meet here daily, not being able to go to many places without a male chaperone. She knows about Miguel, but she never approved of our relationship. The moment we meet, she immediately suspects something. “You saw him, didn’t you?” She doesn’t even look up from stirring her coffee as she says it, she simply knows. I give a small chuckle as I respond, “It’s good to see you too, mamá.” My lack of response isn’t what she’s looking for, so she presses on: “You have a husband, Carlota. A rich husband that cares about you.” The way she says rich sickens me. “Ay madre de Dios. Siempre es lo mismo. Why are you like this? I simply cannot understand you. Your disapproval of Miguel was always surrounded by the fact that he wasn’t wealthy. I never cared about that, you were the one who did,” I hiss. We’ve made a scene, I can tell by the way people are looking at us. I couldn’t care less. “Adiós”. I leave within seconds of ending the conversation.  

I exit the cafe fuming, my pace quicker than usual. As I walk home, my level of anger diminishes. Although I’m upset with my mother, I can’t deny that she has somewhat of a point. I am married, but unhappily so. The more I think about it, the less angry I become. My anger is replaced with excruciating sadness. My relationship with Miguel will never have a future, but I can’t imagine a future with Francisco either, at least not a fulfilling one. I unlock the door to my home, glance at the clock, and sigh. 15:00. Francisco, I imagine, will be here shortly for the meal. I enter the kitchen, where Blanca is finishing up sopa de patata and lomo. I observe Blanca while she prepares the meal and cleans the kitchen. She is well aware that she’s being watched, but she doesn’t so much as glance up from what she’s doing. This time seems as good as nay to ask the question that has bubbled up inside me ever since I married Francisco. “Blanca, why are you here?” she turns abruptly, taken aback. “¿Disculpe?” I realize that the question is somewhat unclear when directed at someone who hasn’t been thinking about it their whole life.  “What I mean is, what would you rather do with your life than what you’re inevitably stuck doing?” She ponders the question, and stops what she’s doing. Her face lights up every so often, imagining what her life could’ve been. When she returns to reality, I suddenly sense a melancholic atmosphere filling the room. “Well, Carlota, that’s quite the complicated question. I guess I would’ve married the love of my life. His name was Pablo Espada and he was the kindest man I’d ever met. Our love for one another was unconditional”, she smiles as she reminisces. “We always dreamed of marriage, until he was sent away to Madrid with his father. We wrote each other for years, until one day we lost contact. Ten years later, I took a train to Madrid in hopes of finding him. I searched and asked around for months. When I finally found him, I was overjoyed. We embraced one another, and he held me like he was never going to let go. I thought this was the start of our new life together, but my joy was short-lived. As soon as we let go, a ravishing woman with a curled bob and perfect red lips holding the hand of a young child no older than three walked out behind him.

“His smile quickly disappeared as he looked back at them. He looked down for a brief moment and turned back to me. I will never forget the look in his eyes when he told me that the woman and the small child were his wife and daughter. I left without saying another word to him.” Blanca wipes the tears off her face, and we’re both quiet for a moment. She looks back at me, and continues her story: “He ran after me, his wife looking somewhat confused. He kissed me passionately, and I returned a kiss. He embraced me, and as he did, he whispered something in my ear: ‘I will never forget you as long as I live. You’re the love of my life and I’m sorry it has to be this way. Te quiero.’ Those are the last words he ever said to me. I was always broken, but that broke me permanently.” She looked up at me, and we locked eyes. As they say, the eyes are the windows to the soul. In that moment, I could see how broken hers was.

Blanca, I can tell, has never told this story to anyone before; not because she didn’t want to, but because she never had anyone to tell it to. Finally, I break the silence: “Thank you for telling me.” Blanca smiles lightly and beckons me closer to her. She places her hands on my arms, and tells me something I have never forgotten since that moment, and never will: “My biggest regret was not going with Pablo to Madrid that day because I was too scared. Look where I am now: loveless and alone, with no inviting future. Don’t let yourself become Blanca López; you are Carlota Almanza, a strong and ambitious woman. You have your whole life ahead of you, don’t waste it. He’s waiting for you, that man you meet every week. He’s waiting for you, and he loves you.”

She, without wasting another second, returns to preparing our meal. Blanca acts as if our entire conversation didn’t even happen, as if this was just another normal day. I, however, cannot act as if that conversation never occured. Today is the last day we will ever speak of this – but I can’t let this moment fly away just yet. “Blanca, how did you know?” she doesn’t so much as turn towards me. “Mi vida, I can smell it on your clothes, I can see it in your eyes, and I can taste your despair.” Before I can say anything else, Francisco walks inside. My nostalgia has suddenly disappeared; my hope of returning to Miguel is now foolish. “Hola, mi amor.”


Basque Stories Writing Contest from Reno’s Center for Basque Studies

The Basque Writing Contest from Reno’s Center for Basque Studies is open to all writing in English that has not been nor is in the process of being published elsewhere and has as its subject the Basques, Basque culture, the life of the Basques around the world, or other Basque-related topics.

PRIZES

1st Prize: $500 for the winner and publication consideration
2nd Prize: $150 Center for Basque Studies Press gift certificate and publication consideration
3rd Prize: Basque Literature and Classics gift pack and publication consideration

Submit via mail to:
Center for Basque Studies
University of Nevada, Reno / MS 2322
1664 N. Virginia Street
Reno, NV 89557-2322
or via email to basquestudies@gmail.com

  1. Submissions must be in Microsoft Word or printed on hard copy and more than 10,000 words and less than 100,000 words
  2. Submissions should be clearly identified and accompanied by a cover letter (or email) that includes the entrant’s name and contact information. No contact information should be included on the actual submission.
  3. Entries will not be returned. Please only submit copies.
  4. Submissions can be in any genre, including but not limited to: literary fiction, short story collections, creative nonfiction, memoir, and children’s literature.
  5. Self-published books may be considered.

Entries open on March 15, 2018 at 12:00 a.m. PST
Entries close on September 15, 2018 at 6:00 p.m. PST
Winners will be announced in November or December 2018

Held in conjunction with the Basque Studies Program at Boise State University.


Eloise Garmendia Bieter Chair 2018: Memory and Emotion – Women’s Stories (March 15-18)

The Boise State University Department of World Languages together with the “Eloise Garmendia Bieter Basque Studies Chair” would like to invite you to the International Conference on Cultural Studies titled:

Memory and Emotion – Women’s Stories: Constructing Meaning from Memory

FREE AND OPEN TO THE PUBLIC (March 15-18)

The inaugural World Languages International Conference seeks to address the issues of Emotion, Memory, and Gender from the perspective of Cultural Studies. It is also the objective of the conference to bring together both scholars and community partners, particularly individuals and groups who have relied on memory to survive emigration or forced displacement and have now found a home in Boise. Scholars from the Basque Country and US will present their research on the theme of the conference.

Download the program HERE.

The Basque Community History Project team will represent the Basque Museum by participating in a workshop on Saturday, March 17. Toni Berria, Connie Urresti and Patty Miller will speak about various elements related to the project and then attendees will be treated to a great selection of stories about women captured on video during the past two years of the project.

March 17 – Computer Science Dept., Room 221 Time: 1:30pm-3:00pm

The conference has organized also a panel formed by immigrant and refugee women that will discuss their adaptation challenges and successes to life in the US.

March 17 – Computer Science Dept., Room 221 Time: 3:00pm – 4:30pm

CONFERENCE LOCATIONS

Thursday and Friday, March 15 & 16, 9 am to 5 pm and Sunday, March 18, 9 am to Noon
STUDENT UNION BUILDING, LOOKOUT ROOM
1700 W. University Drive, Boise, Idaho 83725
Non-stop presentations (12:45 – 13:45 lunch break.)

March 17, 9 am to 5 pm
COMPUTER SCIENCE DEPT. – CITY CENTER PLAZA
777 W. Main St, Room 221, Boise, Idaho 83702
Non-stop presentations and community panels. (12:15-13:30)

INTERNATIONAL KEYNOTE SPEAKERS

Author ÉVELYNE TROUILLOT (HAITI) “Challenging Memories to Rewrite History” March 16 @ 4:00 pm – Student Union, Lookout Room

Dr. MARIJO OLAZIREGI (BASQUE COUNTRY) “Beyond the Motherland: Memory and Emotion in Contemporary Basque Women’s Fiction” March 17 @ 9:00 am – Computer Science Dept., Room 221- Downtown Boise.

FOR MORE INFORMATION

https://wlconferenceblog.wordpress.com

Nere Lete or Larraitz Ariznabarreta: wlconference@boisestate.edu


Udaleku 2018 Registration begins today, March 1

Every year NABO sponsors and a Basque club host Udaleku, a two-week Basque Culture Summer Camp. Participants ages 10-15 have an opportunity to learn more about their Basque heritage while having fun and making new friends.

If you are a member of the Basque Museum & Cultural Center (or any other NABO affiliated organization), and you would like to send your child to Udaleku, you can sign up this evening, March 1, at 7pm MST/6pm PST.

This year’s Udaleku will be held in Reno, Nevada, from July 8 to July 20. The camp will include music, dance, culture, language, and more!

2018 Udaleku

Where: Reno, Nevada
When: July 8-20
Theme: Bizkaia
Cost: $400.00
Ages: 10 -15 years
All participants must be 10 years old on or before September 1, 2018.

The camp fills up quickly (usually within the first 15 minutes), so it is recommended that everyone be at their computers at, or prior to 7pm MST/6pm PST.

The link to the registration form can be found at http://nabasque.eus/udaleku_application.html.

Udaleku Co-chairs:

ValerieKateValerie Arrechea (left)
NABO President & Udaleku Chair
Udaleku@nabasque.eus

Kate Camino,
NABO Co-chair
udaleku@nabasque.eus

WHAT IS UDALEKU?

Formerly known as Music Camp, Udaleku came into being in April 1974 when various Basque clubs joined together to create the North American Basque Organizations, Inc. (NABO) with the purpose of promoting and encouraging our common Basque heritage. Since those early days the bonds between Basques here in the United States have been strengthened and extended. The annual Udaleku sponsored by NABO, and hosted by one of our member organization, has contributed much to this growth.

The first camp was held in Boise, Idaho (Bogus Basin) in 1975. Since then, hundreds of young Basques have gathered for two weeks each summer in a different city of the extended Basque community in the United States. Under the direction of local and visiting talent from Europe, participants study Basque folk dance, music (either txistu or accordion), singing and games (such as the card game “mus” and “pala”).

Besides being a good learning experience, the camp offers the participants a great opportunity to develop ties and friendships with other young Basques from many states whose parents and ancestors came from both the northern and southern parts of “Euskal Herria” or the Basque country. The relationships formed over the two-week period increases the present and future interaction between all of our Basque clubs. Udaleku is a unique experience for both the participants–who meet other Basques from other communities–and for the opportunity to teach younger generations of Basque-Americans about their culture. The camp is meant to impart to young Basque-Americans an appreciation for the uniqueness of their heritage.

 

 


Literatura Susa: Download entire PDF books in Basque for free

I’ve started attending Basque classes again at the Basque Museum, after a few years missing in action. I got lazy, I guess, because I had people outside the class who kept me busy speaking in Basque. Overtime, I stopped chatting with them for various reasons, but I never signed up for classes again. I got overwhelmed with work and stuff, and I didn’t even care that my Basque was becoming rusty.

After returning home from Ortuella last summer, Maitane asked to get enrolled in one of the lower-level Basque language classes at the Basque Museum. As long as I had to drive her there and back, I decided I might as well get myself signed up again. I didn’t realized how much I missed our weekly meetings. My classmates are fun and our teacher keeps us engaged with readings, and lively conversation. Plus she always has interesting information to share.

This week, she told us about this online website that offers entire books in PDF format, for free! The books are written in Basque, either by Basque authors or translated from foreign languages, and are a mixture of fiction and poetry. The website is called Literatura Susa: https://susa-literatura.eus/ebook.

Go browse it! I am sure you’ll find something you like. I have already downloaded a couple of books. Hopefully they are not too difficult. If they are, I guess the Elhuyar and Morris dictionaries will have to be my best friends for a while!

 


From this week’s Astero: Carmelo Urza Scholarship

Astero‘s weekly bulletin always brings interesting news related to the Basque Country and the Diaspora. This week, we will learn about the Carmelo Urza Scholarship for those interested in studying in the Basque Country.

USAC and NABO are excited to partner on the Carmelo Urza Scholarship for study abroad in the Basque Country. Dr. Carmelo Urza, founder and CEO Emeritus of USAC (University Studies Abroad Consortium), credits inspiration gathered from NABO and its member organizations, in helping him create USAC. As such, a new $2,000 Scholarship is now available exclusively to students who are NABO members, or whose parents are NABO members, and are attending the USAC Bilbao or San Sebastian, Spain study abroad program during either fall or spring semester. Eligible students must have a 3.2 GPA or above, and the deadline to apply is April 1, 2018 for Fall 2018, and November 1, 2018 for Spring 2019. Complete information is available online at usac.edu/scholarships#urza and students are encouraged to contact scholarships@usac.edu with any questions.

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Meet Ur Handitan, the best program in Euskal Telebista

I discovered Ur Handitan a few months ago, after a profile by that name sent me a message through Basque online dating website, Kaixomaitia.eus. The picture on the profile was too good to be true, and the message a little weird. Apparently, a Basque language television program was looking for people to appear on their upcoming show about online dating. Unfortunately, they were looking for someone local and I live abroad, so no date and no television appearance. Just my luck.

Of course, I immediately googled “Ur Handitan” and found out that, yes, it is for real. So I opened Nahieran on my computer (Nahieran has all present and past shows aired by EITB in Basque and Spanish since its inception), and watched Ur Handitan for the first time. I loved it immediately. Since I started watching the show, they have covered all sorts of delicate issues like cancer, eating disorders, bullying, suicide, rape, down syndrome… You name it!

Whatever the issue at hand, though, Ur Handitan, and its host, Xabier Madariaga, have always approach it with respect, humanity, and tact. It is a moving experience to watch their program, and I’ve always wanted to share it with you, but the shows are in Basque with no English subtitles.

Until now. Ur Handitan’s last program, Motxiladun umeak (Kids with a backpack) centers on the effects dispersion of political prisoners has on those prisoners’ children and their families. It was so successful that people volunteered to transcribe and subtitle the show.

I found the episode on YouTube with English subtitles (thank you to whoever worked on it!), and couldn’t wait to share it with you. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

For Spanish subtitles, go here: http://pakitoarriaran.org/index.php/multimedia/videos/4835-motxiladun-humeak

Ur Handitan: Motxiladun Umeak (Kids with a backpack)