Not bitching about a name

Citadel of the town of Bitche

There was something I knew about Spanish culture before we moved to Spain, but it still astonishes me every time I come across it. That’s how often the name ‘Jesus’ is still used in this country. Most nations that regard themselves as Christian seem to avoid the name, perhaps thinking that it would be a little sacrilegious to use it, but not Spain.

It’s used for both men and women (in the latter case, preceded by a more obviously female name). So, for instance, the present Minister of Finance is a woman called María Jesús Montero. I read recently that, as part of her drive to reform the Spanish tax system, she’d appointed a commission to look into what needed to be done, to be headed by a prestigious economist and university professor, Jesús Ruiz-Huerta.

An initiative blessed, not just once but twice, by the name of the man seen by Christians as the redeemer of all mankind? Well, I may not believe in all that, but I admit it does sound like a fine way to commend your endeavours to divine protection. Let’s hope it works.

Still, that wasn’t the story about names that appealed to me most this week. The other one concerns a small town in the Eastern French department of the Moselle. A Guardian article entitled ‘Life’s a Bitche’ had me laughing out loud while Danielle was driving the car, and had her smiling when I passed on the news, especially as it reminded her of a pleasant experience from years ago.

When we were living in Strasbourg, Danielle and I once travelled into the Moselle to help out a friend, who wanted her son driven to his father’s house for a few days. The father was Stephan Balkenhol, a sculptor who had recently achieved real breakthrough in the artistic world. We were happy to have the chance to see his workshop and chat to him about his work, and weren’t disappointed: he sculpts wood and his workshop, with an unusually high roof, was dominated by what looked like the best part of a pine trunk hanging from a pulley, so he could rough-shape it with a chain saw. 

It was quite an eye opener to see how how technology and art blended.

One of Stephan Balkhenol's hallmark wooden sculptures

To get to his place, we had to go through the pretty town of Bitche. We liked the place with its historic centre dominated by its citadel. But what makes the recent talk about the place amusing is that it wasn’t for its prettiness, but because of its name, or more specifically, the problems its name had caused with Facebook.

In its wisdom, that fine organ of social media had decided to shut down the town’s page. ‘Bitche’, you see. Not the kind of language Facebook can tolerate. The town got blocked.

Valérie Degouy, spokesperson for Bitche, said she tried sending messages Facebook up to ten times a day, without success. Eventually, she created a page called ‘Mairie 57230’, or ‘Town Council 57230’ where 57230 is Bitche’s postcode, and that worked, even though there are plenty of references to Bitche on the page.

The Mairie 57230 Facebook page

Eventually, the fuss in the media, and social media, finally got through to Facebook and the page has been restored. Bitche has its footprint in social media once more. And, of course, has enjoyed a great deal of free publicity.

Which it deserves. It’s a lovely little town. Worth a visit.

When sense prevailed: the Ville de Bitche page restored

Particularly apt was the comment from the town's mayor, Benoît Kieffer, who thanked Mark Zuckerberg and paid tribute to: 

...our American friends who under the flag of the 100 Infantry Division came from South Carolina to liberate our town: liberators who called themselves, with pride, the ‘sons of Bitche’

Incidentally, the car trip when I came across the story and shared it with Danielle was taking us to the town of Jérica. Another name full of potential ambiguity. You can imagine that, as soon as I could, I went to take a look at the state of the walls.

The walls of Jérica have come tumbling down
But the views are stunning

I can report that, though it was never as far as I know visited by Joshua, its walls have certainly come tumbling down. Just like Jericho’s. 

Which doesn’t stop it being as pretty as Bitche, and as worth a visit.

Jérica as seen from our bedroom window