O little town

There is a 71-year-old man who lives in Triana, a barrio of Seville, Spain, that some consider its own republic. He is a representative for a company that sells "caramellos" (what we might call lozenges). Though that is his title, his passion is for his car. It's an early '80s model Hyundai Accent LS, olive green, splattered with dents and the dropping of pigeons that pass over the skies of Andalucia. \nHe's not a motorhead, nor does he even know exactly how many miles to the gallon his work of Japanese engineering can bear -- perhaps he'd know in liters, but that's a separate story. \nWhat makes his car special is not how it runs, but rather, what it holds.\nHis name is Rafael "Belen" ("Bethlehem") Dominguez, and in front of his rear windshield, situated above the trunk, nearly all year long sits a miniature reproduction of the nativity scene in that "o little town" we know of from the carol. \nIt comes complete with music that blares from his stereo, allocated to clandestine speakers that add a mystic Dolby surround to the matchstick diorama of the greatest story ever told. \nNow, when I got the chance to meet Dominguez, I was doing research for an article in a small student magazine associated with my study abroad program here in Spain. At the moment this Trianero had evolved, changing for the first time in 29 years his auto-décor for one that represented a Semana Santa procession for which Seville is famous. It came complete with a paper-flowered "paso" -- their baroque interpretation of a Macy's Day Parade float -- followed by the pointy hat wearing, unnervingly Klansmen-like figures named "Nazarenos." \nAmong the many things we spoke about, I wanted to discover above all exactly why he spends what he told me were months constructing these gaudy trunk decorations, making it impossible for him to carry passengers, and giving him the reputation for being, well, an old kook.\nI'll never forget what he told me.\n"Para hacer alguien."\nNow, I must keep his Spanish reply not only to be true to his words, but to illustrate exactly how important the message his phrase -- grammatically incorrect as it may be -- conveys. \nLoosely translated it reads "To do somebody." One might assume he wished to say "Para hacer algo" ("To do something") or "Para ser alguien" ("To be somebody"). But whether it be a slip of his tongue or a definite statement of truth, he said what is printed above.\nNow, as I start to pack my bags this week and bring myself back into the mindset of the States, his phrase still haunts me. Given the opportunities to reflect on all the wacky differences between cultures, all the brochure soundbites that plant the travel-bug in the hearts and wallets of American youth, his syntactical flounder won't let me be.\nThey say you'll find yourself when you leave the country. I say they're full of it. I'm more of the Richard Rosen school, who writes, "Traveling in Europe you don't discover yourself: You simply confirmed what you already were." \nAnd though we get a laugh and feel more cultured to find out that the Spanish are much more liberal in regards to viewing breasts in mass media, or that the English call flashlights "torches," or that the French don't all hate everything, there are some things we learn about each other that are far more important than anything we could "discover" about ourselves.\nThat we're all Rafael "Belen" Dominguez. \nWe're all trying to be somebody, trying to do something.