Today, cloudy, gray, a sprinkle of rain on the balcony. What a relief, frankly – much cooler (somewhat like a normal summer day in northern England!) – I feel as though I'm recovering from wilting, like a plant at the height of summer.
•••
A Girona
Yesterday, Girona. Much to do, lots of it tourist-style, but quite classy; also fairly refreshing in giving me change, energy, history.
First arrived at Xevi's place in Caldes de Malavella, an old Roman baths about ten minutes from Girona. Xevi had cooked particularly Catalan food – some tapas (a tortilla, butifarra with manchego cheese, olives stuffed with anchovies), followed by a rather grand platter of mixed chicken and prawns that had been cooked on a traditional base of tomatoes, garlic, olive oil. Very impressive, and odd in that Catalan way that mixes flavors most cuisines will separate.
Xevi's apartment is almost excessively IKEAcized – and I say that as someone whose walls are covered with Billy and Benno shelves – but very elegant, very restrained, very intellectual. He spoke most of the time about things that were very local, very cultural, very Girona, very Catalan – although I've always enjoyed the Catalan-ness of Barcelona and Sitges, this was much more intense, as is apparently typical in proud old Girona. Certainly I'd never gotten quite so clear about the fascination with and links with France – although this is much more about southern France; northern France can be as deeply resented as Spain itself is here. And, I suppose in keeping with the peripheral-Iberian discussion, we listened to a few minutes of some kind of Basque marimba – and agreed after one or two tracks that we'd both had enough of that, thank you very much.
Then a strenuous but enjoyable tour of Girona's old city: old metal foot bridges crossing the half-dried up river (made, as it happens, by Eiffel's company); an extended and constantly changing mass of old buildings, mostly medieval but overlaid on Roman ruins, with fragments of nineteenth-century imitations blended in and a little bit of modernismo. Very beautiful paths, gardens, arches, winding streets.
Although all of these buildings are engaging, as is the Call (the old Jewish section), the area around the Cathedral is almost alarmingly impressive – one gets an enormous sense of sheer power and money, that the Church was truly the source of everything important in this city. I told Xevi, you could see why anyone in their right mind would have wanted to become a priest. Underneath this – but not far under; there are a lot more Roman ruins left nearly complete than in most places – is the impression of a strongly built garrison, a beautiful but tough home from home for lonely Roman soldiers who were probably stranded here for much of their lives. (Although, even at the time, the distance from Rome to Girona was not so great – perhaps this was considered a rather comfortable post, certainly better than being sent off to battle Huns in the north, or to face weird primitives painted blue up in Britain.)
All seriously impressive, and deeply beautiful (especially the gardens and landscaping at the top of the city, which would please my eldest sister a great deal). Many tourists of course, but not so many as to make things annoying. I'm afraid I continued my acquisitive/greedy streak – we stumbled over the Benedictine-made liqueurs and candies I'd searched for at the store Caelum in Barcelona (because it was closed for holidays), so I bought three bottles. Which gives me a fairly serious task in my last three days: to get enough bubble wrap to pack these bottles up and get them back to my own distant English exile.
•••
Some fragments, from a train
... An air-conditioned train: I should have done this days ago – something different, a view of everyday Spanish life, a new city... inland, passing many small stations and towns in Catalunya: a wind in the trees – and increasingly there are trees: many recently planted, new forests in rows – others scattered, natural. Is Spain being replanted to reverse the ecological disaster from the end of the Golden Age, where massive deforestation for lumber to build ships flattened all its forests? If so, it's about time – and it might transform the land, once again: back from scrub and near-desert, to those endless, ancient deep forests...
... A handsome, athletic young mother with her baby in a pram – Freya would be very impressed. Though she looks very take-charge, even mannish (yes, I do gender theory but I'm permitted to say such things) – broad cheekbones, dark blonde hair and an even tan – when the train is rattling the holds the child with such tender intimacy; you get a sense that this is a child who will never feel unloved, who will have a strong emotional base in later life (and may thus grow up to be as confident and competent as her, or his, mother).
... The slow late night train from Girona to Barcelona, then to Sitges: all chaotic and delayed because of extensive work on the tracks all over Catalunya – evidently they are rather heroically trying to overcome one of the stupider innovations of Franco's era, when Spain rebuilt its tracks to a different width than the rest of Europe in order to prevent invasion by train (? – such a demented, evil old man he was). Here is that European August you don't generally see in Sitges – the one of masses of young people from all over the world, all with backpacks and sport clothing and guidebooks.
... Another time it would be nice to go on to Figueres, to see the Dali museum. Xevi says it's the only thing there is to see there; and normally I treat Dali with some of the scorn that is the inevitable response to his cheesier work – but an entire museum, with bizarre architecture and objects, in that mindset would certainly be, at the very least, different. Next time...
... A favorite Spanish moment: a man, in order to make a gesture that is of course invisible to the person he's talking to on his mobile phone, waves his hand away from himself – with the phone in it – thus becoming inaudible, and having to repeat himself... perhaps, this time, with a different way of emphasizing things...
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