I’ve got a few photos to share from our walks last Sunday but as it’s all a bit of a mish-mash I thought I’d show you them over a virtual vermut!  It’s not so virtual as actually I just ate a handful of crisps and knocked back a whisky.  I seem to be doing that more often recently – it’s called Stepmothers little helper!
Lets start with a photo of Bonnie on her early morning walk – with her shadow friend

Then we went for a walk around Santa Eulàlia. The town’s full name is Santa Eulàlia de Ronçana which I jokingly think of as Santa Eulalia the Snorer. Roncar means to snore in Catalan but in fact Ronçana has nothing to do with that, except in my wicked imagination!

The town is typical of the region in that there is a lovely part around the old church and you can see how it must have been before the 1950’s when uncontrolled development of urbanisations turned it into the sprawly mess it is now. Walking through and around it you can see the good and the bad and it’s very sad that this happened to villages that were once full of character and now are giant housing estates with little character except where it peeps through in the old parts. This is the case with so much of the Valles Oriental. It’s too close to Barcelona and got suburbanised.

But then you are walking by the river and suddenly there is a feeling of countryside and times gone by. We came upon this Mas which was used in the Civil War to house refugees from occupied areas of Spain that had been taken over by Franco. I can’t remember the name of it now and a search on google hasn’t found it so I will have to add it later

The web site of the Santa Eulàlia Council has descriptions of many of the place of interest in the area. It is in Catalan and the stories about some of the old houses and farms are really well written. There is so much sadness in much of this landscape – the memories of the war and of the life that was ruthlessly destroyed during the 60’s and 70’s. There are still people who remember the old Santa Eulàlia and it must be hard seeing now the ugly buildings, the rubbish littering the edges of the river, the loss of green space.  So much of Catalunya – and of Spain – was violated in this way.

We saw a ginger cat prowling in a field by the path which reminded me of my dear old Dandelion in Cornwall.  Pep said ‘now all we need is to see Paris and Mazey (the other two Cornish ones)’  A few yards further on we came on these two – identical markings to Paris and Mazey!

 It was late but the restaurant near the church was happy to serve us something to eat. We shared a ‘truita d’alls tendres’ which is basically an omelette’s with young garlic plants.  At the bar was this little cupboard with figures of Joseph Mary and Jesus inside. It has doors so you can close it off when it is being moved.  I have again failed to find out what is the name of this thing although my partner called it a Sagrada Familia.  He remembered them being used in Granollers. They are shared between various households and throughout the year they move from home to home. An ambulatory altar!

So that was a Sunday walk – for once on flat ground and it was interesting to explore another place.