Just in case yesterdays photo failed to show how beautiful the bathing pool is here at the campsite I thought I’d show you another one this morning.
I am working on the computer which is balanced on a rubbish bin outside the toiletblock by our tent. My mobile phone is also plugged in recharging and lying on the edge of the drain!
I’m on the road and the b****** mobile won’t let me send blog posts so here is a quick one sent from the most wonderful campsite in the world!
Or that is how it seemed today when I was swimming in the river.
Here are a few photos from the trip. Hope to connect again soon from the next wifi zone!
Day One
It all starts with my first cup of hot chocolate in France! It’s runny! The ones in Catalunya are thick
We stayed in a campsite by the Midi Canal – they were friendly people and let us set up camp on a patch of ground by an unused cabin as the site was actually full. It is August in the south of France so each night is a test of faith in the angels who watch over us. And I give thanks for the blessing of Pep who does the asking!
The walk along the banks of the canal was lovely with a mixture of barges – some deluxe with a swimming pool on top and others just simply beautiful
Day Two
We are by the river near the Gorges du Verdon at the campsite in Salernes.
Duna watched from the river bank but had a quick dip later!
Every day there is high humidity and often………a downpour.
Today the rain turned to hailstones and the rain was so fierce it came in through various holes in the roof! And through the door to the terrace which I had left open! There were little pebbles of ice on the carpet.
Is this summer? I often have to remind myself which month we are in – can it really be July, the time when normally I am seeking out shade and rejecting most of my clothes as they are too hot for comfort. This evening I was thinking I needed a jacket for sitting in the Jijonera to drink an orxata.
I am feeling better after yesterdays outpouring.
Women Who Walk with Wolves also reminded me that for creative energy to mature and grow there must be times when we take on the inner assassin and face those dark questions about who we are and what we are doing.
(I notice here that the book is actually called Women Who RUN with Wolves. How typical of me that I slowed it down a pace!)
The assassin, the predator within us, is that voice which tells us we are no good and periodically it tries to knock us down and destroy what we are making. Then is the time to gather strength, take a breath and fight back.
Today in Granollers I went shopping. Against a terrible fatigue of body and spirit I walked down to the centre of town and tried on shoes. It is the time of the July sales – called Rebaixes in Catalan. Pronounced ‘rebashes’
I don’t know what this sign means – how can a sale be %?
While in one shop looking at bags I heard a big kerfuffle in the shop next door – Pull and Bear. A large group of people gathered to enjoy the show. Everyone started to talk and shout and smile – it was like we were waking up from our shopping dream.
After a lot of noise and yelling, two women came out with pushchairs, arguing with the security guard and eventually walked away up the road. Then someone saw the Mossos (police) arriving from the other end of town. A shout went up – Here, Here, Quickly, Quickly!
The crowd, which now was acting as one, pointed in the direction of the women and the police ran past – three, four, five of them. Later I saw the security guard return with some tee shirts in his hand and also the girls talking with the police in a discreet alleyway. What was incredible was the crowd energy for the chase – wow, I wouldn’t like to have those people after me. A few moments before they had been barely alive.
Well, that’s enough excitement for today! A storm and a robbery and two new pairs of shoes.
No bag – though – look at the price!
Sometimes I don’t know what to write here. After all it’s not a diary and shouldn’t I be entertaining you? But if my mood is ‘interesting’ or complicated then I have trouble knowing what to say or how to say it.
If you would like to see something funny that caught my eye tonight then here is a photo of a shrine by the side of the road. I don’t know what came first – the statue or the brickwork.
Here it is….
And if you are here because you like to know what is going on for me then this part is for you. If you prefer to read interesting cultural things then this bit might not be your cup of earl grey tea!
I don’t like the unsettling cloudy humid weather which spoils our plans to go to the beach or watch Life of Brian in the open air cinema.
I keep crying over little things.
I feel a failure at everything I try to do – I can’t drive like Catalan people, I don’t know how to use the Samsung phone, cooking is difficult, we are getting nowhere with finding a new home with a garden. The resident adolescent still ignores me. I can’t speak Catalan, understand Catalan, remember any words in Spanish, wear the right clothes, look presentable in a photograph, etc etc
I went to a family meal and spent three hours at the dinner table in almost total silence. Half way through I lost my ability to smile and nod. Not much later I lost the will to live as my spirit left my body and floated somewhere up on the ceiling watching my abandoned body continue in some reflex way to lift the glass of cava to my mouth and drink…..too much.
Remember at school those skipping games where you have to run in while the rope is turning, jump a couple of times and then exit without breaking the rhythm? There were always scary girls who confidently popped in and out without any trouble. I was not one of them. I would stand at the entrance for ages, bobbing my head forward and back as I tried to find the right moment to make the move. Then I would chose the wrong moment and catch the rope on my ankles or around my neck.
This is how I feel when faced with groups of people speaking in Catalan in a social setting. The words are fast and constant. You need confidence to get in there. And if you jump in at the wrong moment, the conversation stops, everyone looks at you as if you are stupid, and you just want to run away and hide.
And if you don’t try to jump in they look at you anyway, asking ‘what’s wrong with you?’
Driving for example. I love driving and taking to the road but I hate having to speed along because that is the ‘right’ way. The ‘Catalan’ way. I don’t like overtaking when there is a lot of traffic – somehow the same bobbing head syndrome kicks in and I have to take deep breaths before claiming my space in the fast lane.
My brain feels tired. I feel dizzy and muzzy. I wake too early and go to bed too late.
I want to go HOME – but I don’t know where home is.
Many people have said to me that they couldn’t do what I am doing.
They couldn’t come and live somewhere different, learn two languages, have a new family and an adolescent step child in a different culture and begin all over again with work and friends and everything. Honestly in many ways it hasn’t been too difficult but….right now…..I’m not sure I can do it either.
I want to – but I am tired of feeling that I am always failing.
Is it because I am not good enough? Perhaps the task is just too hard!
The swift that I tried to rescue wanted to fly. Again and again she stretched her wings and launched off into the unknown only to crash down head first onto the ground. It was hard to watch but I loved her desire to survive. Eventually she got tired and had to rest. In the end she accepted this, and let go to death.
She tried and failed and it wasn’t her fault – it was just too hard. I feel very poised on this edge, facing this question, and although there are helpful hands around me, it is a lonely moment…..can I fly?
Now, for anyone who is still tuned in, here is a lovely little car I saw on Carrer Corro last night. This is my kind of car, ideal for pootling along enjoying the journey without having to feel bad about not going faster or being bigger or more stylish or a different shape or colour
And especially for Oreneta, Bodhi, Christine, Pearl, Pepsi and all those who leave me messages,
this is for you
Here I am again in the new park. It is a place only used by runners and dog walkers at the moment but the signs are that soon it will be officially open and I suppose then it will be full of people as well as rubbish. Today the new chairs and bins had arrived
Duna had the pool to herself
I’m always on the lookout for bird shapes
Today only photos – I can’t think straight enough to write more. Granollers is quiet with so many people away and soon I will be one of them!
