granollers is lovely and peaceful at lunch time. especially now as so many people are away on holiday. and at last the sun has broken through the clouds.
summer time
Author: Kate Wilson
happening
the final day of summer school. music. food. a film we made. dancing to On the Floor. clowns. and we all added to the mural. thanks to ideas from andy warhol we ended on a high note and all the goodbyes included see you next year1
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Bar hopping in Barcelona
Barcelona for an afternoon and a night.
It’s always a treat and this time was especially good as I saw a friend who I haven’t been able to catch up with for months. She was the first local friend I made in the city – about 6 years ago – and has always been a source of laughs, advice, support and interesting places to visit.
If not for her I would never have found the Hare Krishna vegetarian restaurant near Plaça Reial, or the women’s library near the Palau Musica Catalana, nor the milk bar where I had my first orxata experience. And I would not have stayed for 6 weeks in a tiny flat in Palma Sant Just which is owned by a friend of hers.
So, we met at Drassanes and with the use of her Bicing card we cycled all around Barceloneta and the Ribera.
First we sent to the nudist beach Sant Sebastia for a swim. Only to find that hardly anyone was nude which is very unusual. The next night on the news I saw that the recent law on nudity on the streets has been used to stop people stripping off on the naturist part of the beach. They said there were complaints from ‘the neighbours’ Ummm…..there are no houses there – only the new and incredibly modern and expensive hotel W which sits at the far end of the beach
Possibly the complaints came from that direction?
We went along to take a look at the bar and the vestibule – it is very luxurious and comfortable
At every door there were people guarding the entrances – any old riff raff from the beach definitely not welcome. But we walked confidently by
Afterwards we went for a genuine vermut in one of my favourite bars near the Barceloneta market
It was very busy so we just stood at the counter and eyed up the cheeses and sausages.
At every stop we put back the bicycle in the stand
then took another when we were ready to go. Bicing is such a convenient and sensible system and the promenade by the beach is the perfect place to go spinning along with the wind in your hair.
Next stop was a Kebab cafe for falafels and hummus …..and a couple of beers!
Still not too wobbly we managed to negotiate the traffic and get to the narrow streets of the Ribera, the area close to Santa Maria del Mar. It was Saturday night and everywhere was buzzing. It’s not easy winding around people as they dither and dawdle along but bikes and people seem to mix fairly well in these tiny streets. My friend could ride along, snaking between people but I was less practised and had to keep jumping on and off and ringing my bell.
We went into a bar – Valentina on Regomir – which is full of armchairs and bookcases. You can take books away if you bring in new ones so the titles are constantly being added to and refreshed
We found a comfortable corner, pulled out some books, ordered wine and a mojito and settled down to read in peace for an hour. After such a busy evening it was nice to just rest and relax with a friend with no need to talk.
Next morning I went back to my favourite square for a coffee and croissant – It’s just beside the Esglesia Sant Just i Pastor which is a 4th century church I often visit for quiet meditation.
I am soon setting off on travels to France and Italy and then on to Cornwall and won’t be back here for a few months. It feels strange to know that when I return, hopefully with two dear dogs in the back of the van, it will be harder to make these short trips to Barcelona. So every moment of this one felt extra precious and sweet.
Speaking of journeys – I forgot that we started off in the Maritime Museum with a coffee and chocolate croissant. There is an exhibition there now about a big storm that happened in the Mediterranean in 1911 – a year I always notice as it is when my mother was born. I don’t know what the connection was with the exhibit in the courtyard of a ship and its passengers but it made a good photo!
I feel am setting off on a new adventure, waving to friends and family as my boat sets sail to goodness knows where. If all goes to plan and I return to live with three dogs in Granollers – I will be Dog Woman!
Last Week of Summer School
Here’s some paintings we have done. Guess who the featured artist is this week?
A Swift Story
If birds come into my life I pay attention
The robin that flew round the room when I revisited my old home in Inverness, the white owl that very very occasionally flew across my vision when I was driving home from Penzance, even the two little ceramic birds that I bought when I was back in Cornwall. They both were survivors of a shelving accident and had broken tips to their wings. I brought them home to Granollers and Pep glued them back together again.
A week ago today I was in my room which I call my Niu – my nest. It looks onto the terrace and at the door there is a sort of gully where the steps start. I noticed something dark and fluttery right in the corner of the gully. It was a bird, unable to climb out. I put it onto the terrace tiles and it stretched its wings and identified itself instantly as a swift.
Then started two days of intense relationship between me and the bird.
I found a wonderful web site that suggested ways to help a young swift take to the air again. But it had some injuries to one wing and also seemed inexperienced in flight.
We tried to launch her on the terrace – resulting in several bad thumps to the ground. I gave her water and she drank. She allowed me to lift and hold her up to the air without a tweet. She just looked around with interest. Whenever she felt the air brushing her feathers she would start to flap and thentake off. But it always ended with a fall to the ground.
After a few attempts she got tired and I left her in a shady spot.
Day two and she was nowhere to be found
I knew that swifts cannot get off the ground once landed. Their wings are so long and their legs so short that they can’t push off unless they are up high on a ledge and can launch from there. She disappeared so of course I assumed she had died in a corner. A few hours later I heard rustling from the patio one floor down and looking over the railing, I saw her bobbing around on the floor. She had found herself a ledge on the edge of the terrace and launched once more but unfortunately there wasn’t the space to fly and she took another rough landing. But survived!
In the late afternoon I took her up to the fields above Granollers, beside the tower. It is a place I go often when I need some space and fresh air.
It was a sad and worrying walk from the house up to the top with the bird quietly waiting inside a shoe box. Once there I held her up in my outstretched palms and did what the experts recommend, gently raising and lowering my hands so the air flow encourages the bird to open her wings.
After a few moments she took off…… and then fell to the ground.
We tried again…..this time she went a little further. She was so determined yet each fall seemed to me so violent. But there is no other way. The third flight was the longest and I willed her to stay up but she lacked strength and ended up in a bush. After that she was happy to stay in my hands and stretch her wings but showed no desire to try again. We plodded home and I found her a bigger box with air-holes and added lots of flies and mosquitoes to her home. She didn’t want to eat from me although she would drink drops of water from my fingers.
It is such a sad thing to see a swift on the ground – it’s just totally the wrong place. Perhaps there are other birds who could manage an earthbound life but a swift must fly.
The next day I had to go to Barcelona with my friends and I left her resting at home. She seemed quiet and sleepy. There was someone to look out for her during the day.
When I got back in the evening, she had died.
That is the story of me and the Swift. I love these birds and watch them every day from the terrace. It was a huge honour to be able to connect so closely with one and very painful to watch her plight.
I’m glad she was able to go gently and will not forget how strongly she tried to survive.
