The Vote on Independence will take place on November 9th 2014

I would love to explain why exactly I have not been writing here in the past months but the truth is I don’t really know.  I think about writing and take photos to illustrate interesting posts, I even talk about writing but then I do nothing. 
Or worse – I turn to Facebook or to my computer game of Borraco!
 
According to a wonderful and insightful blog post about procrastination by Wait But Why, I am wallowing in the ‘dark playground’ because my internal ‘let’s just play games instead’ monkey is scared that actually writing a post might be painful, or hard work, or even too difficult to complete. 
 
And if ever there was something I want to put off doing it is writing about Catalunya and the Independence vote.
It is a long and complicated story.  I arrived here just over five years ago without any knowledge of the political situation, or the history or the culture and as I am trying to read the news in Catalan gaining understanding is not easy.  That is partly why I have been writing this blog – to inform myself by pretending that I am informing you!
I can’t explain what is going on right now in Catalunya without writing a rather long post, but the day of voting is drawing near and in fact it is due to happen this very Sunday on November 9th.  As I write a blog about Catalunya, I must say something…. but where to begin, or more accurately where to stop?
 
I am going to dive in and just hope for the best. You may know the basics already but just in case you have been doing something else, here goes.
 
Catalunya is presently an autonomous region of Spain. But it wasn’t always like this – about six hundred years ago it was a powerful and independent country and even after it was swallowed up by Castille after a royal marriage, it still retained quasi-independence.  It has its own language, culture, history, habits and customs and the people feel very strongly that they are not Spanish.  This is a bit complicated as after various population migrations there are many people who are both Spanish and Catalan (and of course there are many other nationalities including Scottish!).  Everyone who lives here is considered Catalan if they want to be but it appears to me there are some people who are more Catalan than others.
We all know that Spain was a dictatorship under General Franco after his forces won the civil war.   One of the strong republican regions was Catalunya who fought until the end when they finally had to admit defeat. They then lived under a dictator who hated their region and mistreated their people, punishing them for having fought against him and generally trying to subjugate and humiliate them in all the ways that dictators enjoy doing, including banning the language and outlawing other Catalan activities. 
 
When Franco died in 1975 there began the period of transition to democracy – this is a very complicated part of the history which I am not going to try and explain but let’s assume that although it was good that democracy was chosen as the way ahead, unfortunately the powerful people at the time were still rather close to the old dictatorship. It was decided that there would be an amnesty and no-one from the regime was to be held responsible for crimes committed under the dictatorship and in fact those who had been part of it could even carry on with powerful positions.
Catalunya was one of the new autonomous communities and a legal Statute of Autonomy was drawn up to define what this meant. This is something that is important to remember because this Statute was not seen as fair at the time and when later it was amended it was an important step for Catalunya being seen as a nation.  In 2010 the central government in Madrid (which has wielded power over the whole country rather than sharing it democratically with all the autonomous communities), went to court (also run by their cronies) and radically changed the Statute leaving Catalunya weaker and humiliated yet again.
 
This brings us, more or less,  to recent years. The centralism of the Madrid government means that people in Catalunya feel increasingly angry about various unjust things. Remember that Catalunya was republican and has a strong history of democracy and that the central government is rather the opposite – the current ruling party, the PP,  has uncomfortably close ties with the old dictatorship.  People in Catalunya want a more just society and to protect their language and culture. They are subject to a thousand little daily humiliations, for example the courts of law require you to speak Spanish and it is almost a contempt of court if you try to communicate in Catalan. Watch the film Fenix 11.23 if you can!
The more that Catalan people called for change, the more intransigent became Madrid.  Also bear in mind that Catalunya is a wealthy region that pays a lot of taxes to the central government which are used elsewhere, even for building white elephant projects like motorways in parts of Spain with hardly any traffic or airports that are never used. Imagine paying through the nose and being insulted rather than thanked.  The Catalans are often accused of being difficult trouble makers.
 
We now have the scenario of an unstoppable force coming into contact with an immovable object. The Catalan president tried to negotiate with the Spanish Prime Minister about such things as the unfair taxation system and was send back home after being told there would be no discussion. 
People who had waited patiently for years hoping for change began to feel there was no hope within the present setup. There were further attacks from Madrid on the education system which in Catalunya uses Catalan as the main language. The fact is that children here – all of them – emerge from school speaking at least two languages, Catalan and Spanish. Children in Spain may or may not speak a second language but in general only speak one – Spanish. In Galicia they also speak Gallego and in Basque country, Euskera and these minority languages are also under attack.
 
The decision to have a referendum on independence was taken and the date chosen was November 9th. While they would have liked a binding vote such as the one in Scotland, this was quickly prohibited by Madrid and after weeks of threats and blustering, finally the courts (remember the cronies there) said it was illegal. If it went ahead the Catalan president could be arrested.  One  Spanish minister called for the army to be called in if there was trouble. 
This referendum was cancelled but another vote is planned for the same day, now to be called a ‘consultation’.   It has even less weight than the first one and will be run by volunteers and not Catalan government officials but still Madrid fears it so they went back to the courts asking for it to be deemed illegal.  
 
Now it is Wednesday and the television news is full of politicians talking about the vote.  Many houses on the streets have Catalan flags hanging from the balconies, there are buildings and trees wrapped in yellow to show support for the right to vote and posters all around town saying ‘to vote is normal’ ‘let the Catalans vote’.  
In Barcelona people tonight came out onto their balconies to do a ‘Cassolada’ which means banging pots and pans as a people’s protest to reclaim the right to vote.
The President of the Catalan government is saying the vote will go ahead even if it means he is arrested. It is now more a question of whether or not people are allowed to express their opinion. 
How can a country pretend to be democratic when there is such pressure to ‘put up and shut up’?   
It is easy to look at a large demonstration such as the one in Barcelona on September 11th and think ‘oh it is just another group of crazy nationalists’ but when you are there, you see they are normal people, families, old people, babies and dogs. They are not calling for independence because they believe Catalans are better than anyone else.  They are just totally fed up with being manipulated and subjugated and want to organise and run their own country along different lines from what seems possible in modern Spain. Catalan people have a long history of democracy and tolerance and they want to live with these values again.
I am uncomfortable with nationalism generally and with flag waving and the like but it can’t just be dismissed as a strange Catalan fever for independence. People who would normally be happy to just live quiet lives are coming out to call for the chance to vote, to be heard and to be treated with respect. Whatever your opinion on independence, you should be allowed to vote.
There is a deep and strongly held feeling that come what may, people should be allowed to vote on Sunday. How can it be otherwise?   This vote is only an expression of opinion but when the central government find it so frightening that it has to ban it completely and threaten even to bring in the army….. can Spain still  be described as a democracy or is its hidden and dirty past beginning to show through, like a stain that cannot be covered up any longer?
 
The longer I live here the more I see how the society is affected by what happened after the war, and perhaps even more importantly after Franco died. If there was no healing, no attempts to tell the truth, no official acknowledgement of wrongs done, no apologies, no opportunities for victims to be heard,  no strong policies to prevent ex-fascists from taking power again, no reconciliation with regions such as Catalunya, little creative inspiration towards making a new and more just society;  if all that is true, no wonder that there is such a lack of trust and a continued need to stand up to a government that feels like an oppressor. And I haven’t even mentioned the endemic corruption of most of the political classes in Spain and even in Catalunya. 
 
These are interesting times, and a bit depressing and even rather scary I have to admit. 
 
But at least I have managed to write down a little of what goes in for me while watching the process unfold. I told you it was complicated and it would be long!  Let’s see what happens on Sunday.
 

Bonnie’s Story – Part Four – The High Road to Scotland with a Border Collie








At the end of the last post I was describing how well Bonnie took to her new diet. It was slightly harder for me, a longterm vegetarian.  Butchers shops are not comfortable places for me and ordering things in Catalan was difficult.  I felt I had to pretend the meat was for us humans, especially if I was ordering steak. Buying lots of human grade meat for your dog is not a common practice in Catalunya, maybe not anywhere.
But I did get borrowed kudos when I started enthusiastically asking for less popular animal parts.  Livers, kidneys, hearts….heads and necks….I even spent a few weeks searching for raw tripe only to find the EU has banned its sale.

Did you know that dogs like raw fish – whole and straight from the freezer?  Mackeral was popular.

Finding and storing fresh raw meat is harder when you are on the move. In July we set off yet again in the camper van, this time with our noses pointing north to explore the Highlands of Scotland.  Bonnie was in the best of health and so I took a flexible approach to her diet – dried food here, sausage and chips there, a chicken wing, half a rabbit.

The weather was very hot right from day one and as we drove north we looked for cooler days but it seemed never to happen and the sunshine followed us all the way to Inverness and beyond. We were so lucky to always find inviting waters

Rivers in France rarely disappoint

 Punting in Cambridge. Bonnie was the Queen of the Cam – tourists took photos of her

We passed through London and I showed Bonnie my old home in Stoke Newington. We were going to sleep in the van but our neighbours were still in the same house and invited us to stay overnight. Next morning we walked through the Victorian cemetary that stretches along the back

 My Catalan partner finds this interest in old graveyards totally incomprehensible but I like them and loved the view from the back window of my house

 It was like living beside a nature reserve and in Spring the dawn chorus was amazing

 I have a story to tell about this sculpture but will save it for another time

Visiting Family

We met family all along the route – without planning it we visited almost everyone, even those who are no longer with us.  One niece lives near Folkstone where we landed. Then in London we went to my brothers old home, still full of memories both happy and sad after his death the year before. Then to my sister in Cambridge. Up to the borders and another niece and nephew and grand-nephew.  After that we headed north with the sun still blazing and met another of my sisters in Newtonmore in the Cairngorms.  Close by is the river where my fathers ashes were scattered and as we were also visiting many of his hydroelectric dams we felt that we were really on a family odessey
We were heading for Inverness where I was born but first we took a right turn to Findhorn Bay. It was still incredibly hot and we stopped for some more river swimming before we reached the coast

I was born on the east coast of Scotland but we moved to the west when I was 6.  I hadn’t realised it before but my deepest sense of home is in this north eastern corner. So good to take Bonnie there.
The light feels just the right sort of light and the beaches seem like proper beaches

 We stayed at the long established New Age Centre and Ecological Community, Findhorn, famous at one time for its huge vegetables grown in sand and apparently aided by nature spirits

Of course we visited the house where I was born in Inverness and also went to see the Dolphins that live in the Moray Firth. Every day there are groups of visitors and professional photographers waiting at the point for the tide to come in bringing fish, and dolphins close behind.

All the coast line is magical. 

This is Rosemarkie where I first learned to walk.
My mothers ashes were scattered here so the place is thick with memories and feelings

For the first five years of my life we spent the summers in Rosemarkie. 
The Fairy Glen is just as mysterious 50 years on

One day we met a look-alike puppy even more foxy than ours

We headed west through spectacular mountain scenery. Every day was better than the last
Some fellow campers at Fortrose had recommended the free camping at Shieldaig

Heaven on earth – apart from the midges which finally began to attack us at nightfall
Now we were driving southward and stopped to camp on the Silver Sands near Arisaig

Here began the part of the journey requiring Ferries – Caledonian MacBrayne took us from Skye to Mallaig, Mallaig to Rhum, Ardnamurchan to Tobermory on Mull

And finally from Mull to Oban.

Bonnie is used to boats after all her trips to the Scillies and was a natural island hopper

 On Mull we camped wild, spending some nights alone in the car park above spectacular Calgary Bay

There is a nature reserve with sculptures nearby –  Calgary Art in Nature.
Bonnie with recycled sandpipers

 We stayed with my other sister in Port Appin and then slowly made our way out of the mountains down to Glasgow, stopping off to visit the spirits of our aunts  in Tighnabruich.

Clutch Foot

In Glasgow we parked the van and finally had a rest from driving. Too late I realised that over 4000km of driving is hard on the legs and I developed tendinitis in my clutch foot which took more than three months to resolve. We visited my niece who lives in a flat overlooking the River Clyde and I felt amazed that this journey had so cleverly wound its way around all the family as well as many of the special places of my childhood.

In early August we arrived in Cornwall – in spite of my ankle we managed to climb Carn Galver

After a month in our lovely cabaña we set off again for Folkstone and the journey through France. My ankle problem meant abandonning the camper van in Cornwall and we bought a little Spanish car in the UK which carried us home.
No more camping so we stayed in hotels.
One rainy night we went dripping into a family hotel in who-knows-where mid France.
They welcomed us and Bonnie with smiles and I had one of the best meals in my life.
Trout with almond sauce.

 We took a new route south and passed over the Millau Viaduct

When I was passenger  I could have Bonnie with me.

We got home in time for the big Independence demonstration on September 11th.
They took my name! – Via Catalana or The Catalan Way!

 I really expect the next episode with be the final one but please don’t avoid it thinking it will be too sad.  I leave you today in the late sunshine of that September on the coast road near Sant Pol. There were many more lovely adventures to come.  I hope you will accompany us to the gentle peaceful and beautiful end of the story.  Till tomorrow my friends




Bonnie’s Story – Part Three – The Love of a Collie

The summer of 2012 was supposed to be our summer of rest and recuperation. After we left Duna in her new Norfolk paradise we travelled slowly down to Cornwall in the camper van, enjoying peace at last.  Bonnie loved camping and it was great to take her to some favourite places like Waylands Smithy the Neolithic Burial Chamber on the ancient Ridgeway. It is a very powerful place.

We parked overnight on the Ridgeway which is one of the oldest highways across England and were kept awake by a strange clicking that couldn’t be turned off in the dashboard.  Every time it stopped and I returned to bed, it started up again. Eventually I decided we must be parked in the middle of the ley line so decided to move the van. Only a few metres back and the sound stopped

We arrived in Cornwall early August and only a few days later received the terrible news of my brothers death in London. Once again we left Bonnie with our friends and returned to London in the van.  A few weeks later we went back yet again for the funeral and by the time we were able to finally settle down in Cornwall, the summer break was almost over. Bonnie and I stayed on for another month and my partner had to fly back to Catalunya.
Can you see her?

This period of being just Bonnie and me in our country cabaña was very peaceful.  I wanted rest and time to grieve and she was happy to just play all day in the field with her friends. We took long walks together and she was the perfect kind companion as I tried to make sense of a senseless death and to somehow come to terms with the loss of a sibling. 
One sunny day we spent hours on the rocks at Perranuthnoe

In the autumn we made the journey down through France this time accompanied by my friend Val. We found wonderful campsites by rivers and on the last night in the Cathar area of south west France we stayed in a hotel that not only allowed dogs in the bedrooms but in the restaurant. Lovely France!

Back in Catalunya we had many more wonderful trips.
We returned again and again to Sant Nicolau where we felt so much at home.
Here we are in St Pere de Pescador

We took the train from Granollers to La Molina. It is a ski resort and quite deserted when there is no snow.  A sagging dolmen reminded us of Cornwall

We went walking in the hills between the Valle Oriental and the Mediteranean, often with our friends Oreneta and Chuck. Don’t they make a lovely couple?

We went to collect water from the natural spring at Santa Fe in Montseny

At Sant Hilari Sacalm – the town with many spring water fountains – Bonnie at last learned how to drink from the fountain but she always preferred the hand method

Here she is at the Font del Ferro – the water is full of iron – you can see how much she adored her new friend. He doesn’t like his picture used here too often but it would be an empty story if he wasn’t included.  After the initial moments of barking at him when they first met, she gave her heart to him completely. She loved me of course but she always went first to Pep when we came home together.
It was a doggy thing!  I didn’t care – I just wanted her to be happy and safe

I took her several times to Barcelona – always feeling very excited to be there with her. She was very good on the train and the only time it felt difficult was when we sat outside a cafe on Enric Grenados in Eixample. I hadn’t realised they use that pedestrian street for skateboarding – her pet hate.
Here she is with Barcelona down below when we went to stay overnight in Nou Barris

In April 2013 we drove to the borders of Catalunya to explore the Ports de Beseit where there are amazing rock formations

 and deep gullies of crystal clear water
 
We were camping again of course – you can’t have a better holiday from a dogs point of view.
When we were in Granollers most of her walks were in one of the two parks nearby. This is the walkway of Park Ponent. I used to worry she missed the Cornish countryside but I think she was happy anywhere and everywhere so long as I was there and it was quiet and had interesting smells.


And in the Park Nou (new park) she sometimes met friends. She had begun to get over her fear of dogs and was her old friendy self. This is Aslan – a very popular male collie sharing a ball with her

We went back and forth to Sant Nicolau, spending time with Blue

engaging in cat staring competitions

and we celebrated my birthday there with my friends Janet and Bev.
I love this photo

In April 2013 I felt relaxed enough to leave Bonnie in Granollers so I could go to a family wedding in Scotland. After so many separations it never felt easy to leave her but it is also so good to come home to a dog meeting you at the station ( and a man of course!)

A few days later she suddenly seemed strange and I went to the vet feeling like an over anxious owner but as we walked there, she deteriorated and I had to carry her the last few metres. They took blood tests and discovered Erlichiosis, a tick borne disease which is not found in the UK but is quite common here. Sheep carry these ticks and if you are unlucky – the ticks carry the disease

We were so lucky to have the 24 hour Veterinary Hospital Lauro close by. They kept Bonnie in overnight and treated her with fluids and antibiotics and she quickly responded. It had been serious as her platelets were dangerously low and she was very anaemic which is why she couldn’t walk all the way to the vet. There is a sunny bench outside the vets where you can have visiting hours

After this scare I changed her diet to a natural raw one – giving her totally raw meaty bones like chicken legs, quartered rabbits, beef chunks, liver and kidneys, even a whole chicken once, head included. She began to thrive and I had never seen her look so young and so healthy and fit.


Well as you see the story is still not finished – it is like the Arabian Nights as I don’t want it to end!  How did I ever imagine it would be in two parts?  Well, I will continue tomorrow for those of you who are still with me. It is such a pleasure for me to see how full her life was.
Highlights to come include the amazing journey to Scotland in the camper van in one of the hottest summers the UK has known. See you soon


Independence?

Just watching the news as they announce a date for the referendum on independence in Catalunya.
It will be on November 9th 2014.
The questions, and there are to be two, are ‘Do you want Catalunya to be a State?’  and if you answered Yes, ‘Do you want this State to be independent?’

The news shifts to Madrid and the Spanish Prime Minister Rajoy. His reaction is to say that it is illegal and won’t be allowed to happen. He doesn’t specify how it will be stopped.

Another shift to the leader of the Catalan branch of the PP (the right wing party of Spanish government) Alicia Sanchez Camacho.   She is saying that to have such a referendum would be undemocratic.  Sending in the army of course would be!

It looks like 2014 will be an interesting year.

http://www.aljazeera.com/news/europe/2013/12/spain-rejects-catalonia-referendum-bid-20131212161025718238.html

September 11th Catalunya

September 11th has many associations for people all around the world but here in Catalunya it is the National Day also known as The Diada. It commemorates a defeat in battle but has been given a new positive slant by the annual celebrations all around the region.

Like many people outside the country I had never heard about any of this before coming here but perhaps after last years huge demonstration in Barcelona where over one and a half million people marched in support of Independence, there may be a wider interest in what happens tomorrow.

My first year here was in 2009 and I spent September 11th up in the Pyranees. I had no idea then why there was a group of people carrying a flag up to the top of Costabonne, showing my ignorance at the time but isn’t it wonderful how much you can learn and change in 4 years?

Looking at these photos reminds me of those lovely days walking in the mountains when my main concerns were about relaxing into my newly budding relationship, trying to understand the Catalan conversations of my three friends, and wondering if my legs and lungs would make it across the mountains to the refuge where we slept for three nights.

It’s very beautiful up there and I want to go back.