Skiing at Christmas

December 26, 2014December 27, 2014 ~ Kate Wilson ~ 1 Comment

We have come away for Christmas!

It was no easy task but we were helped by the fact that the Resident Adolescent is working in Carrefour and only has two days free.

I have written before about my struggles with Catalan Christmas and the family rituals that are expected here so I won’t go into it again but I do need to say that when I write ‘we have come away for christmas’ it is written with a flourish.

By the way, I am coming to a far greater understanding of how incredibly difficult it is to create Christmas rituals with a new partner from a different culture. We have tried to include everything from both our worlds – beating the Tió, Christmas carols, Christmas tree, Christmas stockings, roast veggie dinner, Escudella i carn d’olla, Sant Esteve, Boxing Day, turrons, Christmas pudding, Christmas cards, and so on.

The result? Often it is just exhausting, frustrating and perplexing.

We came away early on Christmas morning and I hadn’t realised the important of opening presents on Christmas Eve so had gone to bed. I wanted to bring the presents with us but my partner didn’t realise the important of opening them on Christmas Day so said we should leave them at home to open when we get back. Just one of many misunderstandings.

But coming away helps a lot. We are in a new place with no expectations or obligations. We came to the Pyranees to a place called Font Romeu which is officially in France but if you ask any Catalan they will say it is in Catalunya Nord. We are staying in a small hotel called Hotel Le Romarin. It is simple, family run, friendly and comfortable. Clean with no frills. Lovely views. Good wifi in the lounge area.

Yesterday was Christmas Day and it was surprising how many other people had the same idea to get away and go skiing.

I don’t know how to ski – I have tried twice and enjoyed it but after an hour had enough of falling over and struggling to get up. As it was Christmas I went along yesterday to the ski station up high and I spent a few hours sitting in the warm cafeteria watching other people glide gracefully down the slopes. Ski resorts are funny places, not at all what I imagined in my dreams. A bit like camp sites they have a tendency to attract clutter and signs telling you what not to do. It must be wonderful to take the lift up to the top and be in the white clean snow-scene then to zig-zag competently downhill. But the lower part is where the snow is dirty, children are screaming and plastic cups and crisp packets line the edges of the forest.

Today I stayed in the village and had my Boxing Day walk up to visit the Hermitage of Font Romeu. It turns out to be on yet another of the ways that lead to Santiago de Compostella.

Romeu means pilgrim in Catalan so Font Romeu is the fountain of the pilgrim. They found a 12th Century statue carved in wood of the Black Virgin near here which is kept in the Hermitage until September 8th when it is carried in a parade down to the church at Odeillo. If I want to see it then I must go there.

Black virgins are an important feature of Catalan spiritual life. One of the most famous is the Black Virgin of Montserrat. Of course there are many stories of the black virgin being the mother goddess from a much earlier pre christian age. Here is an interesting site about the Black Madonna.

I have started my training for doing the Camino de Santiago in the spring but I need to get a bit more serious about it. Today’s walk was just over 6km and at that rate I’ll need a year to complete the pilgrimage.

Light at the end of the Tunnel

December 17, 2014 ~ Kate Wilson ~ 2 Comments

Last week I had a bad cold and stayed in bed for a few days.

Then on Saturday night I couldn’t resist going to Barcelona as planned, to see my friend Cristina and to watch the show Fira at the Ateneu de Nou Barris.

I wrapped up warm and we went in the car. It was my first trip out since getting sick.

The show was good. Not brilliant but fine. I have seen more circus performances and clowns and acrobats since I have lived here than ever before in my whole life put together. One of the women acrobats was quite amazing – her balance was perfect and her centre so strong she seemed to fly through the air, defying gravity. I allowed myself a very brief fantasy that I could have done this if I had kept up with gymnastics and ballet when I was young. The theatre was hot and I was sweaty and thirsty so when the performance finished so we stayed on for drinks in the large bar There were lots of people. It was great to be back in Barcelona surrounded by a bit of night life. The Ateneu of Nou Barris is quite a trendy place and we even saw David Fernandez, the member for Parliament for CUP (Candidatura d’Unitat Popular) a left wing independent party.

There were two DJs playing music and when they started putting on tracks from the 1960’s I suddenly had a huge burst of energy and started not only dancing but singing the songs. It is amazing how one day you can be too ill to go downstairs to make a cup of tea and then 24 hours later a blast of energy from ‘who knows where’ courses through your body, almost lifting you off the ground with its power.

That in itself is amazing but for me what was wonderful was that I seemed to have sweated out or expelled along with the virus, my usual shyness and self consciousness.

I felt fine and I danced and sang without feeling silly at all. Something has shifted. A good feeling.

So with this new healthier energy what am I doing?

The house has been decorated for Christmas. This is the first time I have done this here and it has made a big difference to how I feel at home. I love the lights of the Christmas tree and race downstairs every morning to switch them on. We needed light and here it is!

I have booked a Spanish lesson on the website Italki for Thursday afternoon. I want to improve my Spanish as well as Catalan so this is my first step in doing this.

I am going to do a blogging course in January. After five years of doing it alone I want to get help.

And lastly a little story of supermarkets in Catalunya.

I went to Lidls today in search of mince pies (there were none) and faced my usual frustration at the cash desk. It is not the custom here to help you pack your bags or even to wait until you have done it. All my shopping was piling up quickly, waiting to be packed but the cashier wanted me to pay straight away. I know what would happen next – she would serve the other people in the queue and I would end up flustered and stressed trying to grab my things while they were trying to do the same.

So I said “No. I need to pack first then pay”

She said ” No. First you pay and then you can pack”

We were both smiling and it was friendly but we both spoke firmly.

I said “No. First we can pack my bags – it will be quicker if you help me – and then I will pay”

And then she just started to pack my bags. There was no problem. No stress of an argument. She wasn’t in a bad mood with me or even irritated. I wondered at my own determination but also noticed that I had spoken firmly but without judgement or annoyance. She could have said no and I would have left it there.

She thanked me at the end and I thanked her.

That is just one tiny fragment of my day but it seems that recently this sort of thing is happening more and more. I think perhaps I am speaking out more freely, and saying more honestly what I think and feel. I always wanted to do that but until now it took an enormous effort to get past the old blocks. That’s why I say, something has shifted and I think it might just be that some of those blocks have been moved out of the way. When I don’t have to push past blocks I can say things so much more kindly and gently.

And if I have finally learned how to do that – then maybe there is hope for us all!

Another Catalan Christmas – heigh ho!

December 15, 2014February 10, 2015 ~ Kate Wilson ~ 5 Comments

Well I felt so much better after writing that last post that today I was singing in the rain as I walked into town for breakfast with Tiffany. (Just had to say that, not breakfast at Tiffany’s but it’s close)

Granollers is lovely in the rain. Everyone has umbrellas except the Moroccan woman I saw in the Porxada who must have forgotten hers so had improvised with a plastic bag on her head over her veil. (This isn’t her by the way, I wasn’t quick enough to grab a photo!)

Look back over Christmas past posts if you want to see how I have celebrated here in the last five years. But to save you the trouble I will tell you that each and every year I have struggled to feel Chistmassey.

There are celebrations and there are lots of lovely Catalan Christmas traditions – the Christmas markets especially Santa Lucia in Barcelona, turrons, cava, beating the Tió, more turrons, Catalan Christmas carols like El Noi de La Mare.

But I miss feeling part of the Christmas feeling in Cornwall. Everyone getting excited about buying their Christmas tree, the Mousehole lights, carols in pubs, mince pies, mulled wine, log fires, Boxing Day…..oh how I long for Boxing Day! Here we have Sant Esteve and it is not especially relaxing.

Since coming here I have not decorated the house. Not even once! I had the feeling it wasn’t really important to people here and anyway, what’s the point if you are going to go out for dinner on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?

But today a good friend said “Just do it!” “Do it for you if no-one else wants it”

So I did.

And it was amazing how quickly I felt excited and happy. I got a glass of Vermut and put on some Christmas music. Brought out the box of goodies and raided the wonderful ribbon shelves out the back of the house.

I bought some things in the new shop Tiger

The room’s not finished yet but here we go

I am looking forward to a lovely Christmas now. We are having our usual anglo-saxon Christmas party on December 23rd with Tiffany and her family. I brought over crackers and mince pies and Xmas pudding from Cornwall and as we are all vegetarian we are going to have mushroom and cashew nut roast with loads of roast vegetables and oven baked brussel sprouts.

Then we have the Tió party on December 24th with presents and cava and turrons.

And on Christmas Day the three of us are off skiing! Me, Mr Catalan man and the Resident Adolescent!

The Day I Fell into the River

December 14, 2014February 11, 2015 ~ Kate Wilson ~ 9 Comments

A long time ago I went punting in Cambridge with some friends and a dog.

We took a picnic and decided to moor up when we reached a quiet spot on the river. I was the most experienced punter and guided us with ease through crowds of tourists being punted expertly by young students or whirling in giggling circles as their punt poles got stuck in the mud.

We saw a lovely place under a weeping willow and,handing the punting pole over to one of my friends, I grabbed the metal spike that would secure us to the bank and then did something really stupid.

I stepped onto the grassy bank with one foot while the other still stood on the punt. You can imagine what happened next.

You are supposed to jump!

I was thinking this morning that my situation here in Catalunya has some similarities with that thoughtless action. Everything has been going so well, I was confident and steering my course happily through life until, suddenly and without warning my survival instinct deserted me and I tried to stand in two places at once, not realising that moving from one home to another requires that you make a leap of faith.

And here I am now, not at home in either place. I let go of all that was familiar and supportive in Cornwall and yet kept a firm grasp on my home there. I still have that house even though someone else rents it. My mind is partly there at all times, worrying about damp and storms, hoping the grass is cut and the roof is in place. We go every summer and work hard doing what we can in a few short months only to leave it again and travel south.

Today here I am in Catalunya. I have a home here but it was never my own as I moved into my partner’s house when we began our relationship. It has been in his family for generations. How could it ever be mine? Really I am like a long term lodger. I worry endlessly about how to create a home here in Catalunya but am daunted by the idea of another place to take care of.

How much energy do I want to spend on maintaining houses?

Two of everything but not a home to call my own

Work, friendships, cars, home – I have two sets of each. Endless keys, two mobile phones, two purses with different money and credit cards for each country. Two doctors, two hairdressers, two beauticians for god’s sake! My family are all in the UK but I have friends in both places. In Britain I feel confident and strong – I know where to find an electrician, I go to the doctor and it is easy to explain all my vague mid-life symptoms. In Catalunya my daily life is great and I enjoy it. But there is the constant sensation that my feet are not on the ground.

Isn’t it a lovely dream? New lover, a chance to learn two languages in another culture, Mediterranean food, sunshine, exciting places to explore. Yes, it is a lovely dream

On the other side it has been a constant challenge. When I look back to my first years here I see how many ‘new’ things I tried to assimilate in one big bite.

New relationship
Living with a man for the first time in ages
New family – being step mother to an adolescent was never on my fantasy list
Two new languages
New culture

Writing it like this makes it seem like a small thing. I hear you say ‘hey, I could do that if I had the chance‘

But the reality for me was that it totally overwhelmed me. I have had to lean hard on all my support systems. I have never before used so much Skype, email, telephone. This blog is part of my survival package. Everything seemed so hard and yet I couldn’t decide if it was normal, or my fault, or that I was just in the wrong place. And also I was happy so how could it be wrong?

It’s the indecision that creates the wobble

I stayed and tried harder, looking for every way possible to make myself a more flexible and accepting and patient person. In the end I can see how much I have changed and matured in this process. I do feel stronger and brighter and happier and wiser.

But still I find myself hovering in this strange contorted position with one foot on the bank and the other on a moving object. I have certainly learned how to balance but it is not an easy place to be.

I have been here for five years now. Isn’t it time that both my feet were together in one place.

There is a strange time warp just before you fall

Imagine that moment in the punt – that long moment when I realised I was in two places but fully committed to neither and that as the boat started to move away from the bank there was only one way to go. It was a very long moment, one that seemed eternal as my mind took in the inevitable consequence that was about to take place. Arms flailing, throat letting out a visceral AHHHHHH, on that day I fell in slow motion into the river.

And then surfaced again, laughing and laughing.

If it is time to fall then I am ready. My legs can’t hold out much longer!

Why do I write this here?

I am interested in the process of change in people’s lives and how they survive the stress and what they bring out of the experience. I want to be as honest as possible about what has happened to me after moving to Catalunya. In many ways I feel I have failed to thrive as I wanted to. And yet I have gained things I never imagined were possible. It has been much harder than I expected, much more challenging and I have felt insecure and anxious much of the time. Yet also much happier than I ever thought possible. Strange isn’t it?

If my experience is normal then I want to write about it in case someone else finds it reassuring. And if in the end it is ‘just me’ then why hide it?

I made a list this morning of all the people I know who are incomers, foreigners, immigrants. It was interesting to see that many of them arrived with an pre-existing partner or family. They brought their own community. Most of them created a new home from scratch whether owned or rented. Others who came alone often had a specific job to do or arrived with no intention of making this country a permanent home.

I only know one other person who moved country, changed language, started a new relationship, entered a step family situation and also lives in someone else’s home. I know we have a lot of struggles in common.

My advice to anyone would be – if possible migrate in families or at least in pairs. Prioritise your actual home and make sure it is at least half your own. In this way you have solid ground under your feet and a safe place to gather strength when the inevitable challenges arise.

The migration of birds helps me understand my life

December 3, 2014 ~ Kate Wilson ~ 5 Comments

I promised myself I would write here today and although it is late at night I want to keep to that promise.

Now that I have this brand new beautiful blog I feel shy about writing unless it is worthwhile, interesting, wonderful and perfect.

Impossible expectations of myself only freeze my creativity.

So here I am writing just an ordinary post, hoping at least to capture something of the moment that I am living through right now.

I am back in Cornwall yet again.

I arrived about three weeks ago and tomorrow night I leave Penzance on the sleeper train to London. On Saturday I will fly to Barcelona and then travel on by train to Granollers.

It is the first time in years that I have been back in Cornwall in November and I have loved it. The weather has been pretty good and I’ve been able to walk along the deserted coast path and on the empty beaches. The winter birds have arrived and the summer tourists have gone.

The roads are quiet and the streets of Penzance have been returned to the locals.

But I found myself aware that I am no longer a local. I am not a tourist but am definitely a visitor. Some people in my village of Lamorna didn’t recognise me. Others are surprised to see me at this time of year and every day someone is asking, ” How long are you here this time?” and “When do you go off again?” It is perfectly natural for people to want to know these things. There is something disturbing about someone who comes and goes, someone who used to live here and be part of the fabric of life but who suddenly upped and went off to live in Spain. I hear an element of accusation in the questions, a hint of annoyance as if I decided to go because Cornwall wasn’t good enough for me.

Being a migrant means I am expected at certain times of the year and am seen as a strange occurance at others. As if I have flown off course.

This makes me sad and makes me long to settle down and stay again, to be a year round resident.

And yet…..

I feel the call of the south. I want to go where the sun shines with more warmth. There is something – and someone who is calling me. And in the spring I will start to dream of Cornish cliffs and of my country cabin.

I don’t like feeling like a transient visitor when I come to Cornwall but somehow this is now my reality.

I have always felt drawn to birds and known a link between their lives and mine.

It helps me understand my life now when I think about migration

“Migration – the regular movement of birds and other creatures from one part of the world to another and back again – is one of the wonders of the natural world”

“Migration is a form of adaptation. Birds migrate to survive’

I regularly move from Catalunya to Cornwall and back again. It is certainly something that creates wonder in my world. This life has forced me to learn to adapt and to be flexible.

But why do I do it even when it creates stress and anxiety in my life?

I started my own annual migration in order to survive. I really think that is true. It is something healthy for me even though it also has been difficult and sometimes painful.

It is so easy to feel that I ‘should’ settle down in one place and make up my mind where I want to be. And yet if I connect to my bird nature then it is natural to move between two places, meeting the needs of the different seasons and risking the journeys between them in order to have two nests where I feel at home.

Here is my companion Grace who went with me today to Marazion, to walk the beach, watch the starlings and to think deep thoughts.

The Catalan Way

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