Locum's locum

I had a quiet 'do nothing' day after yesterday's excursion to El Prat (BCN). Just some essential shopping to do, a lot of Olympic TV, and compiling a hymn list for the rest of my stay. After the cycling triumphs it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't had a bike ride since Clare and my in-laws arrived. My plan to take Clare out bike riding foundered once she sprained her ankle. Ah well, never mind - she's well on the mend now. and getting ready back at home to participate in the National Eisteddfod poetry recitation competition for Welsh learners. Anyway, I got the bike out, adjusted the saddle with an adjustable wrench brother in law Eddie found when he was investigating tools in the garage, and cycled a couple of miles with great pleasure in the afternoon sun. A more taxing ride tomorrow maybe?

Early yesterday my friend and colleague Fr Hywel Davies confirmed that all is on track for his visit here next week. He's coming to have a taster of chaplaincy life in Spain, to satisfy his curiosity, and covering services for me while I go back to Wales for the weekend, to fulfil a commitment from before I knew I was coming here, to do holiday locum duty in the Parish of Merthyr Vale with Aberfan, in the Taff Vale, not far from my birthplace in Ystrad Mynach. It's 25 years since I last preached in the churches of that Parish on behalf of USPG. I knew at some stage I'd need a home visit to regulate my affairs, so rather than ditch this commitment I retained it. Valleys parishes are challenging places, and it's a privilege to support clergy who make their homes and work there.

My only worry about this visit is how easily I will adjust to driving on the left again, after seven weeks of driving on the right. This time around I took to the change with ease, and have been driving here in Spain far more confidently than on previous occasions. Perhaps I'm simply more relaxed and better able to make such adjustments these days - thanks to retirement.

   

 

Cava land diversion

We were out of the house and on the N340 going north the Barcelona's El Prat airport for Clare's return by eight o'clock this morning - quite an achievement, but well worth the effort. Throughout the journey the air was crisp and clear and the mountains were vibrant with colour from the early morning sun. How I would have loved to stop and take photos! We made good time and by 10h20 we were hunting for section C of terminal 2, where the EasyJet fights come and go - not as well signed as it should be, when it stands an extra quarter of a mile from the main departure terminal.. Two hours early - that makes a change. We had a coffee together, then made our fond goodbyes - today is our 46th wedding anniversary, celebrations interfered with by travel schedule, unfortunately.

I set out for Vinaròs at 11h40, blinked at the C-32 junction and unwittingly drove past my turning to the motorway along the coast. The highway took me west and south of Barcelona, up the Llobregat river valley, but still with promises of a turning towards Tarragona. Ten minutes later, I picked up signs for the N340 south, and followed them, not knowing what the outcome would be. We'd been warned against following the N340 all the way, massive delays, an extra hour's journey time, but back tracking was out of the question. The road began to wind up into the mountains up a narrow valley, through towns without a bypass and long slow traffic processions. 

The road climbed higher over a 495 metre col. The road was so busy and had no lay-bys, so stopping and reading the map was out of the question. I just had to trust and keep going - quite a familiar life stance really. Over the top of the col, suddenly I was in a different world of wide open rolling plains covered with vineyards. There was little that blatantly promoted the region I was driving through, but I worked out that this was Penedès, and recalled that I had bought the odd bottle or two of red at Lidl's in the UK. Only later did the penny drop. This is the homeland of Cava production, and only last night did Clare and I drink an excellent bottle of the pink brut Cava, a farewell thankyou present from sister in law Ann. This is one of Catalunya's premier products. But the region doesn't exactly rub your face in the fact of its great assets as happens in the Champagne region of northern France.

Despite the heavy traffic, and the extra hour's road endurance, I was glad to have made this unexpected journey. Penedès is worth a longer visit in its own right - not just its bodegas, but also its towns and villages. One that caught my attention at a junction on the road was L'Arboç. The thousand year old village is set on a hill. Its somewhat austere church is a 17th century rebuild of a much older romanesque building, visible above the houses. Close to it, however, towers a grand, ornate building in the islamic architectural style. It looks like a palace with a mosque attached. It was ancient in style, but oddly seemed to have survived the depredations of time. How come? Was it modern, was it perhaps controversial? Speculation was inevitable.

 La Giralda de L'Arboç, I later discovered is a nineteenth century folly. The house was built as a private dwelling by the wealthy founder of the Teatro Romeo in Barcelona, Joan Roquer i Marí, as a gift for his wife following an inspirational visit to Andalucia, between 1877 and 1889. Its fake minaret, 52 metres high, is a half size replica of the Giralda of Seville, (minaret turned into bell tower). The internal decor  is a copy of the Patio de los Leones in the Alhambra in Granada and the Hall of the Ambassadors of the Alcazar of Seville.  In the past decade it has been restored, explaining why it looks so fresh. It is used now for tourism promotion and as a convention centre. 

It all goes to show that the Brits don't have a monopoly on rich eccentrics with 'Grand Designs'

Shades of the past

We began our last day together, the day before our wedding anniversary, celebrating the Transfiguration, our special feast day (tomorrow) with the congregations, first at Vinaròs and then driving up to L'Ampolla. After the Eucharist there, we joined the congregation at a picnic lunch under the carob trees in the Jardin San Jordi campsite down by the beach closest to L'Ampolla port. It was a most enjoyable opportunity for Clare to meet with people in a different context. 

I was interested to learn from Pru in conversation over lunch that Poblenou del Delta was constructed in 1956 under the Franco regime - a new town to remedy the social problems and devastation caused by the Civil War, as part of agrarian reform. Later I discovered that it was originally named Delta Villafranco, but was changed after a referendum in 2003 to Poblenou - 'our town'.

As ever, Clare went for a swim after lunch, and I found a shady spot to doze for an hour before driving back. The high level of humidity rather than just the heat made today more taxing than usual.

As I was parking the car outside the Parish Church of Sant Joan Bautista before today's service, I noticed a plaque on an external wall which stated that the church had been rebuilt in 1946 through the agency of what I guess to have been a national war damage commission. A third reminder in two days of the 1930's Civil War, in which Catalunya suffered badly.
  

Tortosa city - layers of history

Today we drove to to the ancient city of Tortosa, up the Ebro river valley, about fifteen miles away from the Delta. In mediaeval times the agricultural wealth of this fertile region was controlled from here. It is a cathedral and university city - like Oxford. We concentrated our attention on the mediaeval heart, with a fortress on a promontory overlooking the river, dominating the river plain and conurbation. We parked on the opposite side of the riven and walked across an imposing high road bridge across the river into the old town.
         

We soon discovered the restaurant Paiolet in one of the ramblas of the barrio and treated ourselves to a menu del dia for lunch - our last opportunity before Clare's return home. The meal was as Catalan as the language used to describe it. The setting was superb, just across the road from the river bank, with air conditioning to relieve us from midday heat and humidity outside. Those who served us were friendly  charming and patient with our linguistic puzzling. The cuisine was superb with a bottle of local wine and an apertif glass of gaspachio on the rocks thrown in for good measure, at a reasonable price. 

Then we got some exercise by making the steep half mile climb 180 feet up to the fortress to enjoy breathtaking views in every direction of town and countryside. 

There was an iron age settlement up here first. The Romans fortified this high vantage point, but it was when the Moors ruled much of Spain that the present buildings were constructed. Today fortress has been transformed into an attractive Parador hotel welcoming guests from around the world. During hotel redevelopment work a mediaeval islamic cemetery was uncovered on the site. Inscriptions on tablets written in arabic are embedded in the walls, not only up here but also in some walls of the old town below. In 1148 the city fell to Christian conquerers, who found a sophisticated urban environment, after 400 years of muslim rule - a place long active in regional trade thanks to the immense river Ebre.

By the time we'd walked back down to the old town, the Cathedral was open to visitors, with an attractive modern welcome area and gift shop. We paid €3 to get in and were given a map and an explanation of the building's complexities. We could have walked straight in through the entrance in use if we'd simply wanted to attend the Saturday night Mass, but this was a building with so much to see apart from its main 14th century gothic sanctuary. The first part of the tour took us around a large section of the brick built undercroft, used in ancient times for archive storage, rather than for the dead. 

It was plain, mostly uncluttered, not all that interesting if you didn't recall from the introductory talk, that this crypt was a place of refuge during the 1930's Civil War air raids. Dull if you didn't recall that the Cathedral was built on the site of a mosque, demolished after conquest. Maybe these brick arches were a Moorish foundation for a Christian building. But it doesn't stop there. There was Christian basilica on this site during the late Roman Empire. The line of Bishops of Tortosa goes back to the time when the New Testament was still being compiled. Visigoths invaded and controlled the region prior to the Moors. The Christianity of the Visigoths was Arian rather than Orthodox. So many layers of history still hidden. Who knows what was here in pre-Christian times?

The visit then took us up into the sacristy/treasury above ground, with a goodly collection of images, sacred vessels and vestments and wonderful illuminated manuscripts on display, carefully conserved in the right environment. Then, it was on to the Chapter House complete with original furnishings, wooden choir stalls in semi-circular array, then the cloister, before entering the nave of the Cathedral. The priest saying Mass in a large side chapel had just started the Eucharistic prayer, so we stopped and joined in prayer for a while, before quietly walking around the sanctuary ambulatory, and taking our leave. Each great church building of this period is unique, even if the essential gothic layout does make them all look much the same superficially. What makes Tortosa Cathedral special is the story of how to comes to be the way it is, much more than how it looks and functions today.

Village contrasts

We went to the railway station this morning to book seats to travel to Barcelona on Monday, when Clare returns home. To our surprise, the booking office was closed. A notice explained that station staff were on strike over proposals to privatize the network. Trains were still running apparently, and people were waiting for the next arrival. There was nothing we could do, so we went off to Carrefour to do the weekend shopping, and plan a car journey instead. We had no additional detail about the strike, its duration, or frequency of other days when stoppages are planned. With a flight to catch, the risk cannot be entertained.

After shopping, a visit to the beach and a siesta, we went for a drive, following the N232 main road west towards the mountains towards Morello. The road is good and not too busy, winding gently uphill up a river valley, revealing lovely mountain scenery perspectives with endless neatly laid out groves of orange and olive trees in every direction, and the occasional hill village perched above the main road, with buildings which, if not white painted display their pale honey coloured stone fabric, reminiscent of Britain's Bath stone. In each village, above the houses, the outline of the church rises, with interesting tower and baroque parapet giving a distinctive feature to the place.
 

After only ten miles, curiosity compelled us to stop in La Jana, as it was just about to awaken from siesta at half past five. It was cool and still in among the tall buildings in narrow streets. Once more we were struck by the lack of commercial advertising hoardings around the village. It was big enough to have a modest variety of shops and cafes, a bank, a town band, and this huge church, dominating the central square, with two finely crafted sets of burnished bronze doors. They were clearly new, but executed in a simple traditional style with images of Christ and the saints.
 

Opposite in the square was the stylish new-build ajuntamento. When the clock struck six, the fountains between the two resumed playing. We had a good humoured chat in basic Spanish with three old people sitting in chairs on the pavement in the shade outside their house, enjoying the evening hour. We attracted their curiosity as, it was explained to us, they had few tourists there. Indeed, to judge from vehicle traffic we saw, it's a normal agricultural village, still earning its keep from its traditional way of life healthily preserved. Modernity was there, but not allowed to degrade the quality of the public domain - apart from the inescapable multitude of parked cars. I noticed how few traffic control sign posts there were around the place. Did they feel they didn't need them, as they could rely on mutual good will, care and common sense? It reminded me of the world I grew up in, albeit a lot more colourful.

After drink in the main cafe on the square, we started our return trip, and on impulse we left the N232 for a brief look at the hill village of San Jorge or Sant Jordi in Catalonian. Again the restraint on public advertising was noticeble, even if there was more traffic signage, and a car park at the bottom of town. We walked up the main street in search of the main square and church we could see from the N232, and discovered more than we had imagined at this evening hour. The square had been transformed into an arena with viewing platforms above and barred safety cages at ground level for spectators and participants in a bull-baiting fiesta. It was crammed with people, and at one end, the local town band was installed on high, providing live music for the occasion.
 

It's impossible to see any value in cruelty to animals. An event like this gives a few young athletic men an opportunity to flirt with danger and show off in public - proving what? Many greater risks are taken daily by reckless driving, or carelessness at industrial work places, also due to showing off. But making a sport out of being cruel, just doesn't connect with me. The tradition goes back millennia, but when you look at ancient images, these are of - yeah OK - men performing gymnastic feats, vaulting over the beast's horns or hind quarters. All I saw and recorded these young men doing was taunting an animal, arousing its fears and self defence reactions. A huge section of this village community, people of all ages merely watched them with some measure of approval. How will explain how this adds value and dignity to life together?

I walked around the edge of the main square to get to the church square. Each street exit was blocked with safety barriers, as the truck transporting the beasts was parked there, also the ambulance. I'd only just begun to take pictures of this square when hubbub from the arena died to a hush. Within minutes, the ambulance was no longer on stand-by, but taking off with lights flashing. I don't know what happened, who got hurt or how, nor whether the spectacle would continue. For us it was already time to head back home.

The photos I took are posted here
 

Midnight fireworks at Peñíscola

At the Vinaros drop-in centre this morning Les and Brenda reminded us about tonight's fireworks display at Peñíscola, starting at midnight, so we resolved to go, and get plenty of rest during the day. This wasn't so difficult as it was humid as well as hot well into the evening. After supper, thanks to satellite TV, we sat and watched the performance of Bach's B Minor Mass at the Proms, the first time I'd listened to it straight through for many years. By the time we set out by car at 11.15pm it had cooled down enough to make an hour of standing on Peñíscola beach tolerably pleasant. 

The drive in the dark was an interesting challenge, but we found our way through the back streets of Benicarló and along the beach road, and stopped just past the boundary between Benicarló and Peñíscola, where we saw a free parking spot. Mindful of the risk of traffic jams at the end of the show, I turned the car around in the homeward direction before parking it, and crossed my fingers, just in case I'd failed to understand or recognise any parking restrictions. The last thing I wanted was for the car to get towed away at half past midnight!

We settled on a wooden walkway on beach, in the light of the almost full moon. I noticed here and there fishing rods with tiny lights on their tips planted in the sand and groups of people nearby seated at picnic tables attending them. Others had commandeered beach loungers, for hire during the day, for a relaxed view of the spectacle. A small group of young kids, not very well supervised by their parents were letting off firecrackers, just at the place where spectators were slowly making their ways on a beach steeped in darkness. We must have been a couple of miles from the peninsula fortress at Peñíscola, it was hard to tell in the dark, but I did get this shot before the floodlights were turned off.

 

When the fireworks came, my camera, sans tripod, for all its excellence at low light capture and image stabilisation, was simply not up to the task of taking useful firework photos at ten times magnification. Impressionistic at best, but you should see the thirty one other pictures  discarded in disgust.

Fireworks seem to be have been set off from several different points. One beneath the fortress, and at least two other locations along the beach itself. We had a good view from a distance, even if the delayed sound of fireworks exploding made it a little confusing on times.

We left punctually at twenty past twelve, and being so far from the area which would have been crowded with spectators, there were no traffic jams, and we were home by a quarter to one. That's the first time I've driven in the dark since I've been here, so I was feeling pleased with myself to have done so safely and without incident. Especially not a car towed away at midnight.

More Delta del Ebre

We took advantage of a cool cloudy morning start to drive back up into the Delta to visit the Tancada Lake nature reserve which we discovered yesterday but didn't have time to explore properly. We were welcomed by two young staff members at the reception area, and given a briefing by one who spoke good English. The reception area gives a brief introduction to the work of the reserve and a list of the birds most likley to be seen during the day's visit. It also doubles as a gift shop selling a variety of  Deltebre produce - various kinds of rice, wine, salt, honey, herbs and preserves, nicely packaged for tourists.
  

We then started out following a short trail through a series of salt evaporation ponds showing various stages of brine concentration right down to crystallisation.

This led to a hut with more elaborate introduction to the Delta's conservation projects. It doubles up as an observation hide, overlooking the nearest of the large brine ponds, and allows you to observe Flamingos feeding at a distance of fifty metres from ground level, if they've come that close to hand. However, just prior to our arrival, a helicopter and a light plane, both equipped for spraying insecticide to suppress mosquitos, had passed by the reserve at low level. We caught sight of scores of Flamingos rising into the air from distant ponds and re-grouping after a fly-past.

Only a handful settled close to the hide today.

A hundred yards away from the hide is a renovated (air conditioned) storage shed which presents a beautiful artistic video of the Delta through the four seasons of the year. I found this very moving and inspiring. On the walls of the building were descriptions of some distinctive local wildlife, each furnished with a small window shutter behind which was a video display of the creature described. One area of floor contained a video projection of maps of the Delta during its long evolutionary history. Altogether the room is simple and effectively designed as an educational environment for children and adults. The place is beginning to be popular with schools, we were told with enthusiasm.

Next to the shed is the tallest building containing a viewing platform with powerful telescopes for looking over the lake and salt ponds, within a radius of a kilometre. It may have once been a dwelling place. It has now been adapted to provide meeting rooms for visiting groups. All the way up the stairs to the observation deck the walls are stencilled with birdie images, and simple clear instructions in Catalan, Spanish and English about how to watch birds successfully. Ingenious, better than any throw away leaflet.

The deck was equipped with five powerful telescopes, one especially for small children to use to watch birds up to half a mile away. Around the perimeter wall was a frieze of images of the birds most likely to be seen at any time, very useful for settling disputes about what was visible afar off. We spent an hour up there in blazing heat, mitigated slightly by a breeze, then we took a break for lunch, returning to the same restaurant in Poblenou del Delta, to try some other local seafood specialities, to our great delight. I managed another hour gazing over the landscape and taking photographs, while Clare took a siesta in the otherwise empty air conditioned media room - we were a little ahead of returning evening visitors - apparently evenings and mornings are the best times for observation, but that didn't fit with our schedule.

When I thought I'd had enough exposure to the sun, we drove back into St Carles del la Rapita for Clare to have a swim on the nice sandy beach there - by late afternoon it was pretty busy - before returning home, and a few hours of looking at bird pictures, realising how difficult it is to get really satisfactory material if you don't have a decent telephoto lens. Unfortunately the battery expired on my Sony camera (which does have a 10x magnification lens) after only a couple of dozen shots. I'd failed to top it up since last use. It's good battery - serves me right for forgetting.

I loved the Delta, and could spend a long long time getting to know it all year round if I had the chance. My most memorable image is not one I captured on camera. As we drove down that long straight road out to Poblenou del Delta, I saw three terns in as many miles, each was flying solo above and along the irrigation canals flanking the road (banks often decorated with tall red or yellow irises), hunting for food, heads sharply down, inspecting the water below, and just occasionally fluttering and diving abruptly into the water - just six feet away from my open car window. Lucky the road was so straight at that moment!

Here's the view from the observation desk out across the road, and in the distance is the sand bar that forms the outer boundary of the sea lagoon. You can see my Deltebre photos here