Early one morning very loud Spanish pop music reverberated through the streets, worming through my bedroom window and irritating my sleepy comfort. The perils of close neighbors, I thought. But it continued and continued, and I wondered how no one could complain of this.


Soon I discovered that this was the beginning of the gigante celebration (maybe a patron saint day). From our kitchen I could look out over the town’s plaza and see the people milling and the giant figures being lined up.




I headed out to immerse myself in this event, where groups from all over the region were setting up the gigantes that represented their town. As you can see in the pictures, these are predominantly royalty, farmers, and miners.

There is dancing, feasting, music, and games – and the gigantes themselves dance.

I got to get underneath one (the man with the scythe) and lift it.
Very heavy, and very top-heavy. Fortunately people were standing by so I did not smash the gigante of Suria into the ground and go down in town history!




Note the twins in this picture. They were on a Spanish reality show where twins competed over a few months to see who were the most alike. They won!



This picture is from around 1895. Potassium salts are mined here.

If a ship is heading to sea at an angle of maybe 60 degrees off the shore, will the bow end disappear first or will it just diminish overall? Because you know how the horizon looks so abrupt – it would be really cool if it looked like the bow fell over the edge but you could still see the stern. This question arose because I gave in to eating at the edge of the sea again. I know, it is always a disaster in some way – overpriced, not as good as what I get just 2 blocks away for half the cost, and half as much food. But the setting es muy guapa. Today I ordered pan y tomate (tomato squeezed on bread), salad, and some arroz negro, then realized that while this plus dessert and a glass of vino tinto would cost me about 9 euros off the beach, here it was over 20! And I only had 20. My sense of humor, fortunately, is more highly activated here than my embarrassment, and I employed my horrible Spanish to explain to the camarera not to bring me any rice because mi dinero no es suficiente! Better this than having to wash dishes on such a gorgeous day.



I’m not even going to talk about the debit card incident. Suffice it to say, sometimes not knowing what people are saying to me, what I’m actually ordering, or seeing, or where I am at . . . sometimes I find I’m more confused than I realize.

Last Sunday the Súria friends took me on a hike around Sant Miguel del Fai, an “espai natural” (natural space). There is a 10th century Romanesque church built under a cliff, with aqueducts channeling the water into pools and troughs. A priory house was built on the cliff in the 15th century . . . something to think about. A waterfall, grotto, and caves. Riding for a couple hours in a car with 4 people alternately speaking Catalan and Spanish, stopping for café or pan every so often, smoke smoke smoke always, the hills of Spain . . . I often just smile in disbelief that I am doing this. It is soaking into the depths of me.




Lisa and mom, remind me to make caipiriñas when I get home!




P.S. I watched a ship for quite a long time in order to answer my question. Maybe if I had a telescope I would be able to see a difference, but essentially it just got very small until it was kind of a smear on the horizon, so I couldn’t see if the bow looked like it fell off the edge of the earth.

PPS check out the mold on the wall behind my bed! A bit scary, but not as scary as this creepy black moldy meat thing hanging in the kitchen . . . it's name is morcilla, which just about says it.

The Ictineo II, the cutest little “das boot” ever to be seen! And the first submarine (well Ictineo I was the very first, but it was crushed by a freighter)! Built and cruising in 1862. Interestingly, the first Ictineo was propeller driven, with the propeller operated by 16 men! Ictineo II was steam powered.




One would think the maritime museum would be a really big deal in Barcelona, given its history and the 200-ft tall statue of Columbus that marks the climax of their maritime power. Yet it took a beautiful young woman from New York to actually show me where it was – after the maitre’d, the Aquarium ticket seller (you would think it was close when there was an aquarium), the street sweeper, and the policia all pointed me in different directions. Could possibly be my poor translation skills. Unfortunately, when I finally did find it, it is partially closed due to reconstruction. However, the building is part of the ancient wall of old Barcelona, and this portal is from the 14th century. I liked it. Me gustó.




The woman from NYC was interesting – a video anthropologist working in Croatia. We had an interesting conversation while on board the M/S Hulda. Owned by the family of Ilman Koman, an artist whose work is being displayed on the vessel in ports around the world for “The Journey of Art and Science.” Check out this tower – if you look really closely you will notice that it disturbs your sense of how things work. For example, shouldn’t the chain be suspended from something? Shouldn’t the wooden pieces be connected to something? It’s quite delightful – I would like to have one of these in my classroom or house.





Here’s a picture from their website of the Hulda under sail. Beautiful! I met the grandson of Ilman Koman, who is learning to sail her. He said that he first sailed for 2 weeks and just followed his uncle’s instructions. Then, his uncle left the ship and he learned more in 4 hours, trying to figure out what to do on his watch. I also was interviewed about my reaction to the exhibit, so maybe I’ll show up on their website some day.

All Gaudí, all day. Touring Casa Milá made me apréciate Gaudí’s vision for architecture in a way that Parc Guell or La Sagrada Familia never did. He believed light to be important in living spaces, so designed this apartment building with 2 central courtyards. The apartments on each floor wrap around the courtyard, letting light in from both the inside and outside of the building. Gaudí was a student of nature’s shapes and textures; you can see how organic his shapes are. No right angles, curved hallways and ceilings and window openings – all very lovely.






I love the use of catenary arches, and how he designed by hanging chains and then reflecting the image to see what the buiding would look like.





Parc Guell was full of school groups and languages and vendors and musicians. A lovely place, free to all.






Then, La Sagrada Familia. I read there is a huge fight over whether work should continue on it or it should be left unfinished, as all Gaudí’s models and sketches were destroyed in the civil war. But as you can see by the numerous cranes, work is going on. Supposedly the Japanese are big into funding it. The materials and the methods being used are controversial – you might be able to tell in the photos that concrete is replacing the hewn stone, and the textures are quite an unpleasant contrast.





I didn’t go inside, as I have good memories of being there with all my family in 2003 and don’t want to replace those.

Worchestershire sauce and crushed red pepper flakes – not what one might think of as essential items, yet they add that certain zip to particular foods. The expectations were high and I was nervious, as I had volunteered to prepare la cenar, the major midde-day meal with ALL the family there (including abuela Rosario, who is a fabulous cook). Ten people, used to very good food . . . and me with no worchestershire. Despite its absence, the Caesar salad was quite popular—my thanks to Betty for the BEST Caesar dressing! And who even knows what is in worchestershire sauce anyway. Croutons were quite a hit; a new item for all.




Also, I’m happy to say that my sister’s timballo recipe (post a comment and I’ll send it to you), sans red pepper flakes, received rave reviews from all, with leftovers shipped off to many. Eleven-year old Laura helped me pit 2 cups of sort-of-like kalamata olives for a couple hours on Saturday, while we practiced languages with each other. It was probably her touch, along with abuelo Juan’s home-grown, home-canned tomatoes, that made it so good!



A very fun part of the meal preparation was that Ana, Laura, and I did all the cooking at “la instituta” – the high school where Ana runs the kitchen. Located about two blocks from her house, we paraded back and forth between home and school with armloads of salad, trays of flan, and bags of baguettes.

Before going to Súria on Friday, I roamed the beachfront a bit. It was a day of shapes – and it was fun to watch the very high fashion Audi folks race these little cars to the edge of the dock, spin them on a slick, then climb the wall.










¡¡Also, the naked man was back, so a quick snap for Michele!!

It’s about 125 steps to the roof, where I hung my clothes tonight. Okay, you know me, I counted up and down and it is exactly 126. But the stars are out, it’s going down to 34 degrees F tonight, and I think they’ll be dry by tomorrow afternoon. I hope. Because I only brought a few clothes and those are my warmest.


And what I would really like to spend some euros on is boots! Boots boots boots – everyone wears them and they are cute cute cute. Boots with buckles, straps, zippers, buttons, cuffs, heels, flats, you name it. Sheesh. I have to make sure I don’t take much money with me when I go out, to prevent impulsive spending. But I am checking it out. And coats – very cute coats. Hopefully it will warm up and I will no longer be tempted by either.






Today, after working diligently for some hours, I headed out to do some Barcelona culture. I walked through the Parc de la Ciutadella, built in the 1700s as a military citadel (see great monument with fountains and gold winged chariots). I wandered through 3 different cathedrals (Cathedral of Barcelona, Santa Maria del Mar, and a smaller one I can’t identify)– you can see the pictures here although the beauty of the stained glass and soaring buttresses was difficulty to capture.




Went to the Picasso museum – I like his work far more than I ever realized. The museum is laid out in a way that supports understanding his evolution of vision. It begins with his drawings and paintings as a young man, and shows how each year he was influenced by emerging artistic movements and his environment and experiences. I vote this museum as a highlight and think someone should buy me a Picasso print (I don’t need an original, I’m easy) from his time in Cannes, either one of his studies of Velasquez’s Las Meninas or one of his painting of doves and the sea from his studio La Californie in Cannes. It cracks me up that he said, later in life when looking at the work of some adolescent artists, that he painted like a master at 16 and it took him 50 years to learn to paint like a child.




Another highlight are the streets of the Barri Gotic. Old Barcelona, with narrow curving streets lined with apartments and shops. Many pictures here.

I willingly gave up 5 years of life today (due to second-hand smoke) for calçots.

I still cannot remember how to pronounce this correctly, but they are like leeks, a bit less thick, and roasted on a barbecue. As much fun as the eating was, the gathering of about 40 neighbors topped everything.

We began outside, where a long table had been set up on sawhorses. Some wonderful sauce was distributed in small cups, bibs were tied around our necks, and bundles of newspaper wrapped calçots were laid out. Rumors of Kira’s fame in getting dirty eating these preceded my experience, and people quickly made sure my face was smeared with charcoal!



After stripping the charcoaled-outer leaves of the onions, we dipped the tender internal part in the sauce, tipped back our heads, and lowered this tasty treat into our mouths.

More difficult was the trick or drinking wine from a spouted carafe. Everyone but me was quite accomplished with their aim, but many were foiled by others flicking their fingers through the stream of wine as it poured. Getting really messy was the first order.


As people became satiated with calçots, they migrated to two large, wood-fired grills where thin slices of a pig were cooking and huge slices of bread were grilling. Meanwhile, the tables were dismantled and passed inside. After stacks of meat and bread disappeared up the stairs and through the door, I moved inside and found the table set for 40 or more, with carafes and bottles of wine, piles of tomatoes, bowls of olives, and jars of olive oil. Need I say more?!


We ate and drank and told jokes for the next couple hours, until finally the smoke drove me out for a walk in the hills. A day to remember forever, full of camaraderie that was a privilege to be invited to share.

In Súria I am known as la madre de Kira.
Everyone I am introduced to in Súria first says, ¨This must be the mother of Kira! She looks and laughs just like her!¨ My daughter is well known in this town, and well-loved. People bring out their laptops and show me pictures, and tell stories I cannot fully comprehend but are filled with laughter. It is very pleasing, an entre into a delightful world. It reminds me much of my grandmas and all their friends who dropped in, shared food, told jokes, and had a lifetime history together.

This is Ana, Kira’s Spanish mom, and Monica, the sister-in-law of Ana. Who tells a good dirty joke!


Súria itself is an interesting little town, founded around the potassium mine. An older section, with its tall structures that I think are for sorting ore and maybe drilling, dominate the north side of town, and the huge strip mine dominates the south side.


There is an old part, Poble Vell, built on the hillside, with narrow, winding cobbled streets bounded by shuttered residences and church structures.


Leaving Poble Vell, I found a dirt road and ended up in the cemetery. Given the ground is solid rock (basaltic with layers of compressed marine deposits, I think), people are buried in above-ground vaults.

Coming back down I heard drumming and horns playing. I wound through rock tunnels, up steep stairs, and around stone buildings to find the band practice of a group of guys hanging out around their cars.

My puritan work ethic continues to be corrupted by Catalan culture! Esta buena. I set out this morning with intentions to be at the library by 9:00; yesterday I found (based upon Kira’s recommendation) a great spot with tables full of university students tapping away on their laptops. As I walked up the Ramblas toward the Metro, however, the outdoor tables and chairs were again set up after yesterday’s pouring, blowing rain. A not-so-quick detour for a sunny café-con-leche and croissant.



Onward to la biblioteca. But a quick stop to buy a new French press – yes, my cheap Chinese one already shattered when I accidentally tapped it a bit too hard on the granite countertop. (Don’t let “granite” conjure up visions of your large, remodeled, western kitchen. This one measures about 7’x7’. And I am squatting in this apartment with 2 twenty-somethings, one of whom works long hours and the other who is a guy [no offense to my guy friends out there, but you know], so don’t be thinking “kitchen couture.”)



Anyway, I passed by a fabulous market, with outdoor stalls selling all kinds of coffee-making supplies and an indoor section brimming with fresh fish, fruits and vegetables, nuts and cheeses and meats. Truly lovely. I got figs and manzanas that I could use for quick sustenance later, after my hours of writing. However, as I approached the library, it looked dark and unoccupied. Inexplicable, as the hours on the door seemed to indicate it should be open. Although the days of the week were not in Espanol. (My lack of understanding of the Catalan language renders me somewhat deaf and dumb, to use an outdated and politically incorrect phrase that well describes my state in that when people speak I cannot understand, and I cannot communicate very well in return.) But, since I never really have any definite plans tied to any kind of time frame (what a luxury!!!), I ambled off down the Traveserra de Gracia, found one of the ubiquitous benches in the sun, and paused to reformulate the day. I had, from Kira, the address of another library back in my neighborhood, so I identified a close Metro station and strolled along. When I came across a long queue of other-than-Spanish/Catalan speaking people, I looked up and realized I was standing next to Gaudi’s Casa Mila (Google it for pics, as I didn’t have my camera). Rather reminiscent of fungus – in a good, foresty way. And more of his architecture down the Passeig, as well as other strange buildings (Modernisme, the guide book tells me). Serendipity!

But my research partners who are reading this will be happy to know I finally made it to the other library, where I was deep into the composition of an amazing paragraph on collaborative inquiry, when pop music disturbed my quiet retreat. Someone’s cell phone, I think. As it went on, I wondered why the librarian wasn’t jumping up to shush someone. Then the lights began flashing. Ah, yes, 2:00. The two-hour, oh-so-sane lunch reprieve. We really should pay attention to this. So, despite my intentions to eat only figs and an apple, the beach beckoned. And, once there, a lovely restaurant with a view of the many surfers taking advantage of the remnants of yesterday’s storm called to me. Totally overpriced, as all lovely view restaurants are. But the sopa de pescado was delicious, the vino tinto smooth, and who can resist un postre (dessert)! By the end of April I will be of reduced means and eating only the rice I purchased, with such good intentions, earlier this week.

Here's a pic of my roomies -- they treat me quite nicely. Jose and I try to communicate, and Esther knows 4 or 5 languages, so at the end of the day she can answer all my questions.

And here is just a nice picture