Córdoba - Beauty through Dramatic Change

Changes that happens beyond our control usually increase our levels of concern... particularly when change involves us coming into contact with people of different customs and beliefs. At the end of the period of integration, it is possible to have greater beauty than if no change had occurred at all. Córdoba Mesquita is a case in point. Today, the Mesquita  has elegance sufficient to withstand decades of tour bus visits. After viewing the Cathedral you will spend the remainder of your life seeking a different kind of beauty.

When the Islamists defeated the Visigoth kingdom, the current site of the Mesquita was divided between the Muslims and Christians... both religions using the site for worship. Many years later when Abd al-Rahman I came from Syria and defeated the incumbent Islamic ruler, he allowed the Christians to rebuild their ruined churches around Córdoba, but purchased the Christian half of the Mesquita on the site. Abd al-Rahman I and his descendants reworked the site for over two centuries to fashion it as a spectacular mosque, starting in 784. Mr Rahman bought in leading architects from Damascus. They build a forest of columns linked by double arches... providing building strength for a large area... but also giving the building with lightness and spaciousness. Damascus was pleased to have helped Córdoba build a fine mosque. However, after 200 years, the Córdoba mosque had displaced the Damascus building as the centrepiece of mosque architecture.

Upheaval recurred in 1236...when Ferdinand III reconquered Córdoba for the Christians... followed by a purification ritual which caused each stone of the edifice to be consecrated to Christ. A chapel was constructed beneath the skylight of the existing mosque... but the sea of columns was not destroyed. This minimalist approach to changing the building was retained until 1523, when 3 architects presented an inspired design that rebuilt the centre of the building giving focus and splendour for a unique Cathedral... as it exists today.

This building combines the best of Islamic and Christian architecture... an effect that could not have been achieved without dramatic change. This site is ready to bring together the world's major religions. In 2004, Islamists sought permission to worship in the old mosque part of the building during certain hours. The Vatican considered the issue but declined to give permission. Oh well, perhaps in time.

Spanish Character Reference

Inevitably, travel means taking risks... being outside your comfort zone... not always in control. So far we have been amazed how few things have gone wrong. The balance was bought back into a more realistic balance last night when someone broke the back passenger window of our car and took a suit case containing our winter clothes and another bag containing our walking boots.

Interestingly, the effect of the theft has left us feeling more fond of the Spanish... because of their reactions to us in our hour of need. Just for the record, here is a list of good deeds... and generous reactions.

:-) The entire staff of the restaurant where we ate immediately before discovering the theft left their duties and came to us to hear of our misfortune and provide advice... and provide us with a map.

:-) The pizza hut man who we asked directions, switched off all his kebab fires so that he could spend 10 minutes on his iPhone searching for iMaps for the address of the police station.

:-) The customer in the pizza hut volunteered to accompany us to the police station so that we would not get lost... she was extra sweet.

:-) The desk duty policeman (with no English) who was sure we were there to report a traffic incident... wanted to show us the location of the proper place to report... the sweet girl who persisted in explaining that we were reporting a theft... and insisted that we were at the proper reporting place. The duty officer was all smiles and welcome when the translation finally was understood.

:-) The criminal investigation officer who interrupted his work to prepare a report that we needed for insurance purposes.

:-) The scientific investigation policeman who searched our vehicle looking for fingerprints. Unfortunately, there were none. He then obtained plastic and tape to enclose the smashed window, so it was suitable for road travel.

All these generous gestures came from people who are not short of their own difficulties... the GFC has hit the Spanish economy quite hard... 25% unemployment... but it has not blunted their generous spirit.

If ever Spain needs a character reference, I'll be the first to volunteer for the task. Sure, they have a small proportion of criminals in their society... the same as every other community. But we have found people in the street to be delightful... full of fun... and generous in spirit.

Cuenca - another piece of the jigsaw puzzle

You know the general thrust of history for inland Spain:

Neolithic - ragtag of small tribes spending all their energies fighting each other
Roman - period of building a state with good infrastructure
Visigoths - pestilence... cold climate... poor government... waste of time
Moors - agricultural revolution... new crops... irrigation... good regional defence ... artistic standards pushed to new heights
Christian revival - reclaiming of land from Arabs - cooler climate... splintering into smaller states
Renaissance - warmer climates... better agriculture... concentration into larger states... golden period for the arts.

Cuenca missed out on Roman rule in its history. The Arabs did a great job building a castle and defensive walls that allowed a prosperous weaving industry to flourish. In 1177 King Alfonso VIII defeated the Arabs and made Cuenca his capital... for a while. Importantly, during his reign, the construction of the Cathedral was commenced. Today, the Cathedral of Cuenca is its crowning glory. The builder of the first phase, Bishop Juan, is the patron saint of the city. But every generation of Cuenca citizens has made further investments in the exquisite collection of art housed inside. Of particular note are the marble statues arranged in panoramas... standing on the floor of the Cathedral... around which you can walk. The use of different colours of marble shows great skill (in my humble opinion) .

There have been long periods of hardship for Cuenca... and a couple of periods of prosperity. It is surprising that the Cathedral has managed to retain its artistic treasures over the difficult periods. Today, tourism keeps the town afloat... not much else happening.

The layout of the medieval towns is interesting. Although there is not a malaria mosquito within 100 klms, the towns are still built on hills. Living on a steep slope has advantages... a decent shower of rain washes the streets clean of filth and disease carrying bacteria. South facing villages (the norm) provide sunlight for most of the inhabitants... helping with hygiene and heating.

The church and marketplace are typically located at the high point of the village. In days before coffee shops and supermarkets, the marketplace and church were the places to hang-out... have a good chat and catch up on the latest gossip... and learn the newest technology that allowed improvements in daily work. Having the market at the top of the hill allowed citizens the advantages of carrying loads downhill. The disadvantage is that district farmers and water carters needed to carry their loads right up to the top of the hill to reach the market... but they often had donkeys to help with the transport.

Today has been cold and windy... a clear sign of a seasonal change. It gave us a reminder of the relative discomfort medieval citizens faced in living out their allocated lifespan of 35 years (forget the 3 score years and ten).
In many ways, it is amazing how much these 'young' communities achieved... how well young kids of 20-30 organised themselves in testing conditions. Ask them if they preferred global warming or global cooling... and the answer would have been unanimous. Times have changed.

Teruel - The Saddest Mausoleum Ever

Today, we drove through the town of Teruel... one of the first capital cities of Aragon. The town was initially settled by the Arabs... so when the Christian Aragon family finally managed to claim the territory, they found good infrastructure... good agriculture... and a community prosperous after 400 years of relative peace.

Today's story starts in medieval times... in the 13th century. Young Juan Diego de Marcilla and Isabel de Segura fell in love... a match made in heaven. But true love never runs smoothly ... that's what they say... and here is a case in point. Isabel's father wanted a good return for the big investment he made in raising the beautiful Isabel... and set a demanding dowry price. Juan did not choose his parents nearly as well. He looked at the dowry and 'gulped'... he ran to Isabel's father and said... "We love each other... give me 5 years to become wealthy so that I can pay you the dowry". "OK", said Dad, "that's a deal".

Juan disappeared for 5 years. Dad kept his word. But just to make sure, he did some preliminary negotiations with a couple of neighbouring wealthy families. At 5 years and one day, Dad said, "Time's up!" got on his horse, rode down the road to the highest bidder and said, "Marry the girl today... she's yours for the agreed dowry". Isabel was heart broken... but her father would not relent. She was married that afternoon (in the year of 1217).

Juan appeared the next day... happy that he had in his pocket the agreed dowry. "Isabel, we can be married!", he shouted. He couldn't understand when Isabel started crying. She explained that Juan was a day late and that she had been auctioned off to the highest bidder. Juan was mortified! He too broke down sobbing. "Just give me one kiss to make my life meaningful", he begged. "No", said Isabel, "I have been married... and I must remain true to my marriage vows".

This was too much for Juan... he fell to his knees... and died of a broken heart.

Isabel realised her priorities may have been a little mixed up. She lent over the dead body of her true love and gently kissed his still warm corpse... and then died of her own broken heart.

Dad appeared on the scene... figured out what had happened and said, "Perhaps true love is more important than money (or words to that effect)." He had the couple buried in a special crypt in the church at Teruel.

The final chapter in this touching story occurred in the 14th century, when the leading sculptor of his day, Juan de Ávalos captured the pure love of the couple in an alabaster carving. The couple lie with their heads titled endearingly towards each other. Their hands reach out to touch each other in their repose... but their hands do not quite meet.

Today, we read 'Mills and Boon' for our romantic fix... but who can beat the true romantics from the Renaissance era. Pure magic! I can see all my older male friends reaching for their handkerchiefs as they read this tale.

Alquézar - Canyon Country

Admit it... you have never heard of the mountain town of Alquézar... put a map of the world in front of you and you are just as likely to press your pin into Mexico as you are to choose the Spanish side of the Pyrenees... sitting on a mountaintop... surrounded by ravines... chosen by an Aragon king for his impenetrable castle.

This place is remote. To get here, we traversed some of our most daring driving to date. Here is how it happened... we came upon council roadworks. We followed one of the big trucks delivering road base for 3 klms... politely eating his dust without comment... but becoming ever more eager to overtake to get a breath of fresh air. Finally, the chance came... we accelerated rapidly through the dust... great driving. In our excitement, we failed to see the detour sign. We accelerated, only to go up the loading bay where the trucks were refilling with road base. We stopped... the same truck overtook us, then stopped... the guy driving a front end loader threw his hands in the air... we all sat looking at each other. The front end loader man started pointing up to some cleared land running beside his pile of road fill. "He must be kidding", Joye and I said to each other. The front end loader man was losing his patience and added instructions in Spanish to his gesticulations. We nudged forward... then realising a half- hearted effort was not going to work... hit the accelerator... closed our eyes and hoped for the best. Somehow, we avoided boulders, cliffs and potholes... arrived at the top without incident... rolled down back onto the road on the other side of the truck reloading area... and continued on our way.

We enjoyed our drive to Alquézar through canyon country... canyons surround the town. Half the tourists are young adventurers... here for the canyonning. The photos in the windows of the canyonning adventure companies don't really work for me... in fact, they scare me. Pictures show climbers in the air... suspended by wedging themselves between the two walls of the canyon. No, we'll content ourselves with a visit to the ancient church and castle. Our hotel room has a great view of both.

The church is perched high on the rock overlooking the village. Initially built by the Arabs in the 8th-9th century, the interior shows lightness in architecture... in contrast to the block defensive style of its exterior. The Aragon kings added to its design... and restoration work means you need to look closely to see the 8th century work.

It's hot here... our landlady said the temperature on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees would be 5° hotter... and she was right. We crossed the border through a 3 klm tunnel at 1,700 metres altitude... you could immediately see you were in a different country... differences in village buildings... differences in people's manner... the way they wear their clothes... their facial expressions. You wouldn't think a line on a map would make so much difference... perhaps it's the mountain range that makes all the difference.

Lower Pyrenees - plenty of excitement down here

Today is the last of the Pyrenees holiday we are spending with Kathie and Graeme... we planned a quieter day looking up interesting spots in the Pyrenees Foothills... unfortunately quiet days are hard to find in this part of the world.

Graeme is renowned for his competitive spirit... which, today, has manifest itself in claims as to who has the best Satellite Navigation system. Is Cecilia (Graeme's system) better than Peggy. We have taken turns in providing transport for each day's adventure... and the road system in this farmland community is very intricate... so each SatNav system has been pushed to its capability. Each time Graeme's system has made an error, I have reminded him of the Simon and Garfunkel song, "Cecilia" by singing the lyrics... "Cecilia, you're breaking my heart... You're shaking my confidence daily". Each time Peggy made a mistake, Graeme suggests we should book her into a French finishing school. The claim and counter-claim has reached the point where we have planned to put Cecilia into my car (it is a portable system) and get real-time comparisons of error rates and response times... the things grown men get excited about!
Unfortunately, we have run out of time.

Today, Graeme was driving... we only had 50 klms to cover... an ancient Abbey and Castle followed by a special walk along the river bank... an easy day in the making. We entered the name of the town into Cecilia's system and headed off for the short drive. Inevitably, Cecilia made a mistake... Graeme disconnected her and put her in the glove box. However, his infatuation with her knows no bounds... before we reached the parking lot he had Cecilia back in control... all reconnected ... with Graeme pointing out the superior colour of the road displayed by Cecilia... and the road being displayed as much wider.

The Abbey (Cistercian Abbey of Escaladieu) is over 1,000 years old... and occupied 100 monks (from aristocratic families) plus about 1,000 lay-monks from local peasant farmers (who did all the hard work). They cleared the thick forests that harboured highwaymen and other villains... allowing the community to become much more productive. With such a large and disciplined labour force, the Abbey proved a commercial success. The true monks took vows of silence... lived a life of under-nourishment... with no heating... but being offered the chance to be elected as prior or abbot... thus entering the decision-making circles of the country. The real benefit from being a monk is that their family gained social standing... every good family had a monk in its ranks... and it cost nothing to put them into service.

The Castle (Château de Mauvezin) was built at the same time as the Abbey... and provided the Abbey with its security. Its heyday was in the age of chivalry... supported by the emergence of a new language the Occitan... that supplanted Roman derived languages... and promoted concepts of love, sacrifice and commitment. Equality of the sexes didn't get much of a mention... but you can't get everything. Our grandchildren would love to play with the 12th century instruments of war... and the armour that required herculean strength just to stand up in the suit.

Our last activity was a walk beside a small stream... seeing a saw mill driven by water power... and charcoal burning incinerators... all very interesting.

Tomorrow, we are all heading back to Spain... but continuing our separate adventures.

Pyrenees - the Big Four

From our rural farmhouse, there are four big tourist attractions. In the last three days we have managed to tick off all four.

The first is Lourdes... not a tourist must... but if you are a people watcher... it provides a unique experience... even before you get to the miracles.

The other big three are mountain made attractions. We think of ourselves as having been well exposed to the grandeur of mountains... we will not be awestruck at the first slope we experience. Against that measure, we found the Pyrenees dramatic... not as pretty as the Dolomites... not as majestic as the Swiss Alps... but right up there in showing-off the brute force of nature.

The French Pyrenees was subjected to severe flooding at the end of June. Seeing the size of boulders 1,000 metres up the hill and seeing the sister boulders lying beside the roadway at the bottom of the valley was a reminder that nature has awesome power. Boulders ten metres in height have been tossed like marbles crushing roads and buildings. A number of roads have been put on restrictive opening times to allow the road building crews the time needed to clear the debris and rebuild the roads. A number of houses have been lost in the deluge.

Against this recent history, we lift our eyes to the hills... now looking very gentle... meek and mild... covered with alpine pastures just starting to yellow into autumn colours. The cows are still grassing the summer grasses. The scheduled time for moving the cows down to the valley in the Dolomites was the equinox (22nd September)... but here they allow a little more time for summer grassing. This year's autumn has been so mild that the delay has proved a good decision.

Our first venture into the high country was to visit the Pic Du Midi. This site was developed by French television as their highest broadcasting tower... covering a wide spread of France. Our chairlift took us up to 3,100 metres and gave a spectacular view of the lower Pyrenees. For the next couple of days, we could lift or eyes up and see that peak from many of the Pyrenees valleys.

Our third of the big four sites was taking up a long valley to reach a dramatic waterfall at Gavarnie. We arrived late in the day when the magnificent waterfall was in shade, so our photographs were not too clear. The exercise tested our fitness... the first challenging walk we had completed for a few weeks. On the way home we took the road pass that traversed the Pyrenees just under Pic Du Midi. Driving over this pass was one of the highlights of our Pyrenees stay.

Today we visited the last of the big four. It was a walk to a glacial lake in the Cauterets region. We packed our picnic lunch... caught a couple of chairlifts to the alpine region... and found a comfortable rock beside the lake. We have been remarkably lucky with the weather... after devastating floods a little while back.... we have been given still sunny days... very little cloud... and unusually warm temperatures.

Each night, we have returned home after sunset... to enjoy a meal cooked using the traditional ingredients of the area... by our world famous chef... our landlady, Cathie. We feel very spoilt... very fortunate to see the Pyrenees at their very best.

Lourdes - Ethical Paradox

We had heard that Lourdes was tacky... if France had a Las Vegas, it would be Lourdes... tick the box quickly and move on.
After today, I can tell you there is much more to Lourdes than squeezing a quick buck from the gullible... that aspect of Lourdes is visible... it has some of the best healed beggers in France.

Historically, you must remember that the Virgin Mary came to Lourdes as an apparition... not as a visitation. The importance of this distinction was emphasised by those promoting the sacred aspect of the Basilica in Zaragoza (where the Virgin Mary is supposed to have carried a pillar of stone to help build the first Christian church in Spain). In Lourdes, Virgin Mary simply appeared out of the mists and disappeared again... a wonderful event for the faithful... but still can't compare with carting a pillar of stone across two continents.

Putting aside the historic aspects, the significance of Lourdes comes home when you see that one in four people on the streets is a true believer who has made the pilgrimage as a last resort. Their doctor may have indicated that medicine can offer no further help... their psychic may be tormented by unrelenting stress... they may be seeing a loved one disappearing before their eyes. For them, Lourdes is far more than a spin off the wheel of fortune... and see what happens... for some of them, it is their last hope.

We asked our landlady, "When was a miracle last recorded within Lourdes?" She replied that miracles occur at Lourdes each and every day. She is a well educated lady with world experience (once part of a French snow skiing team)... and also has a son who suffered a disability at birth. Clearly, she is a believer.

In between services at the Grotto, attendees are allowed to wander behind the altar and touch the rock where the apparition of the Virgin Mary was seen. The four of us (Kathie, Graeme, Joye and I) found ourselves in the queue... simply by following the crowd. The lady beside me was kissing a picture of a relative as we made our way towards the rock face... one chap a few metres behind us was sobbing uncontrollably... many people in the congregation were on their knees praying while waiting the start of the next service... queues of people stood next to taps gushing forth 'holy water' that they were using to scrub their arms, legs and faces to wash away all their sins. There was tension in the air... for some, this was not fun and games.

Now the more cynical amongst us may say that these sweet people are being exploited by putting a religious overlay on top of beliefs that are not rational... in other words, God is not likely to cure my ills simply because I made the trip to Lourdes... very few serious theologians would make that claim. Nonetheless, the church has built an enormous Basilica at the site... showing bright colours and moving sculptures to deliberately convey the message that the church endorses such primative beliefs... the church takes up collections of money... the church sells merchandise along with all the other money grabbers... some big candles were on sale for €75, and allowed to burn closer to the site of the apparition. We were all secretly wishing to see a miracle... a wheelchair ridden child step up and walk away... a bent very old lady rise from her praying to say she had been cured of her cancer... but to no avail.

Is it a crime for the church to encourage believers to invest so much emotional energy in hopes that will not come true? Wouldn't it be more Christian to spend time with the disabled and help them learn to live with their reality... and to seek rational ways to improve their quality of life?
That's a question each of us will need to answer for ourselves.

Testing French Humour

Last night, we met up with Kathie and Graeme for a five day jaunt in the French Pyrenees. We are in a 17th century farmhouse... hosted by a charming French lady... who offers an evening meal as part of her hospitality. We showered, put on clean clothes... even found a pair of long trousers. Joining us at dinner were two French ladies... the only other guests staying at the farm house... who were not exposed to Australian humour... let alone Graeme's humour.

The evening meal started with appropriate decorum... testing the robustness of the ladies to handle controversial statements. French racial tolerance came under close questioning... and Dominique handled the stress by giving back as good as she got. Dominique is a lecturer in English at a local university... so she understood the subtleties of the dialogue. The other lady, Celine, had poor English... and Dominique had to translate summaries of the conversation.

After the meal, everyone was enjoying the wine and in a relaxed mood. At that time, Graeme asked Dominique how the French nation was responding to the Syrian crisis... where allocations of use of poisonous gas in their civil war have been made. He asked if it was accurate that the highest level of terrorist response was 'surrender'. Dominique asked what he was talking about... and Graeme produced a report from John Cleese. He started to read it... and Dominique started translating... the process broke down because of Dominique's uncontrolled laughter... Celine wanting to be told what all the laughing was about.

We were left in no doubt that at least two French people have a delightful, generous sense of humour. We were left in no doubt that Graeme's future career doesn't belong in the diplomatic corps.

The following is a reproduction of the John Cleese article:

The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Syria and have therefore raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorised from "Tiresome" to "A Bloody Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.

The Scots have raised their threat level from "Pissed Off" to "Let's get the Bastards." They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France's white flag factory, effectively paralysing the country's military capability.

Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans have increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher levels: "Invade a Neighbour" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Australia, meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to "She'll be right mate." Two more escalation levels remain: "Crikey! I think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!" and "The barbie is cancelled." So far no situation has ever warranted use of the last final escalation level.

~ John Cleese - British writer, actor and tall person. Regards

Pious Pilgrims - the Way

Today, we travelled from St-Jean-Pied-de-Port to Asque to meet with Kathie and Graeme... the plan is to walk some paths in the Pyrenees... drive to some of the mountain peaks... perhaps pop over to Lourdes to watch a few miracles.

We started pretty early and were surprised to see lots of pilgrims along the road in places where they would have needed to start at 6 AM to have reached the isolated positions in which we saw them. They looked like they were putting in a solid effort... flushed faces... focused eyes... too stressed to return the waves we were giving. In the tiny village of L'Hopital-St-Blaise we talked to a pilgrim who had been averaging 40 klms per day... that's 8 hours of walking at a speed of 5 kph... quite an effort to sustain over a couple of weeks. This chap has planned to stay in Navarrenx for a week. "Do you need to recuperate", we asked him. "No... doing the pilgrimage puts you on such a spiritual high... I just want to sit and enjoy the feeling", he replied.

He was washing his clothes in a stream beside the small ancient church in L'Hopital-St-Blaise hanging them out to dry on the wall surrounding the church. This spot had evolved to serve the pilgrims... first as a hospital to cure the ailing Pilgrims... a lot of them were making the trip seeking a cure for an ailment... and in the middle ages, there were thousands upon thousands of them. The field hospital grew into a house and eventually became a church. This one was founded by a priest who had special healing powers. Local farmers would pay to him in the belief that his blessing would cure their sore throats and diseases of cattle. I have included his picture below for you to use if you have a sore throat or have any sick cattle.

The area here is simply beautiful. The foothills of the Pyrenees have very fertile valleys and get plenty of rainfall. Not what I was expecting at all.

St-Jean-Pied-de-Port - Pilgrims Way

Have you ever dreamed of putting your life in the hands of fate... taking to the road towards the nearest site where a saint has been buried... without planning your trip... without protecting yourself against bandits and other perils of the road... just trusting in fate... whatever happens will be for the best? No??? Neither have I... but plenty of people have. This year an expected 180,000 people will trek part (or all) of The Way of St James to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in northwestern Spain, where tradition has it, that the remains of the apostle Saint James are buried. One big attraction in choosing The Way of St James is that you can earn plenary indulgences... which is a remission of temporal punishment due to sin, the guilt of which has been forgiven. It's my guess that a few of us could well do with a truck load of plenary indulgences... so this could be our holiday of a lifetime.

Tonight, we are staying in Valcarlos... a tiny village lost in a narrow valley that runs down to the town of St-John-Pied-de-Port... an important stamping spot along The Way... you see, the Church just doesn't take you at your word. You can't bowl up to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in northwestern Spain and say, "Oh yes, Father, I ran The Way in just one week... and carried crippled ladies across flooded rivers... and rescued little kittens stranded up trees." No, the church needs corroborated evidence to support your claims... they can't just go around handing out plenary indulgences willy nilly! Heaven would get too crowded. You need to have a Pilgrims Passport that you have stamped at specified locations... usually where an important medieval church had been built. St-John-Pied-de-Port is one such passport stamping place. I don't want to undermine your faith in the pilgrim process, but while in the passport stamping office, I did see money changing hands... I just hope that passport falsification is covered by plenary indulgences.

Again, not wanting to undermine your confidence, but there is some doubt that the body of St James made it back to Spain. We know he died in Jerusalem... and requested that his body be interred in Spain... where he was instrumental in establishing the Christian Church along the Ebro River. But legend has it that his boat overturned at sea and his body was lost... except for a miracle... it was washed up on the beach at Santiago de Compostela... without any decomposition... except it was covered in sea shells. That is why Pilgrims usually carry a sea shell with them. So the faithful brought him ashore and buried him. Twelve hundred years later, the church wanted to build a cathedral on the spot where he was buried... but no one knew where it was... no records had been kept... except they were saved by another miracle. A shepherd (you can always accept the word of a lonely shepherd) had a vision of blinding light... went to his priest and asked what it meant. The priest said that the shepherd had seen the burial place of St James... the sheperd walked down the road and pointed to the spot where the light bit the ground... thereby allowing the church to build the Cathedral in the exact position of St James' burial... how lucky was that! Because, if you walked 300 klms to earn plenary indulgences... but missed out receiving them because you got the destination wrong... you'd be pretty upset... at least I would.

The pilgrims we saw did not look a very pious lot... drinking their beer... wearing the correct labelled walking gear... laughing at their own jokes... just like you and me, really. We saw just one who may have had some 'messiatorial' qualities... standing beneath the giant Jesus on the headland at San Sebastian... calling out for people to follow him and fight for world peace... he had the eyes, voice and posture of Charlton Heston... I would have followed him... except it was getting dark and Joye said it was time to go home (to our hotel).

Basque Country - Full of Heros

Quick quiz:

1). Who are the descendants of the artists who painted the CroMagnum horses in the caves in the Pyrenees?
2). Who were the best whalers ever... even better than the Japanese?
3). Who did Christopher Columbus choose to sail his ships to America?
3). Who were the first people to sail around the world... hint... you may think of Portuguese because Magellan was Portuguese... but remember that Magellan died in the Philippines... so didn't complete the circumnavigation.
4). Who was the major supplier of cast iron to the Roman Empire?

If you answered BASQUE to all of the above... pat yourself on the back... you're a genius.
Today, we are in San Sebastian... in Basque Country. Historically, not looked upon as important in the region... San Sebastian depends on tourism for its wealth... always has... and Basques don't put much store in froth-and-bubble ways of making a living. They have always been leaders in pig iron... first in monopolising the Roman trade... and in the 15th century, supplying 80% of Britain's iron. So these guys are not red necked hill billies... they have been in the wings of international events for a long time... not dominating... but understanding what was going on and looking after their own interests.

Recent history has not been kind to the Basques. France and Spain cut the Basque region in half when they established their border along the Pyrenees. The Castillian state has made promises and broken promises about self government for the Basques with monotonous regularity. (They are not too unhappy with the current arrangements.)
The Basques made themselves look foolish in the civil war. Because of their industrial base, the Basque population was keen to experiment with communism (as were other industrial cities at that time)... and so sided with the Republican Army. But Franco was clever in splitting the Catholic Church between the opposing sides... he was prepared to give the church considerable powers in his dictatorship. This caused fracturing within the Basque area... the locals followed their local church clergy in deciding with whom to fight. Anyway, an Italian regiment surrounded a good part of the depleted Basque Republican troops... it was time to show metal... glory or death. Just when the battle was about to start, the part of the church supporting Franco said to the Republic Basques, "We'll get Franco to promise not to damage your steel plants and give you independent statehood... if you give up and go home." "Alright", said the Republican Basque army... only to have Franco grind them into the dust as soon as his dictatorship was organised.

The civil war is now just beyond living memory... but feelings are still raw... injustices still remembered. You can understand why politicians welcomed the introduction of the European Union... to provide another layer to paper over regional conflicts within national borders that have not been forgotten.

San Sebastian is a great tourist town. Each time the place has been ruined through war or fire, the good citizens of San Sebastian have applied lots of thought and energy into its rebuilding. Its old city is just old enough to offer medieval charm. Its feel is more Victorian... big blocks of stone... straight streets intersecting at 90%... delightful beaches right in the city centre.

Put San Sebastian on your tourist itinerary.

Hemingway - Running of the Bulls - Civil War - Pamplona

We walked into the Hemingway Cafe in Plaza del Castillo, downtown Pamplona. We ordered tapas and beer... looked around the near-empty Cafe and asked "Where did Earnest Hemingway like to sit". The girl behind the bar looked puzzled... but then pleased with her English language skills, smiled and pointed to the toilet. Hemingway didn't mind the odd cleansing ale... so I thought she probably understood my question after all.

Hemingway loved his bull fights... he first attended the Festival of San Fermín in Pamplona in 1923... but developed an intense fascination with bull fighting. As for running with the Bulls through the streets of Pamplona, we don't know if Ernest climbed down from his balcony window to join the party... he may well have... he was that sort of bloke.
We walked the streets where the Bulls run... there aren't many safe escape routes... we were not disappointed to have missed the party.
Amongst the tourist trinkets, Pamplona offers underpants for men with a bull printed in the crutch region... with the inscription saying... 'I Run With The Bulls' ... Joye wouldn't let me buy a pair... said something about it being false advertising.

Hemingway has become something of a hero in Pamplona... not least because of his activities during the civil war. He was employed by an American newspaper to cover the conflict... and in that role talked to both sides. However, rumour has it that during the latter part of the war he gave briefings to the Republican Army... that assisted their war effort... didn't do them much good... they lost... but at least he tried. His war experiences are reflected in his novel 'For Whom the Bell Tolls'... his best work.

The countryside around Pamplona is dramatic... lying on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees. This region saw a lot of conflict from the Christian kingdoms pushing the Moors southward in the 13th century. The countryside is riddled with mountain forts used to defend territory. One thing missing from the countryside is Bulls... didn't see one all day. The locals claim the Bulls are bred especially for the event... I don't know... I reckon they are imported from Australia.

It seems that every village in Spain has a Roman chapter to its history. Pamplona was founded by Pompey... in a very small way. This makes Pamplona a very early settlement. Most of the building activity occurred under Augustus Caesar 75 years later. The village was under Moorish control for a century... but their involvement is not evident today. In the medieval period, Pamplona became the capital of a small but wealthy state. As such, it justified having its own cathedral... another huge structure packed with the best art from the Gothic and Renaissance period. If the effort put into religion and art had been invested into agriculture or industry... imagine how much more advanced the nation would have been. Could've, Would've, Should'a... such is history.

Zaragoza - the Seat of Empire

As we have moved around the Mediterranean, we have encountered references to Aragon's involvement in some of the most unexpected places. Zaragoza is the heart of the Aragon region... so, today we had the goal of finding out about the Aragon Empire. There are no museums dedicated to the topic. Our non-existent Spanish skills made it impossible to question the walkers at other museums. So, in desperation, we had to search the Web and piece together information collected along the way.

For those of you unwilling to learn the lessons of history, please stop reading... this blog has turned into a history lesson... my apologies! Those of you yearning to taste the richness of medieval European intrigue ... please read on. 

Since Roman times, Aragon had its own language and own currency. The house of Aragon became influential when it played its part in removing the Moors from its region. Success in Aragon encouraged other states within ancient Spain to launch military action against the Islamist rulers. Aragon gained more influence when it joined through marriage with the House of Barcelona in 1137. They succeeded in expanding their territory within Spain... but quickly the House of Castile organised an effective army that blocked western expansion. Aragon had significant success in the Provence and neighbouring areas of France... but the small size of the home base population put limits on its growth. You may recall that the Cathar religion sprang up in the Aragon sections of Provence... which caused the Roman Catholic Church to ask France to occupy the territory and clean up the mess of the religious landscape that Aragon had allowed to develop... but that was in 1229.

Aragon started to have success with diplomatic conquests. They approached a number of smaller states around the Mediterranean and offered them membership into a confederation of states... while swearing loyalty to the king of Aragon, each state was allowed to retain its existing government structures... their own taxes... religion... culture... and classes. Aragon collected additional taxes from each state... but at a reasonable rate. The benefit for the individual states was that they claimed membership of a larger group that reduced the risk of smaller neighbours picking fights.

The Crown of Aragon eventually included the Kingdom of Aragon, the County of Barcelona, the Kingdom of Valencia, the Kingdom of Majorca, the Kingdom of Sicily, Malta, the Kingdom of Naples and Kingdom of Sardinia. For brief periods the Crown of Aragon also controlled Montpellier, Provence, Corsica, the Duchy of Neopatria in Latin Greece and the Duchy of Athens.

Given its size and location, Aragon had no right to gain such a large empire in a period when other states had much larger armies. Their dominance came to a peaceful end when the House of Aragon and the House of Castile united in marriage in 1469. (There was probably considerable diplomatic pressures that lead to the marriage... but large scale conflict was avoided... for the time being). Having an empire that survived for over 300 years is not bad... not up to the Roman standards... but pretty good! Aragon did not rape and pillage its colonies... its army was only of modest size... so their expenditure was low.... signs of wealth within Zaragoza are not as ostentatious as some other seats of empire. But the churches in Zaragoza are huge... the collection of medieval art is extensive... the city's design is grand. It remains a mystery to me why Zaragoza takes a low profile in displaying itself as a seat of empire. Perhaps there are other chapters of the story yet to be discovered.

Zaragoza - Two Impressive Buildings

Today, we are in Zaragoza, Spain's fifth largest city... sitting on the Ebro River... two hundred kilometres or more from the coast. The Romans settled the area... as a stopping-off point on their trip down from their fabulous gold mine at Las Médules. So much history has occurred since the Romans that little evidence of their occupation remains in Zaragoza... but history keeps turning up at unexpected spots. Just recently, a regular foundation dig for a new building uncovered an amphitheatre. Zaragoza is crazy about the involvement that Caesar Augustus had in their history. The city claims that the city name of Zaragoza is a corruption of Caesar Augustus... after interpretations through the Visigoth, Moors, Aragon and other intervening languages... could be... but a bit of a stretch.

So far, we have visited two buildings that have captured our imaginations... the Basilica El Pilar... and the Palacio de la Aljaferia Cortes de Aragon (a bit of a mouthful).

The Basilica El Pilar is taken seriously as a fully credited pilgrim site... so, out of respect to those tens of people we saw this morning experiencing a spiritual event, please keep any cynical comments to yourself when you hear the basis on which the site became a pilgrim site. Just before her Assumption, the Virgin Mary made a visitation from Palestine up to Zaragoza to give James the Apostle some moral support in converting the Aragon citizens. You will know of the Virgin Mary's apparitions at Lourdes, Faisal, Banneux, La Salette, Higüey and many others... but with Zaragoza, she made a visitation... walking all the way from Jerusalem... carrying a pillar of marble... we couldn't discover if she carried the pillar herself... or if she travelled with a group... for the true believer, these matters of detail are of no importance! The pillar was given central prominence in the building of the first church... an old temple that the Romans let the Christians have. A Gothic church was built on the same spot in 1515... and the present structure was commenced in 1681... with various enhancements made up to this time. But every building activity has left Mary's pillar in its original location. The current Basilica is huge... and to reach the pillar, believers need to bow and lean into an area cut into other columns to kiss a piece of the original column some 6 centimetres square... but it works... you can watch the peoples' faces after the kiss... they radiate... they glow... they lose their stoop... their wrinkles disappear... their grey hair regains colour... their waist line slims. It's a miracle.

Also on show in the Basilica are two shells that fell on the Basilica during the civil war... but failed to explode. The church hung the shells on the wall showing that the Virgin Mary had protected her Basilica. "It's a miracle", said the church... "It's cheap rubbish from Czechoslovakia", said the local militia. Tomorrow, we will see the Cathedral... how a town of modest size can afford both a Basilica and a Cathedral is beyond me.

The second building also had Roman origins... but was bought to prominence by the constructions made by the Moors during the time they occupied Aragon... starting in the 8th century. The Christians managed to regain the city in 1118...but used the Islamic tradesmen to maintain and extend the fort. The decorations inside the fort are exquisite... light and intricate... and of such a standard that the premier buildings in Seville and Granada copied patterns and techniques developed in Zaragoza. The fort had been abandoned for an extended period. Just recently, the state parliament of Aragon needed a bigger building and decided to use the Palacio de la Aljaferia Cortes de Aragon. The region had done a marvellous job in restoring the fort... uncovering many architectural jewels that had been forgotten.

In our travels in Morocco a few years back we saw some palaces built by the Berbers (who constituted a major part of the Moorish empire). But their home base has few jewels that compare with what they built in Spain. It's a mystery how a people could put in an ordinary performance in governing their own country... yet, be so exciting in the way they governed someone else's country. We have time set aside for southern Spain... so will have an opportunity to see more Moorish architecture.

Gandesa - Spanish Civil War

Today, we have been travelling down the Ebro River... the site of some of the heaviest fighting in the Spanish Civil war... also an important trade route for all the civilisations claiming Aragon as their home.

Our surprise was the number of casualties from battles in the civil war fought around Gandesa... a small country town... undeserving of the cruel fate handed to it by the civil war... its biggest error was to pick the wrong side in this bitter struggle.
Catalonia and Aragon supported the 'Republic' forces. Franco thought the Republic forces had to go because their government was flirting with communism... and he wasn't being cut a reasonable share of the graft and corruption endemic at that time. He (with a number of 'breakaway' generals from the Republican armed forces)... went to Algeria and trained a core of elite troops.. negotiated support from the Nazi regime in Germany and even made a pitch to Mussolini that was successful.
The age of ideology was at its peak... misfits and do-gooders from all over the world came to Spain to support one side or the other. With bigger conflict appearing inevitable on the larger stage of Europe, many powers were keen to test their new age armaments... in particular Hitler wanted real experience of 'blitzkrieg' attack. He gave Franco saturated bombing cover during the War and heavy artillery that proved decisive in the big battles.

Why did Gandesa, Catalonia and Aragon support a corrupt regime? These areas were just starting to benefit from international trade. They had commenced development later than the rest of Spain... they were far enough from Madrid to get a close look at corruption. Along came Franco who wanted to revert to the dark ages... stop trading internationally... give much more authority to the church... make businesses more wealthy... keep women subjugated to men's authority (goodness me, the Republicans were even allowing women to own property... what next??? the vote?) Gandesa et al saw downside in Franco's political manifesto and preferred the devil they knew.

The museum we visited was constructed by families in the village... people who have suffered terribly in the war at the hands of Franco's troops... so, the record of atrocities may not have been balanced. Because Franco turned out to be a 'bad apple', the theme of the museum seemed to be "I told you so '. In the battle for Gandesa, 20,000 lives were lost. The town was abandoned... and what wasn't blown up was looted. The battles showed the locals putting up a good effort... perhaps even winning... until Hitler's airforce arrived and carpet bombed the locals.

After the battles, the locals made a living collecting the metals left behind from the battles... there was loss of life from exploding munitions... but in the years of WWII, scrap metal kept the widows fed... barely... but alive.

Across the whole front of the Ebro River, the number of deaths has been reported to be as high as 100,000 on each side... remarkably high numbers. Like all war reporting, the reliability of numbers needs to be questioned. The total number of deaths for the whole war is recorded as 500,000 with 450,000 being reported as fleeing Spain. It would seem that one fifth of casualties could have occurred in battles in the Ebro area.

Tarragona - Packaged Roman History - So easy to Digest

This morning we left Barcelona still singing its praises. In terms of 'liveability' it must be one of the best cities in the world.

Our next stop down the road was Tarragona... Rome's prime port on the Iberian peninsula... they didn't pick Barcelona... for two reasons... first, Tarragona sits close to a mountain range and had control over a couple of important passes... secondly, the richest gold mine of the Roman Empire, Las Médules, had its ore transported to Tarragona to be shipped to Rome.

Caesar Augusta started the development of Tarragona in 45BC... and it received the trappings given to all important colonies... the theatre... the amphitheatre... the circus... the aqueduct ... the forum... and plenty of straight roads. Tarragona was never planned to be a huge city... so all these trappings of power were located quite centrally... you don't have to walk very far to get from one to the other. Tarragona has marketed this 'proximity' to the full.

Tarragona has a letter that Emperor Hadrian wrote near the end of his life... recounting the happy times he had spent in Tarragona... recalling details of his building program... his political exploits... his pleasure in attending entertainment in the city. His letter goes to great lengths to complement the people of the town for their honesty, generosity and sense of humour... not bad for a city where a citizen attempted to assassinate him. All this was written with such gusto... it seems to have been scripted by a travel agent.

Today they have used this letter as a central argument in promoting the town. We only had 3 hours to spend in town... couldn't escape having to sit through a video re-enacting Hadrian's letter writing... but came away agreeing with all the points Hadrian had made. Other cities have bigger buildings... but none has all the Roman icons built in such proximity and remaining in such good condition.

Tarragona... another Spanish town to put on your travel itinerary.

Barcelona - Gaudí - Genius or Lunatic

Today again was spent searching out buildings that display the works of Gaudí. He graduated in architecture from Barcelona university 1878. At his graduation, the Dean said, "I don't know what we are graduating here today... is it a genius of a lunatic?" Looking at the domestic houses that Gaudí designed... I'm still not sure that question can be answered with certainty.

Gaudí became obsessed with chains and gravity. If you hang a chain from two points, the chain takes the shape of a hyperbola... but not a parabola. As you know, all the churches built up to the 1900's had vaulted ceilings in the arc of a parabola. Quite rightly, Gaudí thought such confusion acted against nature's law handed down by God. He designed only in hyperbola... hanging his chains upside down, building clay models around the chains and presenting the models to the builders... never any drawn plans. The mathematics of hyperbolas are much more complicated than parabolas... finding the points of weakness... using materials with the required strength at the important intersections... all without computers. Historians have been perplexed... how did Gaudí get his arithmetic so right... until some genius discovered why Gaudí had all these boards and chains stacked in his cupboard.

The strange shape of Gaudí's buildings catches the eye... but his fascination with hyperbola also allowed him to work with lighter materials... have more (and bigger) windows and have bigger (higher) arches. His hyperbola could allow more non-weight bearing walls... so, in his apartments, walls could be knocked down and replaced to suit the client.

Based around his understanding of hyperbola, he built an aura of omnipotence... clients would not just ask him to design their building... they would say, "build whatever you like... at whatever cost you like... I just want a Gaudí building". He had license to experiment... fail... and reinvent... rarely given to artists and architects.

Gaudí entered Barcelona at the start of a protracted boom period... when the industrial revolution generated undreamed of wealth. In 1859, the medieval walls of the city were demolished to allow further growth. The city council presented a plan of road grids to be used in future growth. An economic boom gain a full head of steam... industrialists convinced of their own cleverness... seeing a never-ending stream of prosperity being their God given entitlement (a bit like today really). All needed buildings to display their high position in society... and who better to display their status than the genius of Gaudí.

We spent an hour going through the La Pedrera building that Gaudí built at the height of his career. (La Pedrera was the name given to the building by the neighbours because of the external appearance resembling a quarry.) We needed an hour to see all the architectural and artistic features Gaudí designed into the building. Electricity, gas and water were just beginning to be connected to domestic residences... and clear thinking was needed to see how these features should be positioned. Gaudí got it right! He designed the tiles... the furniture... even the handrails in the stairwell... he might have been a control freak as well. We were impressed by the effort he put into designing the chimneys on the roof. He included swirls in the design for artistic effect... for better draft... for better rain protection. Why don't all chimneys have swirls?

He was still working at a prodigious pace when he stepped in front of a tram while walking to a construction site. The industrial revolution that funded his building dreams was (in the end) his undoing.

Barcelona - Sagrada Familia - My Clients are in no Hurry

Here's a way to fund the building of a cathedral... have tourists queue up hour after hour... day after day... year after year... century after century... sell them tickets to look at what you've built so far... and use the proceeds to pay for next year's building. On the side you can ask for donations from any friendly person wanting to grant you a million or two.

That's not the financial planning you expect from the Catholic Church building a magnificent cathedral (perhaps political parties... but not the church)... but that is how Sagrada Familia is being built. The driving force behind this unique building was Antoni Gaudí... who has laid down building themes and techniques that succeeding architects have followed. The poor bloke got run over by a tram... just after a fire destroyed a lot of his drawings. Barcelona council would complain to him about slow process with the building. "My Clients are not concerned about any finishing date", was his reply. He needn't have worried about finances today... the queues of visitors were longer than St Peters Basilica... and the entry prices were higher... and the outcome was more satisfying.

Just say you were building the world's best Basilica... how would you go about it? Now I know a few of you have not been keeping up to date with your religious studies in the last year... you may need a second to answer that question. So, let me give you a hand... you would make the interior of the church look like a forest, right? You would design all the interior columns to look like tree trunks... branching high to support the ceiling... decorated to look like leaves... right.

The next question is a little more difficult... what religious icons would you use to decorate your church? Some smarty-pants may say "None... none at all"... and you would be just about right. Antoni Gaudí had kept the interior of his Basilica clear of all religious icons... except for one crucifix suspended from the ceiling down one end... the building committee wanted the building consecrated as a Basilica... so some accommodation needed to be made with Rome. Walk into St Peters in Rome... and it's like walking into the back yard of Steptoe and Son... by comparison, walking into Sagrada Familia... you feel space... quiet... solitude... relaxed... refreshed.

What would you do with the external appearance of the Basilica? Antoni Gaudí had four separate themes... one for each side. He built the Nativity eastern side of the Basilica to tell the Nativity story the way he thought it should be told. There are angels, sheep, wise men, shephards.. you name it... they're all there... all in the right place so that the good citizens of Barcelona are in no doubt about how to interpret the meaning of the birth of Jesus. The western side of the exterior has been completed... by a different architect and sculptor... telling the Passion theme... the stations of the cross... the story of Jesus' suffering... all chiselled in a cold chunky style... reflecting the supreme sacrifice made on the cross.

Only 60% of construction has been completed... can't tell you what awaits us on the north and south sides. Everyone hopes that the Basilica will be completed by the 100th anniversary of Antoni Gaudí's death in 2024. In many ways it doesn't really matter if the building is never finished... part of its mystery is the suspense of what will appear next. You look up at the workmen and know there are still some budding Michelangelos chipping some stones... creating beauty.

Barcelona - National Catalonia Day

We all enjoy colour music and dance... particularly when it is a national celebration. Today we saw half-million Barcelona citizens celebrating the loss of their nationhood that occurred exactly 300 years ago... to the day.

Just like Australia, Barcelona prefers to celebrate defeats rather than victories... and like our Anzac experience the loss was not their fault. At Anzac, we had to contend with military leaders with no military skill... for Barcelona and Catalonia, it was much worse... they had to contend with an outbreak of 'peace' within Europe. How's this for bad luck? In early 1713, Barcelona had held at bay the Franco - Spanish invading army for months... true, the population was dying of starvation... they were completely isolated... but they hadn't given in. Then in a matter of 3 months, France concluded 3 other wars it had going. Britain and the Dutch Republic reached a peace agreement to end the war with France on 11 April 1713, Treaty of Utrecht... Austria reached a peace agreement to end the war with France on 7 March 1714, Treaty of Rastatt... The Holy Roman Empire reached a peace agreement to end the war with France on 7 September 1714, Treaty of Baden. Suddenly, France had 20,000 troops at a loose end... with nothing better going, France sent them to Barcelona to end the siege. Barcelona put up a tremendous effort... suffered terribly... but in the end couldn't hold on. So, on that basis, Barcelona now holds an annual party... dance and sing... and talk about how one day they will rise again to regain their freedom... "we will run with the buffalo or die." The police force watch this posturing each year and don't know what to make of it... nothing has happened for 300 years... but this year could be for real. All police were on overtime today... in full riot gear... heavy duty vehicles on the street. But today the 'nut cases' stayed at home... party people filled the streets... singing, cheering, dressing up... no visible alcohol on the streets... a great party mood.

My only concern was the organisation of the project for the day. The goal was to have people hold hands in a continuous line stretching along the Catalonian coast from the French border to the place where Catalonia joins the next Spanish region. That's a lot of hands... a lot of people. They bused in pretty teenagers from outlying villages... wearing their authentic folk costumes... a boy and a girl from each village. These teenagers looked so pretty/handsome. Many had badges, attached to their clothes, identifying the leading families in the village that they represented. They were excited and keen to talk about their experience... a condition Joye exploited to the full. There were so many people in full Catalonia colours, wanting to join the hand holding line, they were falling over each other. I was worried that someone picked to hold hands on the sea cliff above the Costa Brava beaches might have to pull out and the vacant spot may break the circuit... and the kindness and goodwill emanating from Barcelona may not be shared across the whole region.

At 17:14 pm, with the sky full with helicopters... with riot police holding their breath, the 300th Anniversary of the loss of nationhood came and went. The continuous line of held hands were raised to the heavens... and the Catalonian anthem was sung with appropriate reverence. Everyone kissed whoever was within arm's reach... they packed up their flags and moved off to join the parade.

We never did hear if the line of held hands completed its circuit. I'd like to think it did... wouldn't you?

Barcelona - different - very different

Tonight we are in Barcelona... capital of Catalonia... second biggest city in Spain... but most important of all, it is the capital of weirdness in Spain... perhaps in the world.

We took the winding coast road from Perpignan... first to the lovely seaside village of Collioure... where the local feudal lord built his fort right on the water's edge of a beautiful harbour. The amount of brick in the fort probably exceeds all the bricks used in the rest of the village combined.

The drive down the coast was beautiful but slow... each little Bay seemed to have its own village surrounded by steep hills... grape vines decorated the hillsides... rocky outcrops giving a sense of why pirates used to love this coastline.

Our focus was on Barcelona... a city that has made itself a haven for every discontent and weirdo since time immemorial... especially weirdos from the architectural fraternity.

Barcelona started as a small Roman village... noted for its natural beauty rather than its potential to generate wealth. The Middle Ages was a difficult period for Barcelona... trying to stay independent of its larger and more powerful neighbours. The Catalonians don't look to compromise as their first solution to any conflict... they had their own language... minted their own coins... what could Spain or Aragon offer Barcelona that they didn't have already? Eventually, greater Spain emerged and Barcelona accepted its role of Number Two city. From time to time, laws have been passed forbidding Catalonians to speak their native tongue... but the language has survived. Barcelona was a centre for resistance against the Franco regime... a big battle occurred in 1939 that saw Barcelona invaded and a large number of citizens fleeing into the countryside. Tomorrow, is a public holiday in Catalonia to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the Siege of Barcelona that they lost (in 1714) after 14 months of resistance... and will give an opportunity to those citizens seeking independence of Catalonia from Spain... (never say die... never compromise) an opportunity to raise their voices.... you have to love it. Even Catalonians in London are joining their voices to the cause... I hope Sydney can forget about how boring democratic elections can be... and join in with Barcelona... to remember the high price paid in other parts of the world for democratic rights.

In recent years Barcelona has nurtured architects with (over vivid) imaginations. Particularly renowned are the works of Antoni Gaudí and Lluìs Doménech i Montaner. We haven't had time yet to see their buildings... but the pictures show constructions that have remained unfinished after a decade or more of construction... buildings that have very limited functional use, but have cost the city tens of millions to build. There appears to be few other cities around the world willing to be so indulgent towards their artists.

Probably because it's different, people flock to Barcelona... they love the place. It is the largest city on the Mediterranean and the fastest growing city in Spain. Perhaps, if Sydney... and other major cities of the world... stopped being so scared of being different... be prepared to be seen as a little crazy... the world would be more colourful... more enjoyable... and more accepting of people who look and behave a bit differently.

Perpignan - Regional and International Empires

It is easy to carry on at length about the grandeur of the Roman Empire... but history keeps throwing up the comparisons with every new town we visit. I'm not singling out Perpignan for special criticism. Their place in history shows they did a lot of things right at a regional level. But it seems so petty and small minded when you consider how Romans sorted out similar problems three hundred years earlier.

Roman strategy was not consumed with defence. On entering new territory they went looking for a fight with the leading power in the region. They then stood back and said to the other regional powers, "We know how to fight... we have shown that by taking out your main power... but if any of the rest of you wants to have a go... step up at any time and we'll sort you out... but mark my words.... you'll pay a high price for the experience." Rome then started to build infrastructure and trade to expand the local economy. They positioned their centres of government where trade would be most intense... they didn't find the biggest mountain and hide their centre in inaccessible positions. Sure, they built small walls around their centres... sufficient to eliminate small scale terrorist attaches... hit and run crime... but for the risks of big battles... they were prepared to be tested in open battle.

Today we visited the forts at Perpignan and Castelnou... both military centres of importance at the sub-regional level... who were put into the backwater of history by later national consolidations... as France and Spain sorted out their borders. When reading the history and viewing the amount of resources invested into building defensive positions... it quickly becomes apparent that the Feudal system was designed to promote conflict... to promote betrayal and promote a miserable life for the working man. The local Lordships may have gained immense amusement from directing battles from the safety of nearby hills... and racing back to their impregnable fort if things went wrong. And if the local Lordship won a battle... what did he have to contribute to the life of the conquered citizen? Typically, he had no new markets or technology to provide. He had no grand vision of how society could be better organised... he just had a bigger tax base from which he could buy a bigger army. No wonder the middle ages were the dark ages.

Even to this day, Provence shows advantages of Roman rule that poor old Perpignan and its region missed out on. It would be interesting to know the comparative incomes of each period during the middle ages. I bet Provence incomes would have been much higher!

Perpignan - a Cultural Mix

Here's a theory... a country's social ills are more concentrated in towns near borders... where citizens wanting to escape authorities in one jurisdiction can quickly jump across the border causing bureaucratic delays for authorities wanting to pursue them. (This is not an original theory... I think the Count of Monte Christo may have applied it a little while ago.)

Tonight, we are in Perpignan... practically on the border between France and Spain... with many people of Arab and Romany origins. We have noticed that since entering France at the Swiss border, the proportion of people looking like they need help has increased as we have progressed towards the coast... and as we have progressed towards the Spanish border. Practically the first two people we talked to in Perpignan gave us advice on how to organise better defence against street crime. On the street are teenagers who seem to have time on their hands... being Sunday, they were probably hanging around waiting for the next Church service. Still, it's a great opportunity to try some Arabic coffee and north African food.

We drove from Carcassonne, 120 klms through some foothills and gorges of the Pyrenees... beautiful country... every square foot of fertile soil being planted with grape vines. The bunches of grapes are looking ripe and heavy... the leaves on the vine have lost their summer glow and now reflect the early shades of autumn. Harvesting must start soon. These valleys were the stronghold of the Cathar religion... the one that brought Carcassonne so much grief. We saw Cathar monastery ruins... but could not find museums providing more details of this interesting historic religion. 

We have noticed that the number of tourists has reduced... perhaps we are speaking too soon... Barcelona awaits. Today, there was very little cause for road rage... hardly a bicycle in site... and we were not queued behind a mobile home at any time. It's too soon for them to disappear... the daily maximum is still in excess of 25... and the nights are still warm. Perhaps they are all heading south... let's hope so.

Carcassonne - A Day Off

Today, we had time out... no tourist venue visited... no maps... no photos. We had the Australian Federal Election to entertain us... entertainment of sorts. The world today is small. Through the internet, we were able to watch and listen without any shortage of information... it was just as anaesthetising and painful as it would have been standing in the tally room.

Our highlight was walking through Carcassonne's new city to the Saturday markets. All the locals were out... hardly room for the few tourists. The fresh-food market showed the care and attention the French pay to food selection... handling cabbages with as much delicacy as if they were hand-grenades... smelling tomatoes as if they were roses... squeezing peaches with a lover's touch. Some stands were manned by the growers... offering giant piles of carrots... a pile of dried broad beans attracted a crowd. Again, today, we saw an unusual number of men who looked to have abused drugs. The latest tactics is for such men to have a couple of Alsatian dogs on leads... possibly to aid in escaping from law enforcement... perhaps to provide some protection while sleeping.

The other market offered clothes and nick-nacks . Its interesting feature was the number of ethnic North African French citizens in attendance... some 80% of the total. The merchants catered for the North Africans... shops downtown don't feature the latest fashion colours in saris... the latest cut in slippers. Ethnic integration looks in good shape... Afro-French look very comfortable... cool... laid-back. They seem well liked by 'white' French... sprinkled throughout friendship groups... not isolated into enclaves. The North African (Islamic) men don't stand out... they seem to to mix in the general community. That leaves the North African ladies... who still look to be finding their way. The younger girls are OK... they are in rebellion... as all teenagers should. But the older ladies move in groups... looking different... looking awkward.

Two days ago, we visited the local war museum. Its current feature focussed on African soldiers (mainly from Senegal) who contributed to the Allied forces during WWII. We were targeted by an attendant who gave us 45 minutes of his time and a life of his wisdom. The central message this guy wanted to share was that France was late in building its empire... and by that time the Brits had taken all the profitable colonial sites. He said that France invested far more in its colonies than they received back in imports. France found that French citizens didn't want to migrate to the colonies... plenty of food in France... unlike Britain and Ireland. France had missionary goals in their colonial strategy. He said that they did not 'rule' their colonies with any class segmentation. They gave indigenous people senior positions in the administration and armed forces right from their arrival. Our attendant implied that racial intolerance in France didn't exist... only the difficulties of migrating to a different culture. We have been watching the interactions between the French to see if our attendant had read history accurately.

We have had rain this afternoon... the first for a month... only a light drizzle.

Canal du Midi - Languidity at Last

Today's activity was bike riding along the banks of the Canal du Midi. Picture a horse pulling a barge loaded with wheat along a canal that joins the Atlantic and Mediterranean... with hundreds of locks... and massive volumes of water fed into the canal from the Montagne Noire (Black Mountains) at its highest point. To stabilise the banks, Plane trees were planted along its banks... providing pleasant shade for horses, barge drivers... providing a quiet carpet of leaves to soften the horse's step... and now, tourists on bikes. But it was the burgeoning wheat trade in 1666 that persuaded Louis XIV to make the investment.

I have been told by friends of their idyllic holidays aboard a barge... puttering along shady canals... stepping off to ride a bike to an ancient village close by... reaching out and picking grapes overhanging the canal... sharing the vino with peasants exhausted from their morning work... taking their lunch in the shade along the canal. We saw glimpses of the idealised canal holiday. The photo below shows a launch squeezing under a bridge featured with red and white petunias... red geraniums cascading over the edge. That part is real. So is the queuing at the locks... waiting your turn to be lifted the 2 metres up/down the stream... and then eating the diesel fumes from the lead boat as you join the convoy to the next lock. We spoke to the canal people... they are always up for a chat... nothing else to do while you wait those hours in the queue. They said they tried waiting until the convoy got ahead so they could have serenity during their canal passage. "The problem is that the next convoy catches up unless you maintain speed." They complained about the congestion... but said they would do it again. The speed of the barges was less than our bikes... something like 12 klms per hour.

Then there is the issue of job allocation when traversing a lock. First, there's the captain... he has to stand at the wheel and watch while everyone else does the real jobs. Now the Captain is always a 'bloke'... no matter how physically disabled the crew that jumps off-board to fasten ropes... the captain has strict requirements regarding his gender. Indeed, we did see one 80 year lady... walking stick in hand stumble onto the bank to fasten ropes while the 80 year old (male) captain managed the controls. The experienced barge crew made it look so easy... one person doing all the jobs... while the amateur crew increased the confusion with larger numbers of helpers.

The locks caught the imagination... such a simple way of lifting extreme weights. Also surprising was to see the canal keeping its height across a gully while the gully stream runs under it.

Today, we did have moments of languidity... not a sound to be heard... other than the bike wheels crunching the autumn leaves... no barges... no one else... sun filtering through the plane trees... the slow current ambling along. Yes, we discovered some languidity... it has to be taken in small doses... it has to be held on the tongue... savoured... while being distracted by nothing.