Big (and not so big) Bucks

Outdoor photography has a lot of therapeutic benefits.  For me there is an instant well-being that I can feel the second I go outside. And then to be searching for the beauty in nature, whether that be in a landscape or a wild animal . . . that brings a gratitude that is not only good for the body, but also for the soul.

 

Although I've got a long ways to go when it comes to editing, there is therapeutic benefit in that, also.  It is relaxing, a bit repetitive,  doesn't take a lot of thinking, but it has a way of soothing the mind. And when you can turn a mediocre image into a masterpiece, well, that's quite satisfying. 

The following photographs have been collected over the past couple years.  It's amazing how many big bucks you can see when you're not hunting them. It also helps if you seek them out during the rut. Hope you enjoy!

 

The Beautiful City of Girona

[Author's note: There are so many places, past and present, that I want to write about. The list is so long that some locations get neglected for years after my visit. That is the case for Girona. I went there in 2018 and am just now writing about it. Luckily, I have used many photos and journal entries and in my mind it feels as if it were yesterday.] 

The ride was only 38 minutes in train from Barcelona. Our hotel, the Hotel Condal, is very nice. We have a great view from the sixth floor where we can look over the city and see the tower of the cathedral. 

We find a grocery store and buy enough food to satisfy us for lunch and dinner. Across the street we buy a bar of bread from a panadería. Then we sit on a bench in a park and eat. We tear the bread into sections, then top it with chorizo, xató sauce and goat cheese. We chase it down with liquid yogurt. For dessert we eat Bollycaos, basically a hot dog bun with Nutella. How good it feels to be in Girona! 

I haven't been back in nearly 20 years. 

Basilica of Sant Feliu (left) and Cathedral of Santa Maria of Girona (right).

Girona is one of my favorite cities in all of Spain. It's colorful buildings along the river, the narrow streets and dominating cathedral make for a beautiful city. I am here with my daughter, Kaitlyn, anxious to show her a slice of heaven where I used to live. 

Girona is in the heart of Catalonia, an autonomous region in northern Spain that speaks its own language and has its own culture. Currently there is a strong movement among the Catalan people to break from Spain and be their own country. The Catalan Independence movement has been the impetus for protests and riots during the last year. One of the first things I noticed upon arriving in Girona were the large amount of flags, yellow ribbons and other symbols of the separatist movement. 

A view from the gardens of the cathedral.

We cross the River Onyar and enter the medieval section of Girona. We walk down the Rambla de la Llibertat where the street now becomes a pedestrian walkway. Stores with high-end designer clothing, pastry shops, and ice cream booths all dot the path. It all looks exactly how I remember it. 

The closer we get to the cathedral, the narrower the streets. Under our feet the cobblestones take on a steeper grade as we move uphill. Our final ascent to the Gothic cathedral includes climbing 89 steep steps. It is humbling to think that royalty for over a thousand years climbed these same stairs. 

Narrow street near cathedral.

Staircase leading to the Cathedral of Girona.

The Catedral de Santa Maria de Girona is the jewel of the city. I remember the last time I was here and we arrived just after dusk on a train from France. As we rolled into view of the city, the cathedral sat in all it's majesty on the hillside, glowing like a beacon. It gave me tingles. 

Like many of the cathedrals in Europe, it has a layered past. Once a primitive Christian church, it was conquered by the Muslims in 717 A.D. and converted into a mosque. Seventy years later the city was recaptured by Charlemagne. The church was restored in subsequent centuries and eventually a cloister and bell tower were added. In 1416 the church was redesigned and a large Gothic nave—the second largest in the world—was added. 

In spite of a few stained-glass windows, the cathedral is very dark inside. 

As with other cathedrals, there are many people buried under the floor and in the walls. Among them is Ramón Berenguer II, my direct ancestor. His stone sepulcher sits atop an archway in the nave for all to see. A detailed carving of the count lies atop the sepulcher. His grandmother, Ermesenda of Carcassonne, is buried in a chapel on the other side of the church. The cloister is also full of several tombs. Given that I love cemeteries, this is a wonderful place for me. I get a historical building and graveyard all in one visit! 

Tomb of Ramon Berenguer II in Girona Cathedral.

Several tombs in cloister of cathedral.

It is interesting how most Catholic cathedrals are just secular displays of history. Yes, when they were built they were given a lot of symbolism that told stories from the bible and their own history. But that teaching element is gone, at least for those who flock here now. There are many different chapels honoring many different people—including Jesus, Mary and many Saints. But there are so many that it becomes confusing as to what is the focus. The focus of the cathedral today is the architecture, the history, the majesty. 

When it rains, immense amounts of water fall on the roof of the cathedral that would saturate it if it were not diverted. In Gothic cathedrals there are systems of stone canals that collect the water and drain it through a creatively carved sculptures called gargoyles. 

On the Cathedral of Girona, all the gargoyles are of a decorative nature, or that of a monster or animal. That is, all except one. Near the Tower of Charlemagne is a sculpture of a witch. She wears a long vestment and bonnet covering her hair. In her hands she holds a scroll and parchment. Her mouth is eternally open to eschew the rain-water. 

According to legend she was a woman dedicated to the diabolical art of witchery, who, to display her hate of religion, would cast rocks at the cathedral. One day, by divine work, the witch was turned into stone and placed on the highest part of the church. She was placed face-down, perpetually looking at the ground, so she could never cast another spell. 

The witch of the Cathedral.

After visiting the cathedral, we take a walk on the old Roman walls. Built as a defense for the city, the walls were constructed in the first century A.D. and then reconstructed in the fourteen century. Today, half the circuit still remains, and has been fortified so that people can walk on top. 

The views from the Roman walls are probably the best in all the town. The cathedral dominates the horizon and the bell tower of the Basilica of Sant Feliu protrudes just below. Red-tiled rooftops spread across the landscape. There is a clear line of demarcation where the old city ends and the new begins.

Old Roman Wall that surrounds the city.

A view of the city from the wall shows the divide between the old city (in foreground),and the new section.

We enter through one of the towers near the cathedral and follow it to its end near the River Onyar. It is a peaceful walk and gives a unique perspective of the city and its history. 

After a brief stop at our hotel, we return to the street at dusk, just in time to observe the evening paseo. This is a marvelous scene that unfolds across Spain every night. Couples, families and friends dress up and go on walks. Fathers push strollers and lovers hold hands. 

We buy some ice cream and sit on a bench while watching pedestrians. We observe that there are big differences comparing Girona to Barcelona. There are fewer tourists and immigrants here. More Catalan is spoken and they dress more conservatively. 

Here there are Catalan flags draped everywhere, as well as yellow ribbons. The ribbons are in memory of the recent political prisoners in the fight for separation. The Catalan flags with a star represent Catalan Independence. 

Plaça del Vi.

A fresh food market in Girona.

The next day we are at it again, this time with a full day to explore the city. We go to a food market for breakfast. I buy a large rectangular croissant with chocolate filling. Kaitlyn buys a drinkable yogurt from the grocery store. 

There is a street market selling sunglasses for as much as 100 €!

We cross the River Onyar via the Pont de les Peixateries, a red metal bridge built by Gustav Eiffel before he built the Eiffel Tower. On both sides of the river are beautiful pastel-painted buildings, their reflections shimmering in the water. In the distance the cathedral towers above everything else. 

The River Onyar.

Our first stop is the Jewish Quarter, affectionately referred to as El Call. One of these days I will write more extensively on the Jews and their history in Spain. Suffice to say here that they lived in their own neighborhood, were very educated, and were eventually driven out with the Spanish Inquisition. 

El Call has some of the narrowest streets in all of Girona. It is a fascinating place to be. Woven into these narrow alleyways are meandering staircases and hidden archways. 

There is an interesting museum with a star of David on the patio. Of interest to me were some of the old headstones with Hebrew inscriptions that had been removed from the cemetery. 

A narrow alleyway in the Jewish Quarter.

The Jewish Quarter is known as El Call.

After lunch we stop at an archeological museum housed in a former convent. They have several Roman tombs, which I think are very fascinating. They also display artifacts from all the major eras, including the Bronze Age. 

Sant Pere de Galligants, an archeological museum in an old monastery.

On our next destination we come upon a rally for Catalan Independence. This is located on a small side-street and if you didn't happen upon it, you'd never know it was there. Most of the participants are young, but there is support from all ages. 

One speaker pontificates with energy the fight against Spanish injustice. This whole town is united in their battle against the State. There are signs everywhere denouncing political prisoners. Catalan flags of independence drape from the balconies. Old men wear yellow ribbons on their lapels. 

Candid shot during the street rally.

Symbols of Catalan separatism drape the balconies.

By now, evening is arriving again. We have spent plenty of time in the historical tourist section, but now we make our way over the bridge and into the newer section of the city where everyday people call their home. 

On the Pont de les Peixateries.

We come to Devesa Park, a large woodland with massive trees, alongside the River Ter. As a pleasant surprise, we come across several games of petanca. You know you're with the locals when you find a petanca match. 

Petanca is the Spanish and French version of horseshoes. I've never played it, but I understand the gist. A small ball called a boliche is tossed onto the court, and then the objective is to get as close as you can with your own bigger metallic ball called a bola. Spaniards are pretty good at this game. They can get pretty close and often they will knock another players bola out of range. 

It appears as if it is a league night. Each team is wearing matching shirts. A man stands inside a red hoop that is placed on the ground. With his bola in his right hand, he holds it palm-down and bends his knees slightly as his gaze is fixed upon the boliche on the other side of the court. Then, with the finesse of a dancer, he tosses the ball and it lands within inches of the boliche. 

Petanca in Devesa Park.

We continue our walk through the park. Tall trees tower over us, creating a canopy of branches. On the other end of the wooded park is a music festival. As we get closer we can hear the rhythm of flamenco and pop music. 

We quickly join a lively crowd that is dancing to the music. On stage are the performers, the lead singer dressed like a gipsy. Families are there: mothers, fathers, kids of all ages. The beat is catchy. Fathers are dancing with sons and mothers are moving to the beat with babies in their arms. 

The atmosphere is fun, but we soon learn that this is the final song of the night. We are disappointed, but grateful to have at least seen part of it. 

This is our final evening on the streets of Girona. Tomorrow will be our last day, but will be spending it with friends. 

Panorama of Girona from the Roman Walls.

One of the many legends coming out of Girona is that of the flies of Saint Narcís. 

During a siege in the year 1286, the French attacked Girona and ransacked many of the churches. In the church of St. Feliu, they tore open the tomb of Saint Narcís, hoping to desecrate his body. To their surprise, out of the tomb flew thousands of large flies. The insects began to furiously attack the French soldiers, forcing them to retreat back to their own country, thus saving the city. 

In two days, we go to France, also. But I doubt we'll be chased by flies. ♠

The River Onyar at night from the Pont de Pedra.

 

Human Towers of Catalonia

A crowd gathers in the Plaza of Fort Pienc in Barcelona. Most are wearing white trousers, with a blue shirt and black sash fastened around the waist to support their back. Six strong and burly men come together to form the base of the tower. Behind them a throng of supporters lean into the men, adding strength to the base. This bulk of people is called the pinya. They support an amazing amount of weight. 

Now the tower begins. 

On three or four sides of the pinya there is a line of people waiting their turn to go up. The second level now begins to climb. They too are strong men. Someone kneels on the outer edge of the pinya, with one leg placed so the men climbing can use it as a step. They step on the thigh, then climb onto the backs of the pinya. At last, they stand on the shoulders of the six burly men, and clasp arms. Their bare feet feel for balance. Their collars turn upward and they bite down on the corners. This has a dual purpose: to keep their shirts from sliding when someone steps on their shoulders, and to ease or divert the pain of holding so much weight. 

Team members climb into position to build the tower.

Now, the second level is complete. Three players begin to play a tune on a gralla and tabal, a traditional Catalonian wind instrument and drum. 

A third and fourth level now begins to assemble. Each person steps across the pinya and climbs up the trunk. They grasp onto shoulders, thighs, heads, hips and use their bare feet to find any possible nook to plant their step. They dig toes, finding a foot-hold, into the black sashes. With each succeeding layer, the climbers become lighter. 

It is unnerving to watch them ascend, knowing the distance of the fall should they collapse. As they climb they cling tightly to the body they are using as a ladder. Sometimes they struggle at the final heights, having to regroup strength. Each level is braced in concentration, shaking and wobbling from the excruciating weight. 

Each level is braced in concentration, shaking and wobbling from the excruciating weight.

A throng of supporters lean into the pinya.

The tower is now six levels high. The very highest levels consist of mere children. But these are no ordinary kids. They have courage that would soar much higher than that of most adults. 

Two boys climb to the very top and clasp arms. Another, called the aixecador, climbs atop them and squats, with one foot on each of the boys. 

Then comes the enxaneta, or rider. She is the crown of the tower. With agility and courage that would make anyone jealous, she climbs atop the aixecador and raises her hand. The tower is complete! The crowd bursts into applause. 

A tower nears completion.

The aixecador raises her hand, signaling completion of the tower.

Now all is left is to dissemble the tower. Sometimes this is the most dangerous part. Level by level, the team slides down the tower as if they were slithering down a pole. When the last person is down and the pinya broken apart, the gralla and tabal stop the music. Mission accomplished! They congratulate one another, patting on the shoulder and giving hugs. 

I first learned of the Castellers in December 1992 while living in Reus, Spain. My friend knew a family who was part of a colla, or team. We watched them rehearse one evening inside an old building—one with a high ceiling. 

The following week we watched them compete in Cambrils, a town just a short distance away by bus. Their team name was the Xiquets de Reus, and they performed in the town plaza, wearing traditional garb of white trousers, black sashes and tan-colored shirts. I watched them build towers that appeared taller than those constructed during the rehearsal. I was impressed. I remember the plaza being crowded with people, and onlookers standing on the balconies of the apartment buildings surrounding the plaza. 

The gralla and tabal are played during the tower's construction.

That evening we ate dinner with the family and I recall sitting down at the table with the brother, who was strong and burly and stood as part of the pinya during the competition. 

Since then I have continued to be obsessed with these human towers. It is a cultural tradition that is unique to Catalonia, Spain. I have seen it nowhere else in the world. 

Every city, and in some cases, every neighborhood has its own colla. Throughout the summer and at festivals they will hold their competitions in various locations. Two or three teams will display their talent and courage by making the tallest or largest tower. 

A human tower in Barcelona.

I have come to Barcelona this summer with my daughter, Kaitlyn. I purposely sought out two different competitions. This was the first true competition I have witnessed since 1992. 

We walk eight blocks from the Sagrada Familia (brimming and chaotic with tourists) to the Plaça del Fort Pienc, a modern square full of people, but no tourists. What a refreshing sight! We have time to stop in Mercadona and buy a treat. 

It is fascinating to mingle with the teams and supporters and observe their preparations. They wear uniforms consisting of white pants and a team-colored shirt, usually in long sleeves rolled up past their elbows. I witness several members, including women, change into their shirts right there in the plaza. Several wear bandanas over their head, usually a team-styled bandana. 

Sashes help provide back support.

Fun times hanging out before competition.

They tightly wrap a long black faja, or sash, about a foot and a half wide, around their waist and back. One person holds the loose end while the one putting it on slowly rotates like a spool until it is firmly around his waist and tucked in. This acts as a back brace. Sometimes they use one or two bandanas to keep it secure. 

Members of all sizes mingle around, from large and husky men to young girls who wear helmets and chase around their friends. We mingle with members of Sant Cugat, who support their team with a table selling t-shirts, bandanas and bookmarks. 

The time to build the first tower has now arrived. A crowd now gathers to form the pinya. Onlookers like myself stand and observe, some taking pictures. Even the youngest are moving into position. Two girls, nearly eight years old, get carried piggy-back style to the edge of the pinya where they will soon walk on top of shoulders and climb up the tower. 

Young girls wait their turn to climb the tower.

The first level is made, then the second, and then comes the music to serenade levels three, four, five, six and seven. Making it look easy, the aixecador summits the tower and raises her hand. Then they dissemble, level by level, and meet an enthusiastic applause from the crowd. 

We watch this process over and over. The three teams take turns, and with each turn make their own unique tower. There appears to be no rivalry, and I don't even know how this competition is “tallied.”

When we leave I know that I have witnessed a truly local event, steeped in culture. 

Statue honoring castellers in Tarragona, Spain.

The castell is a cultural icon of Catalonia. It can be viewed as a symbol of Catalan nationalism. It brings a sense of pride and helps unite a people who are growing weary of the Spanish government and have created their own separatist movement. 

The human towers likely have their origin in the muixeranga of Algemesi, in the province of Valencia. This was a religious festival that built towers to honor the “Mother of God of Health,” also known as the Virgin Mary. 

Human tower in Esplugues, a suburb of Barcelona.

The first recorded instance of human towers in Catalonia comes from the city of Valls, just north of Tarragona. First documented in 1712, it soon spread to other surrounding areas. By the early 1800's groups were being formed in the area around Tarragona. 

During the International Exhibition of 1929 in Barcelona, the first castells were built using the current attire of colored shirts, white pants, sashes and bandanas. 

Following the repression of the Franco years, Catalan nationalism has made a resurgence, along with the castell. 

The pinya.

Building a tower takes large levels of concentration.

The higher the levels, the younger the children.

The following day, Kaitlyn and I gear up for our second round of human towers. It is Sunday, and we are lucky because there happens to be a competition near the church we will be attending. 

We take the blue metro line to Esplugues, and after attending church we wander out and find a wide promenade lined with trees. A large crowd has gathered and a team of castellers are gathering to begin a tower. There are three groups competing here. I notice an ambulance parked here just in case of a fall. We watch from an elevated structure for a better view. 

These single towers are called pillars.

For an hour we joyfully watch the towers being built. Each one is unique. On one of them a tower is built inside a tower. After the outer “shell” is complete, it is disassembled, leaving a single column that was simultaneously built within, but hidden from our view. 

We are very satisfied by the time we leave. 

Most people who come to Barcelona spend their time touring the Sagrada Familia, Parc Güell and the beach. But we are in Esplugues surrounded by no tourists, watching local people do what they've done for centuries. 

This is the true Catalonia. ♠