Our Daily Bread

I guess that as my return date is quickly nearing, I have been slacking more so on communicating with y’all, and I’m beginning to wonder if my blog will come to an end. While I still am unsure of what, where and when my place will be in the near future, I still have to make some decisions, like: should I take the plane ride home?...home? I don’t know where that is now, I’m torn. But Marin is out of the question, as it is still too costly without a significant salary. But after so many years in such a beautiful area, it’s heartbreaking, however if nothing else, this past year has helped me realize, I can be here too, my old, old friendships are very strong, caring and helpful.

This is not to say that “shit happens” here too; I know I’ve only given you good, fun stuff, that there is plenty of, but there have been bumps along the way, finding a place to park my bags was not fun, I wanted to jump back on the plane when I was less than a week in, and that happened at least two more times since. I gave up completely on developing any kind of friendship with my (ex)husband, when I realized he was not the person I once knew, and has yet cared to communicate with me.I’ve also had some physical problems, stomach flu in March, flu in July, and recently a swollen molar, which I have not yet had time to check on because till just last week I was immobilized with serious lower back pain, that the physical therapist informed me that was the psoas muscle, and was caused by my three day bike trip. Apparently, if you don’t usually ride your bike, you’re supposed to take it on gradually and not go 3 intense full days. 

To resume, unless something (a great job) changes, the plan is to come right back for another year and give my new idea a chance. With this in mind, I will leave Wilbur here, visit friends and Dr Cory, go spend a couple of weeks in Tahoe with Jordi, and a few days in Squamish with Mom. And make the decision whether or not to sell my Smart car.

Are you wondering what “my new idea” is? Some of you may already know; while driving back from Logrono, Jorge was talking about the Coop that he started a month ago, a food coop delivering a “green basket” to 20+ families, started with 11 families, and every week someone new adds on. Anyhow, he would like to include organic breads, but nobody in the area near him (Vallles Oriental) makes it. So he suggested I do it, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.

So last Sunday morning, we drove up with a couple of people from his town, to www.vergeldelashadas.com a farm in the woods near Hostalrich, where our marvelous teacher, Adalu and her incredibly handy husband Santi taught us how to make bread, we made pizzas too with all kinds of organic toppings. And we took the breads home and they were more delicious, I guess because we made them.

I should be seeing Jorge tomorrow, in order to go to the “Ecologistas Convention”, I’m curious to see if it’s anything like the “Green Festival”. He told me he was going to buy some organic flour yesterday to start doing some samples on our own.

Meanwhile last night, I went with my girlfriends to see a surprise concert. It was a surprise cause none of us had seen this group or knew what they sounded like; and it was a treat, because the singer had a heavenly voice. The group is La Porta dels Somnis” ( the door of dreams).

Check them out...

EntreViñas

Logroño en Bici, the bike organization of that city, had put together a 3 day tour of the Rioja for their members, as this is harvest time, and when the leaves have turned red and yellow, which makes for a very colorful spectacle. 

50 people had signed up, however some of them also belong to Ecologistas en Accion, and since many of the Vive el Ebro group were interested, they allowed those people to sign up; so now 150 people were on board, more would have come, but the people in charge, lacking experience with large groups, were afraid to take on more.

I had left Wilbur behind with my friend Alicia, because this trip was bikes only, no support vehicle, and at a rate of 50 kms daily was too much for his paws. So Jorge and I took the van to Logroño, there was no sleeping provided for the first and last day, so we used the van; but first we headed over to Plaza del Mercado at 8pm, the meeting spot for a welcome critical mass throughout this gorgeous city. Followed by a little bar hoping, wine and tapas.

The next morning we gathered again at Plaza del Mercado, we received a little instruction and police escort to the beginning of the trail. Upon arriving at the first town of Oion, the group split 3 ways, one longer, harder route, climbing the sierra, second a shorter route, while the third was heading more direct to the final destination of the day, the medieval castle town of Laguardia, that just happened to be celebrating it's festivities. Jordi and I waited for Ana from Elche in Oion, as she was delayed due to loosing one of her wheels, on her drive up. By lunch time we landed in Yecora, where all the groups coincided, so the only local bar ran out of food. Luckily, most people carried some snack, besides stopping along the way to feed on grapes, figs, almonds, walnuts. Somehow along the way I ended up in the longer route, arrived at dusk to Laguardia, and showered with cold water. We all went out to enjoy the festivities.


Although I was still very tired in the morning, I was trying not to fall behind. I was dragging myself in order to make it to the Eguren Ugarte winery, however after the visit we enjoyed some wine tasting and a delicious chorizo sandwich, and I guess it must have given me a real boost, cause after that I was cruising along just fine, I even made it to Briones, another castle city, in time for a hot shower.


Last day back to Logroño, seemed not as hard, but definitely longer, and a feast for the eyes in it's entirety. There were no showers upon arrival, we changed when we got to the van, and went back to Plaza del Mercado to meet up with everyone again and do some typical bar hoping.

Before heading back home the next day, we took a 40km detour to visit another castle city, this time it was Olite, not far from Pamplona; this town had to spend a fortune on the reconstruction of this XIII century bastion, but it was definitely worth the trip.

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Magic Fountains

Back in 1969, while in Toronto living with my grandparents and uncle Victor, all were usually busy at work when I came home from school, occasionally I would forget my keys, and I’d squeeze my then skinny arm through the mail slot of our apartment door, reach up to unlock the door. I was not allowed to go out and play, the very few times I did, I would somehow get into trouble; so most of the time I watched from our eighth story window, while the others kids played below. The old  b&w tv we had, sat on top of an old faded yellow leather suitcase that sat flat on the floor, we didn’t have a sofa, we did have a couple of chairs and a small dining table, but I preferred sitting on the floor, the commercials were different versions of fun, kids and circus people enjoying peanut butter, which I had no idea what it might taste like, but everyone loved, as did the kids in my class at school. After months of begging, my grandmother surprised my with a small jar; I was so excited, my mouth watering, and when finally the peanut butter touched my tongue, my world crumbled around me, it was disgusting!, how was it possible? 

I remember one evening, we watched Ed Sullivan interviewing Robert Wagner, Ed asked the question: “if you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would it be?”...

I had asked myself that same question once in my life, about 15 years ago, and after much thought I answered myself: driving along Pacific Coast Highway with my friend Heather at the wheel, going nowhere in particular and enjoying a little toke.

Anyway, back to Robert, he answered: “on the steps of Montjuic in Barcelona watching the colored water fountains”...Oh boy! I was so excited, my grandmother too; but it was my grandfather who would take me there several times throughout my childhood and it was always such a treat, and it still is, actually now it’s even better, cause back in the 80’s they added music too. My grandfather told me the engineer Buigas, who designed the fountains, had died penny-less for lack of work afterwards.

I had been wanting to go for awhile now, so when Alicia called about going to the big city with her kids, be both agreed, let’s do it. 

A week after that I met Sandy, who hadn’t been back here since the 60’s, and I only got to spend part of one day with her, as I had to go to one of my classes and she had planned train/bus trip to Cadaques. We tried to take it easy, by not going too fast, but still, there’s so much to see that walking is the best way to get around, otherwise you miss a bunch. The one place she said she wanted to see is Parc Guell, which is a treat, except that it’s loaded with tourists. 

We walked up towards the mountain, through and stopped for lunch in Gracia neighborhood, ate a traditional catalan menu for 10 euros each, and went to the parc right after, around 4pm, usually not so crowded, and best before kids let out of school.

9/11

I am running behind on my blogging lately, not sure if it’s the laziness of the summer heat, which is not entirely too bad, but the high humidity makes you sweat if you move an inch, or it could be that I have been here, telling my stories for just over 6 months now, and I’m not sure if my readers are still interested, or if I’m still interested? I guess if nothing else, I can always look back, like when we look at old pictures, and relive those moments in our lives, particularly now that my short term memory is so bad.

All around the world, for the past 10 years 9/11 is remembered for the falling of NYC twins towers (plus the building several blocks away that held the Enron documents), but I won’t get into that. There’s also another 9/11, or as it is known here (since we switch the day/month), 11 de Setembre de 1714, also known as “Diada de Catalunya”, which celebrates the biggest defeat of the Catalan Nation, when the ancestors of the current King of Spain waltzed into the walls of Barcelona to kill everyone, every Catalan person they could find.

I don’t know of any other culture that actually “celebrates” a defeat, then again Catalan people are a rare bunch, and the struggle goes on, it never stopped. When I was in high school here, Franco was still in business, even from his deathbed he executed a 17 year old boy, who happened to be the brother of one of my class mates and friends. 

Nearly 40 years later not only dealing with the same fascist shit, but from within Spain the truth of the past is still covered up, as was astounding when the same spanish judge Battasar Garzon, who was so praised for exposing Pinochet and many other world tyrants, was instead incarcerated for exposing Franco’s vile butchery throughout his lifetime.

More recently the current fascist political party known as PP (Partido Popular) that has won regional elections in central Spain, brought to the table a new mandate to enforce Castilian language over Catalan that is currently and for the last 30 years been taught in schools and has worked very well because it integrates all immigrants.

So I met with my uncle Victor to go downtown, visit “el Fossar de les Moreres” which is the mass burial site for those who died back in 1714, and listen to a few people speak there mind, and admire all the passion that is still a huge part of the significance of being Catalan.

We stopped to say hello to Jordi Bigues, who is promoting his book due to be released later this month: Avui Actius, o Dema Radioactius” (today active or tomorrow radioactive), unfortunately, the book is being published in Catalan, and although there is a hopefull plan to publish an English translation, there are not enough funds as of yet to do so.

Oh, and by the way this Catalan flag with the single star, that you've seen above, is the future flag of the Republic of Catalonia, they call it "estelada".

5 Days in Borreda

In case you didn’t know, in Spain during the month of August everyone shuts down and goes on vacation; that’s how it was when I was young, and to an extent it continues, however, due to the recession, most people can’t afford to go away for the entire month, many don’t even go anywhere, they simply take time off from work. So those who have managed to still be in business shut down for a week or two. 

It took me a couple of weeks just to get used to businesses closing in the middle of the day; so you better be sure that you have all your ingredients for the sumptuous meal your about to prepare, cause if you forgot anything you’re S.O.L.

So Renfe, the train company shut down most of their stations downtown Barcelona in order to do some improvements, which meant you would need to take the Metro or Ferrocarrils Catalans to connect in between. Dogs are allowed on trains, but not on any other public transport, so getting around with Wilbur was not possible without a little help.

The previous week I went to visit Esther in Roda, and left Wilbur behind with Edward overnight, but last week Edward dropped us off at Sants station so we could take the train to Ripoll, where Maite, a very dear high school friend met us, as this was the closest, half an hour to Borreda (in the Bergueda region), the town town of her mental release for the last 20 years, which has been her husband’s family getaway for the last 50 years.

She had told me awhile back that I would understand the reason of their decision to become dangerously loaded with a mortgage once I saw this place. As Xavi’s other family, brother, sister and all their kids just got too big for one house, and the two of them couldn’t bear the thought of letting go of this old house...could you?

Maite is one of two very old, very dear friends that are truly akin to me, much like those new friends in my river Ebro experience, knowledgeable, concerned and acting to better our environment; so you can imagine we have plenty to talk about, so much so, that a couple of times we caught ourselves not leaving the kitchen for hours on end, while Xavi was busy cleaning and fixing the outdoor shed.

But our late afternoon, early evening hikes were totally awesome, we kept heading along one river or other so both Wilbur and Roc could play along the way jumping in and out of the water, so we didn’t need to worry about them getting hot or thirsty.

Our mood was high-lit by delicious cookies, brownies and a blackberry cheesecake of which we used the special ingredient butter we had prepared early on.

I had a hard time leaving this place and my friends, and I hope to go back sometime soon.

Vive el Ebro - Episode VII-Grand Finale

Miravet-Deltebre (75 kms)

Huge scare this morning, as Wilbur, who was calmly sitting in the front seat of the van, started convulsing, his body and legs contorting and cramping for 2 minutes, then 20 more minutes for his muscles to relax, his eyes to come back and his breathing to become regular, then another hour before he could lift his head. Annelies calls an emergency vet in Tortosa, gives me the phone, and she informs me the symptoms I describe are that of an epilepsy attack.

So I leave the group and head directly to Tortosa, which is where we are getting together with local members for lunch. I had breakfast while I waited for the test results from the vet, which turned out just fine, the vet explains how these episodes are not unusual, that it may be just a one time incident, and to watch over him in case it would happen again to keep his head in a position that would avoid him drowning in his vomit.

I head over to the Pabello Firal, where the locals are already busy preparing a lovely lunch, and since it’s still early, I shower and grab the bike to go for a a visit of the old downtown of Tortosa, in hopes to buy a new pair of sunglasses, but after seeing the prices I decide to live without, at least for the time being.

The group finally arrives, and during lunch, Paco, the local member who was nice enough to take the time to post signs along the way the past couple of days, to keep the group from getting lost, tells me of some of the local issues with the river, and mentions one emerging problem that nobody has yet presented, and that is the huge amounts of chemical salt scattered on the winter roads that are adding to the deterioration of the quality of the water.

Francois, who joined the group recently. and has a marvellous ability to play his flute while riding his bike, iniciates a jam session during the “sobre mesa” (after lunch conversations). And while others are showering or enjoying a siesta, I ask Jordi to accompany me to climb up to the castle walls, as Pepa mentioned to me earlier, Tortosa is known to have the longest wall in all of Europe, part Iberian, part Roman, part low and high Medieval and even part Contemporary.

Before continuing to Deltebre, which is our final destination (yes, it “is” coming to an end, which I know, you’ve been wondering about) we first go down to a section of the river to take more photos for the media, while chanting: “lo riu es vida, no al transvasement” ( the river is life, no to the trasvase).

Paco leads the vehicles out of Tortosa, and I take over the lead to Deltebre, and find the “Camp de Futbol” (soccer stadium), where we will sleep the next two nights.

We all get together over the bridge where a very young group of kids recieves us with a Batukada, which is a very emotional moment, tears, laughter, joy, and I can’t believe my eyes when I see Marisa, my friend from Cantabria who had left the group back in Logrono, she said she would try to come back, and she did. Manolo also came back a little later that evening with a small group from Madrid.

It had been a very long day, so while the town threw us a party that started around 1am, and was a bit far, those who did go, were partying threw the night, some called it in, and I wanted to spend time with Marisa, so we went with Jordi, Alene and her husband to a nearby hotel to have some beers and play pool.

Deltebre-Desembocadura-Deltebre

Wilbur ran alongside my bike, about 8 miles towards the ferry that will take the group to the spot where river meets the Mediterranian Sea, but upon boarding, the captain refuses to let Wilbur on board, so I take Reme’s car to try to catch Polet, but I’m too late, they’re already off meeting with the ferry. I go as far as I can, to take pictures while they symbolically deliver the sediments collected along the way. 

Suddenly a sadness takes over in my mind, while I’m standing here with Wilbur next to me, watching my friends only less than a mile away, with flashbacks of the trip from the first day at the birth of the river, and now to be left back just 1 kilometer from the end, I began to cry. I left, but I couldn’t shake off the sadness, I went to buy some meat for Wilbur and back to the empty stadium, read a book for awhile, then when I went to take a shower, I saw a single sheet of paper on the wall that read: “you need to change any situation from negative to a positive one”. That was all it took, to clear my mind that was playing tricks on me; took a shower and joined my friends for lunch. However I still wanted to get “there”, so when Tom asked if he could borrow the canoe, I told him he could if he took me to the desembocadura.

First he had to go help move our tents at the soccer field as the townspeople were having an event there, while I joined other follow a tour leader for some bird watching, Later Tom and I took the canoe out, I left Wilbur in the van, as I was afraid of rolling it over, cause of the wavy currents, which left enough room in the canoe to collect large trash objects that we found there.

We rushed to get a sandwich for dinner in order to make it on time to see the Teatro Participatorio that Natalia and a few volunteers had prepared for us, I had mentioned it before, and while I very much wanted to volunteer, I was either late, or to tired to participate in the rehearsals. Luckily we have awesome younger people with energy and willingness to spare, so Leo, Pablo, Marta, Demeza and LP played out the scene, that was  later reproduced several times along with members of the public who had ideas on how to improve the story being told. And while it was a wonderful effort with great results on moving the viewer to take action, it had been another long day, and I wasn’t the only one that was having a hard time keeping my eyes open, and yet we still took the time to celebrate Marta’s birthday and again being led by Natalia on another ingenious exercise of hand holding and creating swaying, moving line where we crossed looking each other  deep into our eyes as a way of remembering everyone present before saying goodbye and collecting as many emails as I could.

Going Home

I got up at 7am to go potty, and found all the vans leaving, one to Madrid, one to Bilbao and Jordi was taking 5 people to Tortosa to catch trains and buses. I said goodbyes again and went back to sleep till 9am, which I got up in a flash, as I was theoretically supposed to have packed all the tents and bags by the time Jordi got back; of course he arrived 5 minutes later and I was far from done. I was saddened again when I realized that Marisa had already left, which later I found out that she left thinking that we had gone and was taken by her own melancholy.

After all was packed, the much smaller group remaining was easily swayed by our local members, Josep, Jon and Lluch to go to the beach, which we did, we all went to El Trabucador, on the other side of the Delta; but first we had to leave the stadium, which also meant leaving behind a very sweet little dog that we found on arrival here, obviously homeless, and while many of us thought about taking her, it was Lluch who actually stood up to the plate and adopted her as his own and named her Ebreta, in honor of the river that we had enjoyed all these days. 

While nobody was in a hurry to go home, and the locals kept finding ways to delay our departure, it was already 7pm and we still had a couple of hours to reach Barcelona where we dropped off Annelies, Pablo, Lidia and Alexis before home.