Spain – Page 5 – From Pyrenees to Pennines

A History of Bridge Building in Ten Bridges

Let’s start with a Roman Bridge, in Córdoba. It’s called the Roman bridge, because it was first built during the Roman colonisation of southern Spain. But it was overhauled in the 10th century. Then in the Middle Ages. Then in the 16th and the 17th centuries, when a statue of St Raphael was added. Lights were added in the 19th century, and it was pedestrianised in 2006. It’s a wonder it can still be called the Roman Bridge. But it can. The 14th and 15 arches are still the original ones.

We’ll leap forward to the Renaissance, but stay in Spain, in Valencia, and visit the Puente del Mar. Flooding in the River Túria swept away an old wooden bridge, so in 1591, it was replaced with this:

Stone, brick, wood: all these were the traditional bridge -building materials of choice down the centuries. Until the Industrial Revolution here in England, whose original epicentre was in Coalbrookdale, thanks to its wealth of natural resources all conveniently in the same area. The world’s first iron bridge was built here in 1779.

The Iron Bridge, Coalbrookdale, Shropshire.

This bridge is the grandparent of almost all bridges built – in the UK at least – since then and into the 20th century. Here are three: Vauxhall Bridge, completed in 1906; the Tees Transporter Bridge, completed in 1911, and the Tyne Bridge, completed in 1928.

Let’s leap briefly into the 21st century, and look at one of the bridges in Valencia’s assertively future-facing Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias, created between 1998 and 2009.

Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias, Valencia.

And finally, the Millau Viaduct, sweeping more than 300 metres above the Tarn in southern France, designed by Norman Foster and completed in 2004. Like Valencia’s Science Park, it’s a destination in its own right.

But we can’t leave without mentioning the featured photo: London’s iconic Tower Bridge, open to traffic since 1894: both road traffic, and when regularly lifted, to river traffic beneath. The photo demonstrates why the extra height is necessary: that’s HMS Belfast in the foreground.

And to finish off, let’s stop at something that’s even older than bridges as a way of allowing travellers to cross water. Stepping stones. These are at Redmire Force, and are still a popular way of crossing the River Ure.

For Leannne’s Monochrome Madness#17: Bridges

What Use is a Balcony?

This week, for the Lens-Artists Challenge, PR invites us to present balconies we’ve met. I love leaning over a balcony, with the chance to relish a bit of sunshine whilst enjoying some people -watching. But it turns out that I haven’t got a single shot of residents enjoying their bit of outdoor urban space.

Lots of apartment-owners turn their balconies into gardens. Although the resident in my first shot hasn’t allowed a lack of an existing one to thwart plans. How about repurposing a few chairs? And the second one earns a place to show how so many Spanish and Portuguese balconies are tiled on the underside. Such a good idea!

Then – obviously – there’s Balcony as Washing Line. Here are two from Spain.

Sometimes a balcony is ideal for posting a protest. Here the citizens of Berga demanded Independence from Spain for Catalonia. Five years on, the cries don’t seem to be quite so strident. And in the adjacent images, citizens in a run-down neighbourhood in Seville sought a touch of cultural revival, accompanied by lively illustrations.

Sometimes it’s just about cheering up the neighbourhood. Here we are, first in Berlin, then in Málaga.

And sometimes, balaconies just wish to speak for themselves. Here are two fine examples.

This building is now the Tourist Office in Manises, a town near Valencia which was formerly one of the most important producers of ceramics in Spain. Sadly, its glory days are over.

A fine Modernista building in Mataró by Josep Puig i Cadafalch, the Casa Coll i Regàs.

And some people just don’t have a balcony. So they have to paint one instead.

Two examples of trompe-l’œil in Tournus, Saône-et-Loire, France

My feature photo is of an ordinary street in Argentona, Catalonia – where every house is sporting a balcony.

Thanks, PR – this was an inspired post to set us in the mood for summer travels, and mooching around to find balconies to admire.

A Sunday Monotone

Spotted in Seville.

For Debbie’s One Word Sunday

Pick a Word – then Pick a Photo

Here’s a challenge and a half. Take five words, chosen monthly by Paula of Lost in Translation, and illustrate them. Here are the words: MONASTIC; ABANDONED; CRYSTAL; ECHOING; AFFABLE.

Monastic was easy. Of course I chose Fountains Abbey, a religious community from 1132 until Henry VIII caused it to be surrendered to the crown in 1539, under the Dissolution of the Monasteries. It’s where I have the privilege of volunteering, so it’s almost become my back yard. Here, in my featured photo, is the Abbey in autumn.

Abandoned? So much choice. I’ve picked a rather wrecked house in Seville.

Crystal was trickier. I don’t move in the right circles. But here is a crazed plate glass window on a ferry bound for Spain which has a slightly crystal-ish look.

You may not think my next photo illustrates ‘echoing‘. But trust me – it does. I was among the first passengers to arrive at London Bridge Underground Station just after 5.00 a.m one morning recently. There was not another soul on my platform. Only me. It echoed.

And we’ll stay in London for my last image, a cheery one. This affable chappie was snapped on a day out with Sarah of Travel with Me fame. He was part of a fun sculpture trail for children’s wheelchair charity Whizz Kidz.

So there you have it. Following the links to Paula’s and Sarah’s posts will show you very different interpretations, and perhaps you’ve seen others in blogs you follow too.

Two Rectangles?

For this week’s Lens-Artists Challenge, Egidio asks us to consider compositions relying on two rectangles for their success. So I thought I’d offer a featured photo with lots of rectangles: the basic two, with sky at the top and earth at the bottom, and then, confusingly, a town square entirely tricked out in … squares. Emily and her Catalan family are looking out to sea.

I thought I’d include a couple more using this simplest of devices. The first from my beloved l’Albufera, which I’ve written about before – here (among several others).

And here’s another, from Lake Prespa in Greece, where the water reflects the sky above: the lower rectangle a pleasing echo of the upper.

And here’s one closer to home, in Whitby, a cormorant posing at the end of the pier.

A cormorant on railings at the end of the pier, Whitby, North Yorkshire.

Let’s stay beside the water: one a ferry across to Spain, spying on my fellow-passengers. At the Baltic Gateshead, spying on my fellow River Tyne enthusiasts, and in London, over looking the South Bank.

And finally we’ll whizz over to Barcelona, and wander round El Clot, and then Gràcia, where this view has two rectangles and includes any number of smaller ones, and the daily washing line.

Just Looking …

There were times during my recent trip to Spain when I was part of a street-side audience. But there were those who had a prime viewing spot. They lived in an apartment immediately above the action. I have a few shots of them peering down at the events below.

On my first Saturday, we popped over to Barcelona, for a neighbourhood festival: La Festa Major de la Esquerra de l’Exeimple. Early in the morning (well, early for Spain) we happened upon a communal keep-fit session. So did this older inhabitant, who chose to maintain her distance.

This is what she was missing:

Then the next weekend, nearer home, was Rebombori, which I reported on here. As the gegants plodded through the streets, at least one chap had a ringside view.

And when they arrived in the town square, one set of young people had the best view of all:

My header photo is another from the Festa Major, when we were all ‘just looking’ at the Gegants de la Pedrera, the neighbourhood’s very own gegants, celebrating Antoni Gaudí, whose buildings are generously scattered throughout the area. And indeed at the locals who were adding a bit of colour (if not in this photo) by dressing up quite splendidly in Edwardian costume.

For Leanne’s Monochrome Madness, hosted this week by Sarah of Travel with Me.

Water, Water Everywhere … Perfect for a Dog Walk

An early morning walk on the beach in Premià guarantees you’ll see the dog-walkers out in force. Perfect for that all-important daily exercise, for catching up with your friends, and for getting in some scrolling-time.

If I keep digging, I’m bound to strike water …

For Jez’s Water, Water Everywhere.

A History of a Flight in Ten Photos

My flight home from Barcelona the other day was remarkable for two reasons. For one, I had a window seat; and for two, the earth below was visible almost every mile of the way. Here’s the story of a journey.

Oh, and here’s an eleventh photo, from terra firma: alongside the (static) travelator at Manchester Airport.

Sant Cristòfol de Premià

My last day in Premià for the time being, so of course I need a quick walk through my favourite square in town. The oldest church is here: though all is not as it seems. As you’ve probably guessed, it dates from the 18th century. As you probably haven’t guessed, this building is a copy of the original, which was completely destroyed by Franco’s forces during the Spanish Civil War. It’s been rebuilt: an exact copy. So here’s a single church with a double history.

For Leanne’s Monochrome Madness.

The Gegants are Coming!

Gegants – huge human-type figures propelled by actual humans hidden within them – have been a feature of Catalan festive life since the 15th century. Then, they were part of a religious tradition. From the 19th century, they became more and more a celebration of the lives of the community they sprang from. So here in Premià de Mar – Premià-on-Sea – they represent piratical derring-do.

And the Gegants came out to play today as part of a low-key local folk festival, Rebombori. They took over the streets of the town, as did cohorts of child drummers, child dancers, child comperes and slightly disconcerting child Gegants. And we the townsfolk followed wherever they led, coming across more and more friends as the morning turned into afternoon: an excellent time was had by all.

These were all taken on my phone, and better shots are – I hope – to be found on my camera. But phone-posting is my lot at the moment, so … make do with these please, for now.