Spain – Page 5 – From Pyrenees to Pennines

Geometry in Cabrils

We’ve just spent an hour or two in Cabrils. It’s a rather desirable little town near here that’s got itself a bit of a reputation as a gastronomes’ haven. The cafe we chose for a mid-morning break didn’t bear that out, but it was good enough. We were more struck by a clutch of fine buildings: the church with its glazed tile bell-tower; the original town school, now repurposed as a School of Music, ordinary houses with handsome windows; and especially , round and about in the surrounding countryside, castle after castle. The one at the edge of town, which had probably never been defensive and is now abandoned seemed a bit sad. It looked ripe for conversion into fine flats or a luxury hotel.

Sorry about the TV ariel by the church. I couldn’t find a view, in those narrow winding streets that avoided it, Here, below, is that castle I mentioned, and one outside town too. All with geometry firmly employed in their contruction.

GeometricJanuary.

Geometry in an Iconic Door

Premiá de Mar, like most towns round here, has its share of Modernist architecture. Today I’m showing you a splendid door from 1918. Originally a cinema, this building known as El Patronat became a parish hall, before returning to its roots and becoming a local arts centre for performances and film screenings. I always enjoy its exuberant doorways when I pass by.

GeometricJanuary.

Geometry at Espinaler

Here in Catalonia, the thing to do before a Sunday meal or when out meeting friends, is to visit a vermuteria, and sit down for a chat and a vermouth, negro o blanco. And if you’re on this part of the Maresme coast, you may very well choose to go to Espinaler in our next door town, Vilassar de Mar. It’s been part of the local scenery since 1896.

While it started as a simple bar, it’s gone on to bigger and better things: producing its own vermut; developing a piquant sauce, also called Espinaler that brings a little spice and je ne sais quoi to whatever you’re eating; preserving seafoods; and finally developing, in 2012, a gourmet store-tavern-warehouse in Vilassar. That’s where Malcolm and I went today – to window-shop ahead of buying a few treats to take home with us. Here are a few of the things we spotted. Before of course sitting down for a vermut and a tapa or two.

You might notice they even have the odd item from England. I haven’t any photos from the appetising cheese and charcuterie counters, because – well – they weren’t very geometrically-packed products.

GeometricJanuary

Geomètric Cavalcada del Reis Mags

Did you know that the Three Kings who brought gifts to the baby Jesus arrived in a ship? No, neither did I till this evening. Look.

They’ve already done what they had to do by visiting the Christ child. Now here they are approaching Premià de Mar, preparing to bring gifts tonight to all the good children in town. The ship flies the (geometric) flag of Saint George, patron saint of Catalonia. And the port itself is geometric enough, with the masts of so many sailing ships as a foil to the choir singing to welcome the three monarchs.

Later, they put in an appearance at the town square, then processed round the town. I have better (I hope) photos of the event on my camera, but for now, let’s make do with a few mobile phone snapshots – and not very geometric at that. Not so much of the kings, but of their elephants; drummers; coal wagons (naughty children get coal, not presents); post-people receiving letters written by hopeful children. Pictures of the kings, of the distributors of sweets, and other assorted bits of fun will have to wait for another day.

GeometricJanuary

Above the Clouds

Here in the UK, we know a lot about clouds. And at this time of year, we know a lot about grey clouds. Looking out of the window just now yields an unending vista of smoky grey, darkening over Mickley way to gunmetal and slate. No cotton-wool puffs of cumulus for us.

So let me whisk you to a day in June, when the plane transporting me from Barcelona to Leeds offered me a constantly changing cloudscape below me, with tantalising glimpses of beaches, landscapes and the Pyrenees, the Atlantic coast, and then crowded old England. The featured photo shows us just leaving Barcelona – hardly a cloud in the sky. And then …

Although generally a big fan of monochrome, on a grey day like this, I’m not sure I like these clouds and vistas in black and white. My memory of that summer day was of clear bright and optimistic colours. But needs must. This is for Monochrome Madness, and hosted this week by Brian, of Bushboy’s World.

Where Words Fail, Music Speaks

Where words fail, music speaks: so said Hans Christian Anderson. And when Leanne invited me to host Monochrome Madness for One Week Only, I thought Music might be a good theme. We bloggers come from all over the world. Though many of us, in many nations, have English as our first language, there are dozens of different ones in the WordPress melting pot. But we can all enjoy music together, whether singing, playing instruments, or dancing, Or all of the above at once. Let’s do it.

My header image was taken at the neighbourhood Festa Major in Gràcia, Barcelona. It’s out of focus, and I don’t care. It captures I think the verve and enjoyment of those performing drummers.

Here are some dancers in neighbourhood festivals: in Catalonia; and in England – Morris Men.

Instrument players now. The drummer accompanying the Morris dancers; drummers celebrating Chusak in South Korea, and brass players marching in London in those heady optimistic days when some of us still thought Brexit might not happen.

Of course some instrumentalists out in the street are trying to earn a living. Here are buskers in Ripon and Bath.

And a harpist playing at a friend’s wedding in the grounds of the ruined Abbey at Jervaulx ….

Here are singers in Seville, relying simply on the beauty of their voices; and a singer-instrumentalist, heavily dependent on a supply of electricity to produce a sound.

Of course, first you have to have your instrument. Here’s a music shop in Málaga.

This thrush is a musician from the natural world. He commandeers a high branch here, spring after spring, and simply sings his heart out from early morning to early evening, almost without stopping. I wish you could hear him.

And while we’re in the Great Outdoors, is there anything more musical than a tinkling and plashing stream, tumbling tunefully over rocks?

Please do join in with your own musical offerings. And link back both to this post, and to Leanne’s site too, here.

Workaday Staircases

This week’s Monochrome Madness theme is proposed by Aletta of nowathome: and she’s chosen Steps or Stairs. It’s an interesting idea, and one where I could have chosen the grand and elegant staircases gracing the finest palaces and country houses of the rich, titled or famous.

Instead I’ve chosen the steps trodden by ordinary folk on their daily round in Barcelona (featured photo), Newcastle and Sitges; or by monks engaged in their spiritual duties at Fountains Abbey; or by a hiker, needing to nip over a few drystone walls on her several mile journey from A to B.

Or there’s the worker helping construct la Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. It might be one of the most famous buildings in Europe, but shinning about its heights looking for footholds is just part of his 9 – 5, every working day.

Works conttinues at La Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

And I’ll leave you with one little treat. A harpist at Jervaulx Abbey this summer, playing at the wedding of some good friends of ours. She was working, even if the rest of us weren’t.

Reflections in Spain

A few weeks ago, I posted a picture of the Puente del Mar in Valencia. Today, my feature photo displays a different image of this bridge, because this week, Leanne has asked us to post reflections for Monochrome Madness .

And I’m going to stay in Spain, and take a stroll round maritime Barcelona. Yet not a watery reflection in sight.

And here are a couple taken inside the wonderful Cosmo Caixa Science Museum in the same city.

And we’ll finish where we began: at the Puente del Mar. A view from the other side of the bridge.

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.