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.
For Jez’s Water, Water Everywhere.
Here in Premià de Mar, I’ve found evidence of people putting their Best Foot Forward – here’s a man on a mission …
… and three women on a different kind of mission – to master the steps of the Sardana, so they can join in a street party.
All in the interests of Becky’s challenge, inviting us to find posts illustrating Burgeoning – Moving Forward – Reconstructing – Renewing.
The sea is greedily consuming the beaches of the Maresme coast, Catalonia. So here in Premià de Mar, the council is building a series of groynes going out into the sea to prevent the sand being swept away and to encourage it to creep back to the shore.
For Becky’s #SquaresRenew
Paula, who blogs at Lost in Translation, offers each month a different set of five words to illustrate. Look at this month’s: sabulous; brimming; guarding; berthing and bight. Interesting, aren’t they? I bet you had to haul the dictionary out for one, maybe two of them.
It was bight that caught my eye. It actually means …
But it doesn’t mean that to me. Like so many Brits, I’m a devotee of the Shipping Forecast, that four-times-daily forecast to anyone out at sea within reach of the British coast. The coastal waters are divided into zones, each evocatively named.
I’m not out at sea, dicing with the elements: I’m a rotten sailor anyway. But I can be soothed by the predictable poetic rhythms of the regular broadcast. Do watch this explanatory video. It’ll take up under two minutes of your life.
It’s so much a part of my life, I even have a cushion showing many of the much-loved names.
… and there you’ll have spotted it. German Bight. So that’s what Bight means to me. Ships at sea, their crew always ready, four times a day, to tune into that most necessary programme.
It seems only right then, that my four remaining photos should have been taken on the sea, or at any rate by the sea. Here they are …
A few shots from our recent stay: only one is from Barcelona. It’s not hard to tell which one.
For Debbie’s One Word Sunday.
Here is a red (well, reddish) sunrise, seen from our bedroom in our daughter’s family’s house, and looking over at Barcelona in the distance. We’re leaving today, and will miss everything about being here.
For Debbie’s One Word Sunday: Red.
The featured photo is of definitely my favourite door in Premià de Mar. It’s part of an otherwise plain but elegant building whose history I haven’t been able to discover.
Here are a few more from the old town.
For Dan’s Thursday Doors.
Five o’clock. Time to collect Anaïs from nursery school. Off to the shops first, walking along a street planted with Seville orange trees. The bitter fruits don’t tempt anybody to steal one for a snack. But I’m tempted by windfalls. We collect all we can find so that later, we can scrub them clean and make marmalade.
Up the hill, on the way back, here’s a street still with a few papery autumn leaves …
… and a house with a orange tree: sweet oranges this time, and ready to eat.
We turn left, and walk towards the sunset.
Then - finally – home at last …
For Debbie’s Six Word Saturday.
Visit Catalonia while there’s some kind of festival going on, and you might be lucky enough to see Gegants. They’re huge and heavy figures which, during festivals, are carried by some poor – unseen – soul probably sweating and longing for the moment when he (and it’s invariably a ‘he’) can put his burden down and disappear for a drink. They usually represent various traditional characters, though in the early days, way back in the 15th century, they had the job of telling Bible stories.
While we were staying with daughter-and-family in Premià de Mar over Easter, Malcolm and I, out with granddaughter Anaïs, had a piece of luck. A small band of people were hauling the local gegants out of store, and generally checking them over . They invited us to look round the store if we wanted, and we did. I find some of these creatures a little on the creepy side: all the same, I was a bit disappointed that we couldn’t be around on the day that these lumbering giants stalked the streets of the town for one day only.
Come and have a look round the store room with us …
I’ve a feeling that this time, a love story was on the cards. The sort where the Hunk and the Kind and Virtuous Maid live happily ever after.
Do you agree?
For Natalie’s Exploring Public Art Challenge – again.
Last time I took you to a library, it was a rainy day. During our month away, we had just one day of rain – more like a couple of hours – when we were staying with Emily and family in Premià de Mar. She was at work. Miquel was at work. Anaïs was at nursery. Reader, we went to the library.
We found plenty to do. There was the display of children’s books about the sea. And another one of graphic fiction.
There was the stock of English books. Lots for learners – quite impressive. The English language fiction was less so, though it was better than our library’s collection of Spanish books (and we have none in Catalan, unsurprisingly).
With everyone at school, the children’s library was empty. But there was a dedicated room for the youngest borrowers, so they could make all the noise they wanted during story-time sessions. There was a lecture hall, a roof-top performance space. In fact we were impressed.
And as we left, we spotted this poster in Catalan. Go on. Have a go. If you’ve ever learnt any French, or Italian or Spanish for that matter, I think this piece will be accessible to you. And you won’t have trouble agreeing with its sentiments.
For Rebecca’s Love your Library, a monthly challenge for … of course, library-lovers.
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
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