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| Valle de Abdalajis |
We flew Newark
to Barcelona in Delta coach. It was a seven hour flight and we were glad we’d paid extra for a
little extra legroom. Aeroport bus to the center of the city, then taxi to the
Air BnB where we met Gemma, the woman we were renting from She was still
cleaning the apartment after previous renters, so we dropped our luggage off
and walked to the nearby Cathedral Familia Sagrada, hung out in a park, had
something to eat, went back to apartment and settled in.
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| La Familia Sagruda |
Thursday notes: Sitting in
a coffee shop near the university, soft guitar music, watching all the pretty
people walking by, decent salad, good espresso, feeling good with Jean. We
visited the Catedral de Barcelona (more traditional than the far-out La
Familia). There were many shrines within the cathedral, some old tombs (from
1500s), and a realistic wax figure of a priest in a confessional. When I leaned
in to look closer, he blinked! It was a living person, not wax – talk about
startled!
We went to La Familia
Sagrada, a strange edifice designed by Antonio Gaudi, the penultimate Barcelona
architect. The cathedral has been under construction since 1882 and is scheduled
for completion in 2026
Walked to Barrio Gotic, a
maze of narrow streets, upscale shops, a whole tourist scene. Jean went into
the Picasso Museum and I hung out on the streets. Got a text from Kristina, who
has passed her state boards (NCLEX) – congratulations!
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| Las feministas 💖 |
Walking back to our
apartment and up ahead we hear chanting, cheering, lots of people. Checking it
out – las feministas! Into the flow now, joining in long enough to be able to
say we were there. It was a happy and intense time – yet another life bookend
for me – thinking of Leslie and when she bought the early Our Bodies/Our Selves
at the Whole Earth Store in Austin; how in those early days feminism seemed
radical (it was, actually); how she was an avowed feminist until the end of her
life; how she put her beliefs into action, working with and lifting up women
all her life. We were raised in the 1950s, raised ourselves in the 1960s and
now, 50 years later, in a march with Jean, another serious feminist! Fortunate
me! Days later, walking through an area of Barcelona called, “El Clot,” we
picked up a flyer that said, “El Clot esta FEMINISTA o no sera.” Yes!
At dinner in a
neighborhood-oriented tapas café we watched part of a soccer semifinals game.
Barcelona won and the café erupted, as did the streets – honking, cheering,
fireworks. Great fun.
On to Granada – we missed
our flight, and got another flight. After several misadventures, we got to the
Hotel Leo for our first night in Granada, and then moved to an apartment. The
taxi to the apartment couldn’t take us all the way because of a religious
parade. So we hiked quite a ways and when we were in the middle of the parade,
a parade marshal let us through and we kept on hiking and hiking up narrow
cobblestone streets until finally reaching our apartment at #90 San Juan de los
Reyes.
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| La feminista; mi corazon |
The apartment was
incredible. First floor entry, second floor two bedrooms and bathroom, and
third floor living room, kitchen, and veranda. From the bedroom and from the
veranda, there were stunning views of Alhambra. And at night, when the
fortress/palace/mosque was lighted, our bed and we were bathed in the light.
Our tickets to see
Alhambra were on a cold and rainy day and so there we were again, walking in
misty gardens all wet with rain. Happy days. Alhambra was spectacular, though
somewhat crowded. We could see our apartment across the little river running
beneath the ramparts.
By now, I’d lost track of
regular writing.
While we were traveling,
we observed the date of Leslie’s passing, Leslie’s birthday, the anniversary of
Jean’s husband’s passing, and Jean’s wedding anniversary – March is quite a
month, grief-wise! On Leslie’s birthday, Jean asked me what time it was. I said
I didn’t know and so Jean checked her phone. As she opened the phone, the time
clicked over from 7:46 to 7:47 – 747 being the number of greatest meaning to
Leslie. Hi Leslie! Sigh. |
| Our bedroom in Granada |
Granada was a high point
of the trip: our incredible apartment and view, narrow cobblestone streets,
little bus up to (what we called) hippie hill, street musicians, good food,
good Spanish wine, romantic everything. I actually had not thought that Spain
would be any more or less romantic than our usual life. But it was very romantic.
 |
| Our street in Granada |
We drove up above the
village for a lovely time along a deserted road. Dinner in Antequera was
unusual – including an orange and salted cod salad, rabbit and garlic stew, a
sausage potato and egg dish, and bread with olives and olive oil.
From the valley we drove
to Cordoba, where we stayed at a hotel half a block from the entrance to la Mezquita
de Cordoba. Once again, we were in narrow, cobblestone streets, sidewalk cafes,
and among friendly people.
 |
| The Hope of a Condemned Man III. Miro finished this on the day the man was executed |
We walked from our
apartment to El Clot, a transitional middle class and art-oriented
neighborhood. Nice espresso at a nice community center, where we picked up the
flyer that said, “El Clot esta FEMINISTA o no sera.” Yes! I read a few days ago
that at the University of Texas approximately 1 in 7 women has been raped. The
president “just grab ‘em by the pussy” of the united states is a misogynist sexual
predator leading a republican party that despises women, except as sex objects
– in case anyone thinks feminism isn’t an immediate issue.
 |
| Enduring Granada memory - a little psychedelic band |
Easy days and nights in
Barcelona. Several wonderful dinners at a small upscale restaurant, Vivant.
These are the days!
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| Home in Berkeley |
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