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River Onyar, Girona

Girona is an ancient city, and the capital of the northernmost Mediterranean province in Spain. Its landscape knits a patchwork of vineyards and assorted orchards, and its culture is steeped in the Catalán language, derived directly from Latin, like neighboring Castilian, French or Langue d'oc. The center of Girona straddles and traces the path of the Onyar River. Along the Rambla de la Llibertat, and uphill into the Old City, one finds a warren of ancient alleys, and impressive historic sites.

Museums / Culture
The Museu d`Art displays works from the Pre-Romanesque, Romanesque, Gothic and Renaissance periods.
Architecture
Girona's architecture blends the ancient with the medieval with the modern. The city center is lined with cobblestones, shops, and sumptuous façades.

Restaurants
Rich in sidewalk cafes, four-star dining, and fine cuisine accessible to all price ranges and palates.

Daytrips
Figueres » Cadaqués » Empùries (Greek settlement c. 600BC) » Pyrenees » Southern France

Region
Catalunya has long been the industrial and financial hub of the Spanish economy, but is also known for its art, architecture, and for the fine wines and cavas that are grown there. The regional language, Catalán, is a romance language as unique, vibrant and distinct as French or Italian, and is proudly guarded and promoted by the locals.

Transportation
Regional trains also take travelers to many cities throughout Catalunya, and north to France.
CavaTravel Original Travel Narrative
Xampanyería: A Memoir of Spain

Nothing easier than getting lost in the ruins of another time.

The cobbles, the asphalt, the air were rich with sea salt. The mountains on the northwestern edge of Barcelona invited morning fogs to hang over the whole city, sinking only reluctantly back to the shoreline. These fogs lifted the sediment of history, daily, into the air, a ritual cleaning. A salty timeless savor would, daily, override the sooty-city residue of industry. For those intimate, empty hours, life itself opened up, became vulnerable, reliant upon our will. We tended to attempt to dwell among the salts.
No matter what my intended destination (many days I would have an insurmountable urge to pass by the Museo Picasso; other days, it was more important to find myself at the port’s edge, watching the world in flux), all streets, every exiting of an art gallery, every callejón or escondrijo, every late café luncheon, would lead me back to the xampanyería. We would sometimes joke that all of the Barri Gótic was a series of compartments of the spirit, all fascinating but exhausting, all begging the loud, unclean serenity of the crowded cava bar.
At four p.m., possibly, definitely within the hour, one could locate Michael or Saint Jerome or Renault, Farola or the Dutchman. Nevertheless, it was always the outside, the persistence of the old places, that would drive us there. It was always an integral part of a more organismal experience, never solely, or statically, ‘a separate peace’. [Full Text]
© 2000 Joseph Robertson
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Oxígeno y ciprés: junio en España

ENTRANDO...

Camino por el pasillo abierto que lleva hasta la puerta. Me recuerdo. Recuerdo sin fallos el lugar y el sentido del lugar. Ver el mismo cactus, el encanto de las plantas que llueven sobre los muros, ver la casa, el umbral, la cara y bondad insondable de Gloria, que siempre me cuidaba tan bien, significa una colaboración improbable con el fluír temporal.
Cenamos y hablamos de literatura, de leyenda y de la verdad. Hablamos de ese espacio infinito que corre por entre los nudos y planicies de la biografía a medias.

Me encuentro entre planes, entre mundos, entre variados trayectos de un progreso incierto que se llama vida. El aire tenue y privado está repleto de fantasmas e ideales, preferencias, gustos, y todo lo demás que pueda trascender los cambios cotidianos de la vida... [Texto completo]

© 2001 Joseph Robertson
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