Chapter Two
Okay, lets see. Where did we leave off . . . Oh yes. Before I begin I should mention that I.m at the computer without punctuation. Just so you.re aware.
So, Emma picked us up from the cafe we were sitting in and we split up into two cars. We drove out of figures, and into the villages surrounding. I was in the car with Irene and Mark, Emmas sister and boyfriend. Mark was a wonderful tour guide, being sure to point out any areas that might interest us, even though they were fairly common in his life. We passed buildings that were 300 to 500 years old, brightly colored and stacked on top of each other. We drove thru Empuras, which as a section of ancient roman ruins, and swept by a castle over 1000 years old. They still use the building, and the moat, with the wood burning lamps and all, was ready to defend should anyone approach. In the background of our drive was the mountains, with scattered ancient villages. We drove we passed wet lands, with rivers and tall reeds, eventually passing the corn fields and sunflower fields. These were my favorite. Picture this . .. you.ll have to because I dont have a picture, seeing as we were driving in a car. The mountains are rising in the background, grey with specks of green trees, sun reflecting off their surfaces, you can see the shadow of the clouds passing over the cities on the mountain edge. And at the base of the mountain are fields and fields of sunflowers. Acres of them. All of them fully in bloom, right yellow pettels with dark brown centers, pregnant with seeds, their heads bowing as we breeze by, silently bobbing in the wind. It was gorgeous. Just the most peacefull image. It reminded me of my favorite poem, "I wandered lonely as a cloud", except in the poem its jonquils, not sunflowers. But the same idea. Bright yellow, contrasted by the stark grey of the mountains, speckled with brown brick houses.
We arrived at Marks flat in Roses, on the Costa Brava, and the three hosts cooked us a light lunch. Then we cleaned up and took off for the beach.
Now, when we think beach, its sand and sun. When they think beach, because of the people they are, they think not tourist, but nice for swimming. So, past all these tourist villages we went, with bright white houses on the mountain edge, steps away from the sea. It was worthy of a painting, and I.m sure many artists have taken on such a challenge. Curving thru the tiny roads, we continued up the hills, rising above the water, following a cliff. Soon, in front of us were more seaside castles, with a sea stretching out in front of us, the glint of the sun reflecting off the water, with scattered sailboats displaying their full plumage. We tightly wound along the street, until the street became a trail, the road climbing higher and higher. We stopped, about 30 mintues later on a cliff over looking the water. This was their beach, believe it or not.
Getting to the water required us to hike down a narrow trail, winding past cactus and giant aloe plants, stepping carefully over the rocks, bags in tow down this cliff. The trail apparently extends the entire length of the Costa Brava, and anyone interested is welcome to join me in backpacking its full distance. When we arrived, finally, at the bottom there was a rocky beach, much like Superior, except on surrounded by giant boulders. We set up shop and dipped into the most crystal clear perfect water in the world. It was Lake Superior, 50 degrees warmer. Perfect for swimming after our hike down. In front of us was the sun setting and the silouette of boats. Behind us was a giant mountain. The highlight of my weekend happend right here, just being there, away from the city, someplace with clean water and clean air, where the wind could blow without all the polution and the noise. It was exactly what I needed.
We swam there for about an hour, and then hiked back up the trail to the cars. Mark was going to run the length of the trail back to Roses, so Irene and Emma drove us back to his flat where we were able to drop our stuff before heading out to the tourist beach for some volleyball. The trip back was packed with cars, and took a while, but allowed me a chance to nap before the nights festivities.
As much as I. d love to continue, I cant. I have homework to do, and its 6.30 already. I.ll write again tomorrow, I.m sure that will be far more interesting than hearing about my schoolwork. So, as they say all over, to be continued . . .
So, Emma picked us up from the cafe we were sitting in and we split up into two cars. We drove out of figures, and into the villages surrounding. I was in the car with Irene and Mark, Emmas sister and boyfriend. Mark was a wonderful tour guide, being sure to point out any areas that might interest us, even though they were fairly common in his life. We passed buildings that were 300 to 500 years old, brightly colored and stacked on top of each other. We drove thru Empuras, which as a section of ancient roman ruins, and swept by a castle over 1000 years old. They still use the building, and the moat, with the wood burning lamps and all, was ready to defend should anyone approach. In the background of our drive was the mountains, with scattered ancient villages. We drove we passed wet lands, with rivers and tall reeds, eventually passing the corn fields and sunflower fields. These were my favorite. Picture this . .. you.ll have to because I dont have a picture, seeing as we were driving in a car. The mountains are rising in the background, grey with specks of green trees, sun reflecting off their surfaces, you can see the shadow of the clouds passing over the cities on the mountain edge. And at the base of the mountain are fields and fields of sunflowers. Acres of them. All of them fully in bloom, right yellow pettels with dark brown centers, pregnant with seeds, their heads bowing as we breeze by, silently bobbing in the wind. It was gorgeous. Just the most peacefull image. It reminded me of my favorite poem, "I wandered lonely as a cloud", except in the poem its jonquils, not sunflowers. But the same idea. Bright yellow, contrasted by the stark grey of the mountains, speckled with brown brick houses.
We arrived at Marks flat in Roses, on the Costa Brava, and the three hosts cooked us a light lunch. Then we cleaned up and took off for the beach.
Now, when we think beach, its sand and sun. When they think beach, because of the people they are, they think not tourist, but nice for swimming. So, past all these tourist villages we went, with bright white houses on the mountain edge, steps away from the sea. It was worthy of a painting, and I.m sure many artists have taken on such a challenge. Curving thru the tiny roads, we continued up the hills, rising above the water, following a cliff. Soon, in front of us were more seaside castles, with a sea stretching out in front of us, the glint of the sun reflecting off the water, with scattered sailboats displaying their full plumage. We tightly wound along the street, until the street became a trail, the road climbing higher and higher. We stopped, about 30 mintues later on a cliff over looking the water. This was their beach, believe it or not.
Getting to the water required us to hike down a narrow trail, winding past cactus and giant aloe plants, stepping carefully over the rocks, bags in tow down this cliff. The trail apparently extends the entire length of the Costa Brava, and anyone interested is welcome to join me in backpacking its full distance. When we arrived, finally, at the bottom there was a rocky beach, much like Superior, except on surrounded by giant boulders. We set up shop and dipped into the most crystal clear perfect water in the world. It was Lake Superior, 50 degrees warmer. Perfect for swimming after our hike down. In front of us was the sun setting and the silouette of boats. Behind us was a giant mountain. The highlight of my weekend happend right here, just being there, away from the city, someplace with clean water and clean air, where the wind could blow without all the polution and the noise. It was exactly what I needed.
We swam there for about an hour, and then hiked back up the trail to the cars. Mark was going to run the length of the trail back to Roses, so Irene and Emma drove us back to his flat where we were able to drop our stuff before heading out to the tourist beach for some volleyball. The trip back was packed with cars, and took a while, but allowed me a chance to nap before the nights festivities.
As much as I. d love to continue, I cant. I have homework to do, and its 6.30 already. I.ll write again tomorrow, I.m sure that will be far more interesting than hearing about my schoolwork. So, as they say all over, to be continued . . .
posted by Chandi at 6:38 PM
3 Comments:
After that who could ever want to leave?
Again, in appreciation for your situation at the keyboard, here is my unpuctuated response. I can B3 p00r anYwh3r3 SP4in s0unDs muCh c... Okay, that is too hard... Spain sounds much cooler than Kalamazoo. Someone once wrote, "Climb the mountain to test it is a mountain." I'm not sure why they said it. I'm a rock climber so it makes no sense to me, but I thought you might find it pertinate. Perhaps you might not need to climb to the top when you can ski to the avacados. There is my wisdom for this posting. You take care.
I have this beautiful picture of a sunflower field in my mind. The beach sounded pretty good too. I feel like I just had a mini-vacation!
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