Thursday, February 9, 2012
Sant Pere Pescador
A few wrong turns in Castello d'Empuries and we were travelling the labyrinth of little narrow streets. It was lunch time and we had already passed several closed supermarkets but as luck would have it we spotted a restaurant up a side street. It was time to stop. The restaurant, "Portal de la Gallarda," Portal of the Brave was in a very old building, part of it a ruin. Inside the owners had preserved all the stone brick and arches as well as putting plate glass over the portals that would have been the outside walls. From here you could look across the local allotments to the Pyrenees in the distance. From the courtyard outside you looked down on the portal or gate, complete with a bridge crossing a moat.
Dali's photo was up on the wall and apparently he had been a regular, along with with Fages de Climent, a local poet, who Dali had been friendly with since he was a child. They collaborated on an "auca" or storybook with a series of pictures and rhyming couplets, "The Triumph and the couplet of Gala and Dali." This was our table mat at lunch and I asked if I could take one with me to translate what it says. So far I'm afraid I haven't made too much sense of it.
At the next table there was a very old lady, the mother of the owner, and another of her sons, who himself was quite old. The whole time we were there she opened a small pile of business mail and scrutinised every single word on the page. The odd time she would pass a letter or statement to her son, who would get worked up about whatever it was. I think I would be right in saying that she held the purse strings for the business. When I saw her it reminded me of an old Italian friend of ours who always tells the story of how his rich grandmother always counted her money and knew exactly what she had down to the last penny. Unfortunately, for him she would never buy her grandson an ice cream, something that rankles to this day and he's eighty.
Finally, we went for our walk on the beach at San Pere de Pescador only this time the sand was quite soft and it was much harder walking on the dunes and the beautiful expanse of beach. We came to the river.....but it was just a little too deep to cross. By this time it was lovely and warm, thirteen degrees celsius as we returned to the car along the top of the dunes. I wonder if you could wrap up, take a chair and a book and sit for a while or is it still too cold for that? What a lovely unexpected day but now it's night and once again the wind has picked up.