Castelling, a human tower

Castelling is an ancient Catalan tradition, first documented in the early 1800’s, it began in Tarragona, but has since spread throughout Catalonia. I first saw it courtesy of the pink trousered one, Michael Portillo, in one of his tv programmes, to which I am addicted. As I was in Barcelona for ‘The Dia’ last September, I knew there was a fair chance of seeing it.

The Centre for Cultura i Memoria in El Born was one of the places it could be seen, the one that was easy to find, and close to a favourite little café!

After a croissant filled with coffee flavoured mascarpone, it was time to go out into the Placa Comercial,

Where preparations were underway.

And then it began.

In the background, you can see the first layer climb on the shoulders of the base level, or Pinya as it’s known. The Pinya is wide and formed by the strongest of the group, to make a base that can support the weight of the rest and be a safety net should anyone fall.

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Several more layers are added, the Tronc, and finally, the littlest one scrambles atop, zoom in to see her nearly there, but I didn’t capture her with the camera, I was too entranced!

Once there, she gives a very quick wave, the crowd cheer and she’s back down the six layers beneath her, in just a few moments. Three troups performed that day, in competition, and each time I saw the wave, but my camera didn’t.

A Lunchtime Find

When it’s cold or wet I tend to stay on campus, or even walk the corridors of the main hospital building for my lunchtime stroll. Today the weather was perfect, so I went through the housing estate, because I knew my secret pathway was looking pretty.

I’m glad I went because the daffs won’t be around much longer. I lingered a few minutes and then it was time to stride out. Next I came across this van,

and just had to investigate. Who remembers the days when the baker, the fishmonger, the milkman, the green grocer and of course the Corona lorry and the ice cream man came?

Now in Exeter, the farm shop comes to some areas.

With lots of lovely local produce.

You’re probably wondering if I was tempted.

Well, as I’m over the baking phase I had in the autumn, because if you make cake you have to eat it don’t you? That’s bad news for a chubba-bubba, so it had to stop. The only thing to do is buy the odd treat or ten, so I chose a brownie which I’ve left in my desk drawer until Friday afternoon, when I’ll need – uh – deserve a treat for surviving the week.

This lovely lady runs the mobile shop. She was a delight to chat to and said Love Local Food is based at West Town Farm, where they have open days for families and schools. Their mission is to produce and promote sustainable food, reduce food miles and to engage with people in the community.

We all like our food to be fresh don’t we? It really does have more flavour if it’s local and in season, rather than being chilled for goodness knows how long, while it’s being flown hallway around the planet. Have a look at Love Local’s pages, there’s even a ted Talk. If you’re near Exeter, watch out for the happy food van!

Worth the wait?

After nearly ten years, the olive tree has started bearing fruit. Just a few last year, that never grew beyond the size of a currant. This year, they’ve survived the winter and are almost the size of the black olives I like. The birds have had a few pecks of them and spat them on the ground, so I guess they probably taste horrid.

I read somewhere that olives are cured for eating, I’ve no idea what with of how, but I expect they need a whole lot more heat and sun to be enjoyable. Some of you are in olive producing countries, perhaps you could tell me more?

A Victorian Post

My friend in Cornwall has a passion for post boxes, and I told her where to find a Victorian one, the oldest there are. Since then I’ve found several more very old ones, but never is pretty surroundings. This one is fifty yards from home and even though I’ve used it for years, I only recently realised it’s Victorian. I wonder how many other people have noticed.

It’s a shame that the Royal Mail doesn’t give it a nice new coat of paint, but if they painted all the boxes in the country they’d probably raise the cost of a stamp! Jude has a lovely collection in case you haven’t seen them . . .

Rani Sati

October 2005, I find myself in Jhunjhunu, Rajasthan. It’s early evening and I’ve just had one of the most moving experiences of my life. The elderly lady in the photo below has hugged me, put a red bindi on my forehead, and entered the temple I’ve just left.

I’d seen an Aarti ceremony in the Rani Sati temple, after  the congregation offered puja. The temple is at least four hundred years old and was built in memory of Narayani Bai who self emolliated and became Sati Ji.

The ceremony was incredibly loud, with drums and bells reverberating through every cell in my body. Water was sprinkled around, some of the crowd ran heir hands through flames, before circling the central shrine. We were welcome to take part but there were no expectations. Caught up in the atmosphere and the heady incense, I followed, with thoughts of Rani Sati, who was beloved to be an incarnation of the goddess Durga, running through my mind.

I have no words to describe the feelings, my journal that day had a line, ‘if I have to go home tomorrow, then it’s okay because I’ve had the experience of a lifetime’.

This post is for Paula’s Traces of the Past.

 

In Hope, a poem for Thursday

This Thursday instead of Lazy Poet, I’m re-posting a poem I wrote a few years ago, for International Women’s Day. Yes I know that was yesterday, but you know me by now, the other week that I got the day wrong for wordless Wednesday, and the syllable count wrong for LP!

In Hope

Cast aside your veil

Turn your face to the sun

Gather round the hearth

Your work today is done

Your sisters draw near

Feet planted to earth

They no longer fear

The lone walk on the trail

Your children breathe free

The mountains clear air

Well nourished with plenty

And wind blown away care

Your abundance is here

Take love in your stride

Future perfect and clear

Go forward with pride

Cast aside your veil

And no longer hide

Black and White Sunday, Countryside

The Otter estuary in the East Devon AONB has long been a favourite place of mine. If you park at Budleigh Salterton you can walk along the river up to Otterton, grab a pub lunch, visit a gallery and mill, then walk back down again. The last time I was there, I was too ill to walk very far at all, just far enough to snap a couple of photos.

The clouds performed rather well for a monochrome image, so I hope Paula will like it.

A hedge or a fence

If you’re not sure, it maybe a fedge, rather like the one growing at RHS Rosemoor. It was born around four years ago, when around fifteen varieties and mixed colours were planted. The willow is harvested each year and the stems have been used to create the fedge.

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The fedge will be clipped as it grows,  to maintain the geometric design.

The colours are planted in groups.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

See how the fedge blends with the background, creating strong vertical lines?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI was at Rosemoor for the sculpture in the garden, my first visit for several years. Each winter they have the sculpture exhibition, it blends beautifully with naked trees, the curves of the valley, hard landscaping and excellent design like the fedge.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAnd of course there is the hobbit house!