This is Semana Santa, holy week, and almost every town in Spain has their processions. Every night of the week. They tend to be really serious and a bit dark in Castilla, slightly exaggerated in Andalusia, and – as we saw tonight in Blanes – maybe a bit too matter of fact in Catalunya. It was this band of Roman soldiers marching through every street of the town centre, pretty swiftly, probably in search of Jesus. When he, if I remember correctly, was having dinner with his friends.
The random pictures below show a little of what today was like: a full moon at night on our way back home. Empty plates in our favourite Blanes Bar where the waiter had spent the first four years of his life in Düsseldorf and is quickly becoming our best friend, proudly practicing his German with us. Barrels of ordinary wine, sweet desert wine and absinthe in a supermarket that has tons of plastic bottles ready to be passed on to customers who want to buy that stuff by the litre, starting at €1.45. Lunch under blue skies in a beach restaurant. And, finally, a note around the hotel telling guests that they will have to pay if the ink from their new tattoos should destroy the bed linen; we haven’t seen anyone with a tattoo in the hotel so far, but maybe clientele changes in the summer months?
Amongst all the excitement of today, the best moment was when an elderly lady with a yellow ribbon (showing her support for the catalan prisoners) got to talk to us during the Roman Soldiers’ march through the town. She was really taken by Pádraig – but, in a very strange twist, exclusively by the size of his feet. Size 50! Unbelievable. But no reason to despair. There is this shop in Barcelona…. and then she gave us directions I’ve sadly forgotten. It was so nice, so normal, and so unexpected. The size of Pádraig’s feet. In terms of making contact with Pádraig, this was a resounding first!