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| Somewhere on the road |
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| Puerto De La Selva |
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| Collioure, France |
It is about 1 in the afternoon and I am sitting in a rental car and we are driving through mountains that envelop the South of France. The windows are down and my arms are swaying in the wind, the air clean, brisk. It was supposed to rain but instead the sun is beaming over us.
This is our last stop on this rather impetuous road trip. So far, we have explored three other places in Northern Spain. The first place was a very small pebble-covered beach in Costa Brava called Sa Tuna. After driving up hilly roads and across very sharp curves early on Friday morning, we finally stumbled upon this cozy little village tucked inside the hills of Costa Brava. It is quiet except for the waves softly rifting against the rocks in the background and there is outdoor seating at a small restaurant that overlooks the Spanish architecture-designed houses that sit on a hill near the water. I order a glass of wine. I heard about this place from a friend and I decided to take my mom since she is in town visiting. She is only in Europe for the weekend and that is enough time for a road trip, I thought.
During lunch, our Spanish waiter brought us blankets because the cold afternoon wind was a little too strong, and after our meal he offered us complimentary "chupitos" which we happily took. Normally I don't take shots, but these were the type you could willingly sip on.
After having lunch, wine, chupitos, and exploring the mountainous area further up from the village, it was time to go to our next destination: Cadaqués, the artist district. Several artists had lived in and visited this small town, including surrealist Salvador Dalí, so we walked up to the small village next to the town where Dalí' kept a home. Later in the afternoon, I sat and had a coffee across from the shoreline. Cadaqués felt more Mediterranean than all the other places I've visited with its smell and the architecture and the harbor. As I walked through the narrow streets passing vine-covered houses with bright colored doors I understood why so many artists gained inspiration from their stay here.
After Cadaqués, we drove a little further up to Port De La Selva, where we would spend the night. It was a town about 20 minutes away on the northern coast of Cap de Creus. A fishing port, mostly, but in the morning we woke up for the sunrise and we walked up the village and came across a more remote part of the town. We walked across rocks that enveloped crystal clear waters. We watched the sun come up on a hill draped by pink flowers.
We had breakfast shortly after, at an outdoor café that overlooked the water. I had toast and a coffee and freshly squeezed zumo de naranja and then we were back on the road toward our next destination: France.
We drove to France on a very winding road tucked inside the mountains that towered over us. It was only about a 45 minute drive from where we were staying, and we pulled over once we were on the border. The town we found was Collioure, which is in Southern France but also a part of the Catalan culture. I fell in love with it the moment I stepped out of the car. The bright-colored architecture, pebble covered streets and clear, blue waters. As I walked around and heard people speaking, I heard no english and that comforted me. There was no tourism. Still, everybody was so friendly even if it was difficult to communicate.
We stayed in this town for most of the day doing nothing in particular. We walked through narrow streets past creperies and shops and cafés, we took a nap on the sand facing the water underneath the sun, we walked across the bell tower overlooking the entire city, we ate dinner outside, and we explored the entire town stopping regularly to take it all in.
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| Puerto De La Selva |
Since this part of France is a part of the Catalan culture, they were celebrating Sant Jordi as they were in Spain, so we got a little preview of the holiday. Sant Jordi is the most romantic day of the year in this culture, particularly Barcelona. It is a day of roses and books similar to our Valentine's Day. Books and flower stands are set up throughout the city and traditionally couples exchange gifts: a book for the man and a rose for the woman. I walked across a small street that was framed by different stands and people surrounding them, and I could smell the scent of roses as I watched people pick up books in French and give them to their loved one. I felt a strange kind of happiness.
I have a certain attachment to Europe that might never go away. Right now I am back in the city and I am writing from my favorite café and I am thinking of the way everything is so alive here, of how we are constantly celebrating life, and I am thinking of how loneliness doesn't really exist. I have a certain attachment to this way of life. It's going to be hard to say good-bye, but now I know how easily I am able to adapt to new environments.
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| Collioure, France |
