It is a mini Argelès vacation. I’ve finished Triple Deckers (which is now being proofed by friends to scare away all typos) and I am all caught up on my journalistic stories. Today the sky was blue. I walked to the beach and settled on a bench where I’d never sat before. Rather than face the water I was looking in the direciton of the 14th century fortress Madeloch perched on the middle mountain surrounding the bay.
It had protected France against Spain, Spain against France and Majorca against whoever.
My mind wandered to those who had lived in this village long before the palms were planted lined up in perfect symmetry and brick walkways were flanked by cafés and boutiques. This village only began to attract tourist in the last 100 years or so of its 1000+ year history. For the intervening centuries farmers and fishermen must have walked where I sat.
Today is was couples holding hands, a roller bladder, a lanky young man in an orange T-shirt and a cocker puppy who thought it was fun to pull back on his leash. Heel or à pied was not in his vocabulary yet.
No one could tell the temperature from people’s dress. Some wore sweaters but a couple of young women had spaghetti strap shirts without any sign of goose flesh.
It today was in the late 1930s I am sure refugees from Franco would have been where I was.
A few of the cafés and boutiques were open, others were painting and hammering for the tourist season. Some are still boarded up.
In my pocket I had my ticket to go back to Genève, where my roommate has complained about the cold. I’m a little old for the university spring break, but the feeling doesn’t have an age limit.
Of course, with the strikes getting back might be harder, but as they say on verra.
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