Category: Spain

Reflections on Phone Photography

I told Tina in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t be joining in her Lens-Artists Challenge: Phone Photography, as my antique bargain-basement phone and I weren’t up to the job. She wasn’t having that, so I went and had a trawl.

And discovered that reflections seemed to come up as a theme that had worked quite well on days when I hadn’t got a camera to hand.

These were the first two I came across, both from Cosmo-Caixa Science Museum in Barcelona.

Walking down to the lower galleries.
The magnificent aquarium set in a would-be South American rainforest.

Still in Spain, we’ll pop to Valencia and its ancient Gothic bridge above the Turia Gardens.

Puente de la Trinidad, Valencia

And now we’ll return to England, and the Leeds-Liverpool Canal at Gargrave, where one day, this was the scene we saw as we walked under a bridge there.

Under a canal bridge near Gargarve.

And finally, a little gallery of other watery local photos- and that includes my header image too.

Thanks Tina. I’m glad you made me dig these out. Perhaps my phone doesn’t do so badly after all …. After all, that last photo got me second place in a public vote at Masham Sheep Fair the other year (I got first place too, but that wasn’t a reflection shot).

Oh Look! There’s Bird on the Roof

I thought of Brian on Sunday. Here’s why. Brian is the blogger charged with introducing this week’s theme for Monochrome Madness. And he’s chosen ‘On the Roof’.

I was with the family in Borough Market on Sunday. And we were having fun as we picnicked, at the expense of this poor gull try to land – time after time after time – on the roof of one of the sales kiosks.

Every time his feet touched down, he slithered and skittered, unable to find any purchase, until at the bottom, he more or less tumbled off … again. He persisted and persisted until, finally…

Here are some more herring gulls, all in either Whitby or Staithes: the seaside in fact. Perhaps they feel more at home and comfortable.

Here are birds who are definitely at home on a roof. Storks. A roof’s the perfect place for nest-building and raising a family. Let’s go to Tudela in Spain.

We could go to North Macedonia now, and stay in a hotel crowded with peacocks. One even had to escape to the roof for a bit of peace.

Back home for some more domestic shots: a crow on a nearby chimney pot, and a robin on the roof of a nearby bird house (does that count? I think so.)

We’ll finish off with a shot to complement the featured photo. Here’s a line of pigeons on some ridge tiles. They echo the ones which begin the post: a host of ceramic cockatoos (?) decorating the roof of a house in Busan, South Korea.

Thanks for a fun challenge, Brian!

Park-Dwelling Parakeets

The parakeets that live round and about Ciutadella Park in Barcelona are opportunists. They know that all they have to do is hang around tourists, looking winsome, and the next meal will appear. If they’re lucky, maybe specially purchased nuts and seeds from equally opportunist street vendors. Otherwise, croissant crumbs and biscuits. They don’t seem fussy.

For Monday Portrait.

‘Rain, Rain, Go to Spain!’ – Last on the Card

We’re back in England after our three weeks with the Spanish branch of the family. Identikit weather, in Spain, travelling back through France and here in the UK. Wet. Rather cold.

As my last two photos of the month show. Here we are driving through France …

That’s a shot from my phone. My camera tells a similar story. Our last afternoon in France was in Caen, where it was largely … raining. As the sun set, the rain went briefly away, so here’s sundown over a street busy with its late-in-the-day market.

For Brian’s Last on the Card.

Love your Library in Premià de Dalt 

Premià de Dalt is Premià de Mar’s slightly posher sister, just up the hill from here. It has an older town centre, with a church dating from the 10th century, and tantalising views of the sea far below. And a population of only 10,000.

I went to explore by myself on Friday. Malcolm wasn’t feeling so good, and that very night, Emily and I were due to fall victim to a thoroughly nasty sickness bug. It’s been that sort of holiday. Weather (i), transport limitations (ii) and ill- health (iii) have all been conspiring against us. (i) is about to hit again, (ii) are still with us, and (iii) is still afflicting Malcolm.

One of my discoveries was the town’s library. I was impressed. It’s situated by a local park, and there’s a large balcony with tables and chairs so you can read or study there in the fresh air.

It’s well-stocked.

Here are the books available if you’re studying English:

… or just reading in English. There were about 100 books to choose from – the old classics and up-to-the-minute reading choices.

I couldn’t take photos of the study area or the children’s library without expressly seeking permission from those using the spaces. So here’s a display from the chidren’s area.

The feel is very different from a British community library. When I’m ‘on duty’ in our local one, we talk about our tasks together in normal speaking voices, chat with friends who come to exchange their books, and take little notice as the children in the Junior Library enjoy a noisy morning music session or listen to stories on certain mornings of the week. Here in Spain are notices encouraging silence, in the way I remember from my childhood. I’m happy with both.

But in case it all sounds a bit serious to you. Here’s the fellow who welcomes you into the library, then shepherds you out.

Meanwhile, on her way home from work, Emily had popped into their local library to get books for the children.

Who knew that Winnie the Witch would be called Brunhilda in Catalan? Or that she would be so popular for so long? My children, all parents themselves, enjoyed her books decades ago.

I’ll hold over my own reading choices. They’ll keep.

For Rebecca’s Love your Library.

It’s All About the Bubbles

Arc de Triomf is slap-bang in Tourist Central in Barcelona. It is nevertheless a part of the city I enjoy, because it’s spacious enough never to feel crowded, and is near one of the city’s green lungs,  Parc de la Ciutadella with its tropical garden the Umbracle, and its winter garden – the Hivernacle.

Parakeets sit around waiting to be fed, and street entertainers ply their trade. The other day, it was a man floating bevies of bubbles into the skies.

For Leanne’s Monochrome Madness

Parc del Laberint d’Horta

Exactly two years ago, staying with Team Catalonia, I took myself off to Parc del Labirint d’Horta in the outskirts of Barcelona, and wrote about it here. I remember a balmy day, even though it was November, with tree-lined avenues casting shadows before me as I walked.

Oh, and there was a maze too. But I wrote about it in that post I’ve just mentioned.

For Becky’s NovemberShadows.

PS. I’ve just had a birthday card from WordPress. I’ve been blogging for sixteen years! Apparently. Thanks to all of you who’ve been ‘blogging pals’ for much of that time. You’re the ones who make it all such fun.

Ruined Statuary

Today, for Leanne’s Monochrome Madness, Sarah of Travel with Me invites us to photograph ruins. I could so easily take you (yet again) to my favourite ruined abbeys: Fountains Abbey, Jervaulx, or Rievaulx. But Sarah herself has shown Fountains Abbey off in her post. I could take you to ruins all over this country and beyond. Instead, I thought that I’d show you not buildings, but their statues, often ruined by weather, by warfare, or quite simply the passage of time.

Best start in Rievaulx though, where carvings in its museum gave me the idea.

Off to North Eastern France, where the churches and cathedrals of Rheims, Laon and Tournus (to name but a few) have all mightily suffered from the weather eating into into the local limestone from which these were built.

And in Troyes, wooden buildings have taken a weather-beating too.

A church in Bamberg has suffered mightily from having been contructed from limestone.

But even more recent buildings have been ruined a bit. Come to Hartlepool with me.

Let’s finish off by disobeying the challenge completely, at Sant Julia church, in Argentona, Catalonia. Its gargoyles were so ruined they pulled them down. And replaced them. Like this.

By the time you read this we will be at least half way down England, in transit for eastern France – Alsace. So you won’t get prompt responses to any comments I’m afraid, as we shan’t finish travelling till Friday. But I will send a postcard before the weekend is out!