Empordaguia

The philosopher Walter Benjamin, symbol of all refugees, is a key to understanding this town. Located in a unique countryside and preserved from speculative developments, Portbou faces the future secure in its values of peace and history.

This town lies in a narrow bay that was once a refuge for fishermen. It is closely linked to the railway and the border. France and Spain inaugurated their railway link in 1876, and an urban nucleus of increasing economic importance developed. The impressive station, which stands above the town with its grand and luminous marquee, is a twin of the França station in Barcelona, opened in 1929 for the Universal Exhibition of 1929. The cathedral-like, neo-gothic church of Santa Maria was built by the railwaymen and rebuilt after the war. It faces the station, not the village. The apogee of cross-border commerce was during the 1960s. The town was called Can Seixante (Place of the 60), because there were more than 70 customs agencies.  The motorway through La Jonquera and, later, the disappearing borders of the EU, ended this business. This town with its steps and handrails swings with time. Modernist houses are proof of past splendour, as are buildings such as the Republican town hall. The monument to Walter Benjamin, erected by German intellectuals in 1990 by the cemetery, commemorates this man from the Frankfurt School. The philosopher died in strange circumstances in 1940 after crossing the border. He was to have been returned by the Franco regime to Nazi-occupied France. Today, a foundation and many events commemorate Benjamin each September. This is an important stimulus for the town. The monument, a tube-shaped iron structure balanced on the cliffs above the port, tells us of sores and pain. It reminds us of the many refugees that die on borders for economic or political reasons, or for lack of any reason. The cemetery on the hill dominates the bay and is one of the most beautiful places in the Empordà. The Tramuntana elevates the silence of the dead. Full of life in summer, during winter Portbou becomes a romantic place to recover time and memories. Here we taste the border and feel the weight of history. We remember the writings of Josep Pla, who travelled many times through this station and used to eat in the canteen where Senyor Granollers ruled at the hearth. Those were the days in which Portbou was the entrance to France and Europe for a dismal Spain ruled by Franco. Portbou, battered by the Tramuntana, embraces the traveller with the full weight of its solid and durable presence. Heir to frontiers that have disappeared, it tells us how difficult mental borders are to vanquish. Portbou, a mirage of stone beaches between broom and Rosemary. //MOISÈS DE PABLO