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  3. THE EMPORDà OF JORDI ESTEVA.

The Empordà of Jordi Esteva.

moli-de-jafre

I remember the old road from Palafrugell to Calella. Cypress and Pine tress sped past the window of the car. Suddenly, the Mediterranean appeared, silver gleaming currents leading to the Formigues Islands. Then the belfry would arise, and the first white houses. Cicadas sang, and I was overwhelmed with happiness. I Knew that a few minutes later I would be swimming in a blue world, checking out the fish, and perhaps even finding a “morena” hiding in a cave. In the natural pools I’d find sea urchins, anemones, sea tomatoes and small, elongated fish that were cousins of tropical gobies that crawl around in ponds left behind by the tide; they seem to be the missing link between fish and reptiles.

In those days men fished to make a living, and women in black mended very long nets on the beach of Canyadell. Shops sold herrings neatly laid out in boxes like the spokes of a wheel; they also had oil lamps, all types of rope, and worms for bait.  Sometimes at night, the old people would drink cremat and listen to havaneres in Les Voltes.

I remember the hinterland through which I often roamed with my father and his friend, senyor Pla from Palafrugell, an elegant person with southern-looking features who was quite unlike what people said. We would visit old Masias with chain curtains to keep out flies. In the hallways, old photos of dressed up grandparents would be displayed, or perhaps of a son in uniform. There was always an old, fat cat sleeping in a rocking chair. An army of scatterbrained chicken would go in and out without deciding which way to go. By the well, succulents grew in tins or in broken earthenware pots. People were trustful, and there would always be a pitcher of fresh water with anise or a glass of wine for visitors. This was the Empordà that I would rediscover decades later reading Norman Lewis’ wonderful “Voices from another Sea.” This I believe to be the most accomplished portrait of the Empordà in those days; I know fans of Josep Pla will disagree, but I remember his eternal bad mood, complaining about everybody in the restaurants of Palafrugell.

Life took me away, and I hardly came to the Empordà for two long decades. Then I settled down in a small village with my partner, my dog, and four cats. Today I watch as the land is subdivided, made ugly, and destroyed with strange fury. But I carry around my Empordà within myself, and I will continue to cherish it when they end up changing it, just like the suffering Toscana, into another Vallés. Then I will move on with my partner and my animals..//

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