Siestas, not power naps

To be honest I have not done much over the past couple of days. I have just been enjoying the warm humid Mediterranean air that encourages you to just hang around in shorts and flip-flops and keep yourself in a vertical position to the extent possible. I have swapped power naps with siestas. Same concept, but very different execution! I am trying to fall into the rhythm of my little pueblo here. As they say in Spain, there are more people on the streets at 3 in the morning than at 3 in the afternoon. All the shops close during the middle of the day, so why not siesta your way through those hours. Great concept.

I went for a run today at 8pm when the temperature had dropped sufficiently for a Scandinavian to venture out. I went down to the river bed that runs at the outskirts of the town. It is completely dried out at this time of the year, so it is a great place to run. It took me out under the highway and into mountains on the other side. 'Mountains' may be a relative word here. The locals would probably just call them 'hills', but being from Denmark I insist that they indeed are mountains. I found a dirt trail that took me up-hill (because you cannot say 'up-mountain') and after about 20 minutes I found myself standing on a ridge looking into the next valley. Here was another little pueblo with white houses and what from the distance appeared to be a church. The sun was setting and it looked so quiet and peaceful. I had not met anyone on my way and there was not a single person to be seen anywhere. It became one of those few quiet moments, where you remind yourself that life is more than the fast lane on the information-superhighway. Next time I will make sure I bring a camera.

My Little Pueblo

It is past midnight and the air is full of drums, music and fire crackers. The streets are packed with people, some are dancing through the streets, others are watching. I am not in doubt that I have left Switzerland. 'My Little Pueblo' (pueblo = village) as I like to call St. Pere de Ribes (located 30km south of Barcelona) is celebrating its 'Fiesta mayor'. Most towns in Spain have a Fiesta Mayor, which is the celebration of the saint of the town. In the case of St. Pere the saint is Saint Peter.

St. Pere de Ribes is technically too large to qualify as a 'pueblo', but to me it is just that. It is like taken out of a movie; narrow streets and mediterranean style houses, a little square in the middle with a catholic church that rings its bells every 15 minutes. Life happens at a pace here that cannot stress anyone. On top of that I am enjoying the local food and a lot of sleep.

Thorsten

'Castellets' - the human castles - is another Catelonian specialty. The castles I saw them build yesterday were 8 'stories' high, the top level manned by two 6-year old kids. You can see one of them on the way up with a red helmet near the top on the left side.


The 'Collas', which are groups of neighbors and friends, prepare dances with drums and firecrackers. The firecrackers - that look like cigars - are placed on the end of a stick and lit. They spin and spread sparks everywhere before they explode with a large bang.


A dragon spraying fire is another of the local traditions.


Giant dolls dancing is a tradition of Eastern Spain.