There were Spanish flags galore in Malaga and Cartagena. In Barcelona ...
... there are flags and signs ...
... and bitter graffiti.
Neighbourly relations must be strained in a building with both Catalan and Spanish flags.
I hurry to the Catalan Parliament from which Madrid has just expelled the independence-minded government ... and am somewhat surprised to find it more peaceful than I am after a glass or two of sangria.
A police car, but with no signs of police, is parked in front ...
... barricades have been tidily put aside ...
... and banners calling for freedom look a little sad. But, it’s Sunday and I am left watching, rather than angry demonstrations ...
... families out for a walk ...
... and posing cheerfully in front of the empty parliament. My old reporter’s curiosity satisfied, I am free to idly wander one of my favourite ports.
And so here are some impressions:
People watching.
'Twirl, Sparkle, Shine' in the home of Futbol Club Barcelona, known locally as Barça.
Hey, kick the ball! or, as it's Catalan dog, Hey, xut la pilota!
What are they looking at?
Wrapped up to catch some November sun ... temperature in the high teens Celsius or mid sixties Fahrenheit.
Speaking, as I was earlier, of sangria, time for a sidewalk lunch at a cafe I know, Lucano Restaurante - Career de Sardenya 207 at Carrer de la Diputació. Excellent paella, but remember, chefs can change and restaurants close.
For that matter, political chefs can change and parliaments close, but Catalan independence will simmer and boil for years to come.
For that matter, political chefs can change and parliaments close, but Catalan independence will simmer and boil for years to come.
