Went to a calçotada yesterday in a neighbouring village. Felt like I was in a movie at times, you know those ones that are selling the Mediterranean life, like that Tuscan one?
Long sun-dappled tables weighted with delicious food and wine and multi-lingual conversations going on around it while children play in the background and an olive-wood fire smokes in the distance on which the food has been cooked?
That was it.
They were a fascinating and wildly international lot and as a result the conversation was very Spanish - the lingua franca - except my little corner of it. They are a delightful family, my hosts, three fifths of whom I have taught English. One of the kids, now pushing 18, sat beside me. Handy having an 18 year old boy next to you at a big feed, I just kept passing stuff onto his plate and it kept disappearing inside him. Third helping of botifarra appears? GONE!
He is a neat bright kid too. Helpful translator as well when I got lost.
He and I determinedely spoke Catalan to everyone - rather than Spanish - when we didn't speak English. The man on my left was a delight too, older (late 60's?) and architect, very well read - I love to sit with people I can talk books with! - and fascinating. His wife was also interesting, though she only spoke Spanish.
I have to say I was amazed how well I understood what was going on, when I listened hard......those Spanish lessons are paying off anyway.
We, of course, ate calçots with homemade sauce, botifarra and costelles (ribs), bread, tiramiso and chocolate muffins and chocolate crisps that I brought, lots of wine, water and some cava that I also handed over to the boy....his parents were right there, it is Spain.....
Got home, had a bath and went to bed with the Murakami book.
Pretty darned delightful day!