HISTORY, ARCHITECTURE & LIGHT IN LA SEU DE PALMA

Today, Claire Fontaine and The Grandma have arrived in Palma just in time to catch the figure-eight light phenomenon at the Cathedral. It has been a very cloudy day, and the Sun has decided not to make an appearance, but simply being in Palma is too great a gift to let that dampen their spirits.

The two of them will spend a few days in the Serra de Tramuntana visiting Johann and other friends on the island, while Joseph de Ca'th Lon and Alessandra enjoy some football and culture in Piedmont. This evening, there is a very interesting UWCL match taking place in Torino.

There are buildings that belong to a city, and there are buildings that become the very soul of a place. The Cathedral of Santa Maria of Palma, universally known as La Seu, undoubtedly belongs to the second category.

Rising majestically above the ancient walls of Palma, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, the cathedral has welcomed sailors, travellers and visitors for centuries. Its extraordinary silhouette, standing beside the Royal Palace of La Almudaina, is one of the most magnificent sights in the Mediterranean.

For those arriving in Mallorca by sea, La Seu is much more than an architectural landmark. It is a reminder of the island's history, its medieval kingdom, its cultural heritage and its enduring relationship with the sea.

Today, 11 November, Saint Martin's Day, Claire Fontaine and The Grandma have travelled to Palma to enjoy one of the cathedral's most fascinating secrets: the extraordinary Festival of Light.

The history of La Seu is closely connected with the medieval Kingdom of Mallorca. In 1229, King Jaume I conquered Madina Mayurqa, bringing the island under Christian rule. The city's principal mosque was subsequently consecrated for Christian worship, and plans were made to construct a great cathedral dedicated to the Virgin Mary. However, the monumental building we admire today began to take shape particularly during the reign of Jaume II of Mallorca, who ruled from 1276 to 1311.

The cathedral became a symbol of the new kingdom's religious and political identity. Its Royal Chapel and Chapel of the Trinity were closely associated with the Mallorcan monarchy, whose history remains embedded in the building's stones. Construction continued for centuries, and the main structure was finally completed during the seventeenth century.

La Seu is therefore not merely a medieval monument. It is a remarkable architectural record of Mallorca's history, reflecting the ambitions, beliefs and artistic achievements of successive generations.

La Seu is one of the great masterpieces of Mediterranean Gothic architecture. Its soaring columns, immense vaults and extraordinary proportions create an overwhelming sensation of height, space and harmony. Unlike the darker interiors of many medieval churches, Palma Cathedral seems to embrace the Mediterranean sunlight.

Light enters through its numerous stained-glass windows, transforming the vast stone interior into a constantly changing landscape of colours and shadows. Its enormous eastern rose window, often called the Gothic Eye, is among the most remarkable features of the building. Composed of 1,115 pieces of coloured glass, it creates a spectacular display of geometric patterns and light.

Standing beneath the vaults of La Seu, visitors can appreciate how medieval architects combined engineering, geometry, religious symbolism and artistic imagination to create something truly extraordinary.

The cathedral is a monument to human ingenuity, but also to the generations of anonymous craftsmen who transformed stone, glass and mathematical knowledge into beauty.

At the beginning of the twentieth century, another extraordinary chapter began in the history of La Seu. Antoni Gaudí, one of Catalunya's most celebrated architects, was invited by Bishop Pere Joan Campins to reorganise the cathedral's interior. Between 1904 and 1915, Gaudí undertook an ambitious liturgical restoration intended to recover the original spatial clarity of the Gothic building and bring the congregation closer to the religious ceremonies. He rearranged elements of the choir, improved the visibility of the high altar and introduced new decorative and lighting features. Among his most striking contributions is the extraordinary canopy suspended above the altar, an innovative structure that combines religious symbolism, geometry and artistic experimentation.

Gaudí also designed remarkable decorative elements and lighting arrangements, integrating his personal artistic language into the medieval surroundings. His intervention was not an attempt to replace Gothic architecture with Modernisme. Rather, it was a dialogue between different centuries, demonstrating how a historic monument can remain alive through artistic transformation.

Today, La Seu preserves this fascinating encounter between medieval craftsmanship and modern creativity.

Twice a year, on 2 February, the Feast of Candlemas, and 11 November, Saint Martin's Day, La Seu becomes the setting for an extraordinary astronomical and optical phenomenon. Shortly after sunrise, sunlight passes through the cathedral's great eastern rose window and projects its colourful image onto the interior wall of the opposite façade. For a few precious moments, the projected circle appears immediately beneath the western rose window, creating the shape of a gigantic figure eight. This remarkable spectacle is known as El Vuit de la Seu, or The Eight of the Cathedral, and forms part of the traditional Festa de la Llum, the Festival of Light. The phenomenon results from the relationship between the cathedral's orientation, its architectural proportions, the position of the rose windows and the seasonal movement of the Sun across the sky. It is a beautiful demonstration of the meeting between geometry, astronomy and architecture. Although the cathedral was built centuries before modern astronomical instruments, its architecture reveals the importance of observing the natural world and understanding the behaviour of light. Whether the phenomenon was deliberately planned in its present form remains a matter of historical interpretation. What is certain is that the resulting spectacle has become one of Mallorca's most treasured traditions. For a brief moment, the cathedral itself becomes a magnificent instrument of light.

The date of 11 November also invites us to remember Saint Martin of Tours, one of the most influential saints of medieval Christianity. Born in the fourth century, Martin served as a Roman soldier before embracing religious life and eventually becoming Bishop of Tours. According to his most famous legend, he encountered a poor man suffering from the cold and divided his military cloak into two pieces, giving one half to the stranger. That night, Martin reportedly dreamed that Christ was wearing the piece of cloak he had shared. The story became a powerful symbol of compassion, generosity and Christian charity. Because of his military background and his traditional representation on horseback, Saint Martin became particularly important in medieval military and equestrian culture.

Long before Saint George became one of the most celebrated models of Christian knighthood, Martin's image as a mounted soldier had already acquired considerable religious significance. Their legends, however, communicate different ideals: Saint Martin represents generosity and mercy, while Saint George, the legendary dragon-slayer, became an emblem of courage, protection and victory over evil.

Both saints remind us that medieval chivalry was associated not only with military strength but also with moral and spiritual values.

As The Grandma and Claire Fontaine leave the cathedral, the Mediterranean sunlight starts to illuminate its ancient walls. La Seu has witnessed the rise and transformation of kingdoms, the evolution of artistic styles and the passage of countless generations. Its stones preserve history. Its vaults express human ambition. Its stained-glass windows transform sunlight into colour. And twice a year, when the Sun reaches the right position in the sky, the cathedral reveals one of its most extraordinary secrets. Perhaps that is the true magnificence of La Seu: it is not simply a monument to be admired, but a place where history, science, art and nature continue to meet.

Unfortunately, this year's Saint Martin's Day brought an unexpected guest: clouds. Around 1,900 visitors gathered to witness the spectacle, but the Sun remained hidden, reminding everyone that even the most magnificent architecture must sometimes surrender to nature.

Some buildings are made of stone. Others seem to be made of history and light. La Seu is both.

More information: Catedral de Mallorca

La línia recta és dels homes; la corba és de Déu.

The straight line belongs to man; the curve belongs to God.

Antoni Gaudí

SESAME STREET. LEARNING, LAUGHTER & HUMAN VALUES

Today, The Grandma would like to join in all the congratulations and recognition that Sesame Street is receiving for its 57th anniversary.

On November 10, 1969, a very special street opened its doors to the world. It was not an ordinary street. It was a place where birds could talk, monsters could count, cookies could become an obsession, and children could discover the wonders of knowledge through music, laughter and friendship.

Its name was Sesame Street, and it would change the history of educational television forever. Created by Joan Ganz Cooney and Lloyd Morrisett, with the extraordinary contribution of Jim Henson and his Muppets, Sesame Street was born from a revolutionary educational idea: television could become a powerful instrument for learning, especially for children who had fewer educational opportunities.

The programme combined entertainment with a carefully designed curriculum developed with the participation of educators, psychologists and researchers. But its greatest achievement was perhaps something even more important: it made children fall in love with learning.

Sesame Street understood something that traditional education sometimes forgot: children learn better when they are emotionally involved, curious and happy. Letters became adventures. Numbers became songs. Colours, shapes and words became part of everyday life. Repetition was not boring because it was accompanied by humour, rhythm and imagination. Mistakes were not failures but opportunities to try again.

Music played a fundamental role in this educational revolution. Songs helped children remember concepts, develop language skills, recognise emotions and participate actively in the learning process. The programme also recognised that children learn through observation, imitation, experimentation and social interaction.

Long before expressions such as emotional learning, inclusive education and learning through play became common in educational discussions, Sesame Street was already putting many of these principles into practice.

One of the most extraordinary aspects of Sesame Street was its ethical and social commitment. At a time when American society was struggling with racial discrimination, inequality and social divisions, the programme presented a multicultural neighbourhood where people of different backgrounds lived, worked, played and learned together. Diversity was not presented as a problem to be solved, but as a natural and valuable part of everyday life.

Sesame Street taught children to respect differences, share what they had, listen to others, recognise emotions and understand the importance of kindness. It also showed that nobody needed to be perfect to deserve friendship, affection or respect. Its characters experienced frustration, jealousy, sadness, fear and disappointment. However, they also learned to apologise, cooperate, forgive and help one another.

Sesame Street did not simply prepare children for school. It helped prepare them for life. 

The unforgettable characters created by Jim Henson and his collaborators became much more than television puppets. For millions of children, they were companions in the adventure of growing up.

Big Bird, with his enormous yellow feathers and innocent curiosity, represented the child who constantly asks questions and discovers the world with wonder.

Bert and Ernie showed us that friendship does not require people to have identical personalities. Their differences created hilarious situations, but affection and loyalty always brought them together.

Cookie Monster, with his irresistible passion for cookies, reminded us that enthusiasm, humour and imperfection are part of human nature.

Oscar the Grouch, living in his rubbish bin and complaining about almost everything, demonstrated that even the grumpiest neighbour deserves a place in the community.

Grover, enthusiastic, clumsy and endlessly determined, taught us that good intentions matter and that making mistakes is part of learning.

Count von Count transformed mathematics into an amusing adventure, proving that numbers could be fascinating rather than frightening.

And later generations discovered other beloved characters, including Elmo, whose curiosity, affection and emotional openness continued the programme's educational mission.

Each character had a distinctive personality, strengths and weaknesses. Together, they represented a simple but powerful message: we are all different, we all have something to contribute, and we can all learn from one another.

Sesame Street would not have been the same without its music. Its songs were not simply entertaining interruptions. They were carefully integrated into the learning process, helping children develop memory, vocabulary, pronunciation, rhythm and emotional awareness.

The programme never underestimated children's intelligence. Instead, it invited them to discover jokes, recognise absurd situations, anticipate consequences and laugh at unexpected outcomes. Children were not passive spectators. They were encouraged to answer questions, sing, count, observe and participate. Learning became an active experience. And perhaps that is why so many of us still remember its melodies, characters and stories more than half a century later.

Fifty-seven years after its first broadcast, Sesame Street remains a remarkable example of what education can achieve when creativity, scientific knowledge and social responsibility work together. Its legacy goes far beyond television. It reminds teachers that education should be accessible, meaningful and enjoyable. It reminds families that everyday experiences provide countless opportunities to learn. And it reminds society that investing in children's education means investing in a more compassionate and inclusive future.

For those of us who grew up with Sesame Street, its characters were not simply entertainers appearing on a television screen. They were our first travelling companions on a lifelong journey of discovery. They taught us letters and numbers, but also friendship, patience, empathy, tolerance and respect. They made us laugh when we made mistakes and encouraged us to keep trying. They helped us understand that curiosity is a gift and that learning does not end when a television programme finishes or when a school bell rings.

Today, as we celebrate the anniversary of this extraordinary educational project, perhaps the most important lesson is also the simplest: Education is not only about teaching children what they need to know. It is about helping them become the people they have the potential to be.

Sesame Street taught us our ABCs and 123s, but its greatest lesson was that kindness, curiosity and friendship are the foundations of a better world.

Happy birthday, Sesame Street!

Thank you for the music, the laughter, the friendship and the lessons.

And above all, thank you for teaching us that the world becomes a better place when we learn together.

More information: Sesame Street

The aim of the show is really 
to foster mutual respect for one another.

Joan Ganz Cooney

'WIR SIND DAS VOLK', FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL

Today, on the anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, Claire Fontaine and The Grandma hold a very special memory of their friend Johann, and of the conversations they had with him at his home in Lloseta about his experiences in the GDR.

As Johann always says: Freedom is not just being able to cross a border; it is being able to decide which path you want to follow.

The November sun was shining over Lloseta, a small town at the foot of the Serra de Tramuntana, in Mallorca. Johann sat on his terrace, holding a cup of coffee. The mountains looked peaceful, and the Mediterranean light illuminated the olive trees in his garden. He was eighty-three years old.

On the table lay an old black-and-white photograph of Dresden, his birthplace, and a small piece of concrete covered in faded graffiti. It was a fragment of the Berlin Wall. Every year, on 9 November, Johann took it out of a wooden box. It reminded him of a world that no longer existed.

Johann was born in Dresden in 1943, when the Second World War was devastating Europe. He was too young to remember the bombing of Dresden in February 1945, but his parents never forgot it. They spoke about destroyed buildings, lost neighbours, hunger, fear and the terrible consequences of a war unleashed by Nazi Germany. When the war ended, Germany was defeated, occupied and divided into four zones controlled by the United States, the United Kingdom, France and the Soviet Union. Berlin, although situated inside the Soviet occupation zone, was also divided into four sectors.

In 1949, two German states emerged: the Federal Republic of Germany in the West and the German Democratic Republic in the East. 

Johann grew up in the GDR. He went to school, found a job, married and raised a family. The state provided education, healthcare and employment, but everyday life was also shaped by shortages, political restrictions and limited personal choices. He remembered that many people valued the security of their jobs and the social services they received. However, there were things that money, employment and public services could not replace.

Freedom of expression. Freedom of movement. Freedom to disagree. Freedom to decide where to live.

The Ministry for State Security, better known as the Stasi, maintained an extensive surveillance network. Citizens could be monitored, questioned or punished for opposing the political system. Johann had learned to be careful about what he said and to whom he said it.

On 13 August 1961, East German authorities began sealing the border between East and West Berlin. 

Johann was eighteen years old. What began with barbed wire and barriers became a complex system of concrete walls, watchtowers, armed guards and restricted areas. Families were separated. Friends could no longer visit one another freely. For the next twenty-eight years, the Berlin Wall became one of the most powerful symbols of the Cold War. It represented the division of Germany, Europe and a world dominated by two opposing political and military blocs.

Johann remembered watching television images of the Wall and wondering why a government needed to prevent its own citizens from leaving. He also remembered the people who risked their lives trying to cross the border. Some escaped. Others were arrested. Some never reached the other side.

In 1989, political change was spreading across Eastern Europe. In East Germany, thousands of citizens joined peaceful demonstrations demanding democratic reforms and freedom of movement.

On 9 November, a confused announcement by East German official Günter Schabowski suggested that new travel regulations would take effect immediately. Thousands of people gathered at the border crossings in Berlin. Overwhelmed by the crowds, the guards eventually opened the barriers. Johann watched the events on television from Dresden. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. People were embracing strangers, laughing, crying and climbing onto the Wall. For the first time in decades, Berliners could cross a border that had divided their city and their lives. Johann remembered his wife crying in front of the television. He remembered thinking that his children might grow up in a different world.

The Wall had not physically disappeared that night, but its power to imprison people had been broken.

On 3 October 1990, Germany was officially reunified. The country began a difficult process of political, economic and social integration. Reunification brought opportunities, but it also brought uncertainty. Many East German factories closed, unemployment increased and entire communities experienced profound changes. Not everyone benefited equally from the transformation.

Nevertheless, Germany gradually consolidated its position as Europe's largest economy and one of the principal political and economic forces within the European Union. 

The fall of the Berlin Wall had consequences far beyond Germany. It symbolised the collapse of the division that had shaped Europe since the Second World War. 

In 1991, the Soviet Union dissolved, marking the definitive end of the Cold War era. Europe was changing. And so was Johann's life.

Years later, after retiring, Johann and his wife decided to move to Mallorca. They chose Lloseta, a peaceful town surrounded by mountains, vineyards and olive groves. They were not escaping the GDR anymore. That country had disappeared long before. They were simply looking for a different way of life.

Johann loved the Mediterranean climate, the quiet streets and the possibility of spending his mornings outdoors. He sometimes met other Germans who had also built new lives on the island. Their experiences were different. Some came from the former East Germany, others from the West. But Johann felt that his own history had taught him something important. Freedom was not merely the possibility of travelling to another country. It was the right to make decisions about his own life. It was the right to criticise a government without fear. It was the possibility of expressing an opinion, choosing a future and respecting the choices of others.

Johann looked again at the small fragment of concrete. Thirty-seven years had passed since the fall of the Berlin Wall. The world had changed enormously, but wars, authoritarian governments, political repression and new divisions still existed. He knew that democracy was imperfect and that freedom did not automatically guarantee happiness or prosperity. He also knew that economic progress could not erase every wound left by history. But he believed that freedom was worth defending. He stood up, walked towards the garden and looked at the mountains. The November sunlight was warm. He smiled. He had spent much of his life behind a border that he had never chosen. Now, in a small Mallorcan village, he could choose how to spend the rest of his days. And that, he thought, was an extraordinary privilege.

A wall can divide a city, a country or a continent. But it should never be allowed to define the limits of human dignity.

More information: BBC

Jetzt sind wir in einer Situation, 
in der wieder zusammenwächst, was zusammengehört.

Now what belongs together, will grow together.

Willy Brandt

THE ALBERA MASSIF & THE MEDITERRANEAN TORTOISE

After exploring the landscapes of Catalunya Nord, The Grandma and Claire Fontaine have continued their journey towards the Albera mountain range, in the Alt Empordà region.

The Albera is the easternmost section of the Pyrenees, where the mountains gradually descend towards the Mediterranean Sea. It is a remarkable natural area, characterised by forests, rocky hills, Mediterranean vegetation and an extraordinary variety of wildlife. The western part of the mountain range is home to beech and oak forests, while the eastern slopes are dominated by cork oaks and Mediterranean scrubland. However, one of the greatest treasures of this landscape is a small, quiet and ancient creature: the Mediterranean tortoise (Testudo hermanni hermanni).

Tortoises belong to an evolutionary lineage that appeared more than 200 million years ago. They survived enormous environmental changes, including the extinction of the non-avian dinosaurs.

The Mediterranean tortoise is a terrestrial reptile, recognisable by its yellowish and black shell, strong legs and slow movements. It is mainly herbivorous, feeding on wild plants, leaves, flowers and other vegetation. Like other reptiles, it depends on external sources of heat to regulate its body temperature. During the coldest months, it enters a period of winter dormancy, reducing its activity until temperatures rise again. Despite its remarkable evolutionary history, this tortoise faces a serious threat to its survival.

The Albera mountain range is home to the last surviving native wild population of Hermann's tortoise on the Iberian Peninsula. In the past, this species inhabited much larger areas along the Catalan Mediterranean coast. Today, its original population survives in a small and fragmented territory.

According to estimates based on surveys carried out in 2017, approximately 6,000 to 7,000 individuals remained in the Albera area. Other populations have been established in Catalunya through conservation and reintroduction programmes. The main threats to the species include forest fires, habitat destruction, agricultural changes, road accidents, predation and the illegal collection of wild tortoises. The species is legally protected, and removing individuals from their natural habitat is strictly forbidden.

During their journey, Claire and The Grandma have learnt about the Centre de Reproducció de Tortugues de l'Albera (Albera Tortoise Breeding Centre), located near the Sanctuary of Mare de Déu del Camp, in Garriguella. The centre plays an essential role in the conservation of the Mediterranean tortoise. Its work includes captive breeding, scientific research, environmental education and the reinforcement of wild populations.

Breeding tortoises under controlled conditions helps reduce the high mortality rates experienced by young animals in the wild. Once suitable for release, captive-bred tortoises can contribute to conservation programmes designed to strengthen existing populations. However, breeding alone is not enough.

Protecting natural habitats, preventing forest fires and raising public awareness are equally important. The survival of the Mediterranean tortoise depends not only on scientists and conservationists, but also on the decisions made by society.

Claire and The Grandma and  reflect on the extraordinary contrast between the tortoise's long evolutionary history and its vulnerability in the modern world. An animal whose ancestors lived alongside dinosaurs now depends on human conservation efforts to survive in parts of its former habitat.

The Mediterranean tortoise reminds us that biodiversity is not simply a collection of species. It is a complex network of relationships between animals, plants, landscapes and ecosystems. Protecting a tortoise also means protecting the Mediterranean forests, grasslands and scrublands where it lives. And perhaps the most important lesson is that the value of a living creature does not depend on its size, speed or usefulness to human beings.

Every species has its place in the natural world. Every extinction represents an irreversible loss. And every successful conservation project demonstrates that human beings can also become guardians of the natural heritage they have endangered.

Claire and The Grandma leave the Albera with a simple thought: Some of the most important journeys in life are not about moving faster, but about learning to respect the world around us.

More information: Discovering the Cork Lands

When we try to pick out anything by itself, 
we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.

John Muir

RING THE BELLS THAT STILL CAN RING, THERE IS NO DRUM

Dear Leonard,

It has been ten years since you left us, and the void you left behind remains impossible to bear. The society that you -and others like you- dreamed of has vanished; or rather, it never truly came to be. We are once again going through difficult times, both socially and ethically. Politics has lost its function as a tool for social transformation and has instead become a den of corruption, cynicism, hypocrisy, and the constant exploitation of the common good. Everything has become polarized, to the point where the two extremes now touch -making it impossible to trust either one.

We have failed as a society because we lack the collective consciousness needed to put an end to these individualistic, megalomaniacal, and selfish behaviours, and to refocus on what is truly important: the human being. Those minorities you held in such high regard continue to suffer under the excesses and impositions of the majority -though, of course, all in the name of "transformation" and "inclusivity," with a focus on "equity" and the perspective of [insert here the specific group you claim to protect while actively destroying them]. Misery has been turned into a business, and despair into a form of entertainment. Nihilism is taking hold among the youth. The culture of hard work and effort has been eclipsed by marketing and the pursuit of quick gains. The worker is criminalized, while the parasite is rewarded.

We have failed to conquer Manhattan -let alone Berlin- and have instead been conquered ourselves by a tidal wave of ignorance, cynicism, envy, and lies. Those societies that Aldous Huxley and George Orwell warned us about are already among us, and, honestly, I do not know how we will reverse them -or even if it is possible to do so.

We do not falter in the struggle, yet with each passing day we grow older, watching as we lose what previous generations fought for and won. We see that we are leaving a dark future for those who will come after us, a dark, economically bankrupt future.

You always sang out against this type of society, the one that was yours, and remains ours today. Now, mediocrity has spread from the political sphere to every corner of society, including the cultural realm. While the voices of dignity grow old-only to be cast aside or outright censored, there are no new, committed voices like yours to take their place. It is chilling to see so many artists in prison simply because they are a nuisance to the regime of the day -and yes, this is happening here, in the Europe you and I both love.

I shudder to think what the next ten years will be like without you -without anyone at the helm- under these leaders who are inept, mediocre, megalomaniacal, and, above all, corrupt: corrupt in their actions and in their very souls. Those who promised to transform everything have only transformed their own lifestyles; meanwhile, the old guard -the ones who have always been there- are certainly not the solution to the very problems they themselves created.

And so, in these times of social uncertainty and persistent disappointment, we pledge not to give up, but to keep working to reverse this situation. It will not be easy, but great crises often give rise to great opportunities. We cannot allow ourselves to be humiliated any further, nor can we tolerate their continued lies, or the way they prioritize individual interests over the collective good, and the idler over the hard worker. In the most difficult moments of our history -and we have many to look back on- an anthem has always emerged. With your permission, we are holding on to yours to keep moving forward. 

We miss you, Leonard, and we haven't forgotten you.

The birds they sang
At the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don't dwell on what has passed away
Or what is yet to be

Ah, the wars they will be fought again
The holy dove, she will be caught again
Bought and sold, and bought again
The dove is never free

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in

We asked for signs
The signs were sent
The birth betrayed
The marriage spent
Yeah, and the widowhood
Of every government
Signs for all to see

I can't run no more
With that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places
Say their prayers out loud
But they've summoned, they've summoned up
A thundercloud
They're going to hear from me

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in

You can add up the parts
But you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march
There is no drum
Every heart, every heart
To love will come
But like a refugee

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in

That's how the light gets in
That's how the light gets in

More information: The Daily Declaration

 Music is the emotional life of most people.

Leonard Cohen

CERVERA-BANYULS, PROTECTING MARINE BIODIVERSITY

Today, Claire Fontaine and The Grandma continue their journey south along the Costa Vermella (Red Coast), leaving Banyuls de la Marenda behind and heading towards Cervera.

The road winds between the mountains and the Mediterranean Sea, offering spectacular views of rocky cliffs, hidden coves and crystal-clear waters.

Here, the Serra de l'Albera (Albera Massif), the easternmost extension of the Pyrenees, gradually descends towards the Mediterranean. Its rocky slopes do not simply disappear at the shoreline. They continue beneath the waves, creating an extraordinary underwater landscape.

This remarkable meeting between mountains and sea is home to one of the most important protected marine environments in the region: the Cervera-Banyuls Marine Nature Reserve.

More information: Banyuls

Established in 1974, Cervera-Banyuls became first exclusively marine nature reserve in France. Covering approximately 650 hectares and seven kilometres of coastline, the reserve was created to protect the exceptional biodiversity of the Costa Vermella.

Its underwater environment includes rocky reefs, submarine caves, seagrass meadows and coralligenous formations. Together, these habitats support an extraordinary variety of marine organisms.

But protecting a marine reserve means much more than preserving a beautiful landscape. It means safeguarding the complex relationships that make life beneath the surface possible.

Among the reserve's most valuable habitats are the meadows of Posidonia oceanica, a flowering plant found only in the Mediterranean Sea. Often mistaken for seaweed, Posidonia forms extensive underwater meadows that provide food, shelter and breeding grounds for numerous marine species. These underwater forests also help stabilise sediments, protect coastlines and store carbon.

Another remarkable habitat is the coralligenous ecosystem, where calcareous algae create complex structures colonised by colourful sponges, gorgonians, corals and countless invertebrates.

Groupers, octopuses, sea bream and lobsters are among the many animals that find shelter in these Mediterranean environments. Every species plays a role in maintaining the delicate balance of marine life.

For centuries, human communities have depended on the Mediterranean for food, transportation, trade and cultural exchange. However, pollution, excessive fishing pressure, coastal development and climate change have placed increasing pressure on marine ecosystems.

Marine reserves offer an opportunity to reduce some of these pressures. By regulating human activities and establishing areas of stronger protection, they allow vulnerable habitats and marine populations to recover. Protected areas can also contribute to healthier surrounding waters by supporting the reproduction and movement of marine species. Scientific research, environmental education and responsible tourism are essential parts of this conservation effort.

At Cervera-Banyuls, visitors can even discover the underwater environment through an educational snorkelling trail at Perafita, designed to encourage observation and respect for marine life.

The beauty of Cervera-Banyuls cannot be understood without the Albera. These mountains are part of the Pyrenees, a natural system that connects forests, valleys, rivers, rocky shores and marine habitats. Although the landscapes above and below the water are different, they belong to an interconnected environment. What happens on land can eventually affect the sea. Soil erosion, pollution and human activities may influence coastal waters and the organisms that inhabit them.

Protecting the Mediterranean therefore requires looking beyond the shoreline. It means understanding that nature does not recognise the political borders drawn by human beings.

The waters of Cervera-Banyuls belong to the same Mediterranean ecosystem as those of Cap de Creus, just across the border between Catalunya Nord and Catalunya. Protecting one part of this environment contributes to preserving a shared natural heritage.

As Claire and The Grandma contemplate the Mediterranean from the rocky coastline, they reflect on the importance of preserving places whose greatest treasures are often invisible from the surface. A calm blue sea may conceal an extraordinary world of life, colour and movement. But beauty alone cannot guarantee survival. Marine ecosystems need knowledge, protection and responsible human behaviour.

The Cervera-Banyuls Marine Nature Reserve reminds us that conservation is not about separating humanity from nature. It is about learning to coexist with the natural world without destroying the conditions that sustain it.

The sea is not simply a landscape to admire. It is a living world to understand, respect and protect. And as the journey continues south towards Catalunya, the Albera remain on the horizon, reminding The Grandma and Claire that the mountains and the Mediterranean share a history far older than any human frontier.

More information: Reserves Naturelles Catalanes

La mar estava alegre, aquest migdia:
tota era brill i crit i flor d'escuma,
perquè feia molt sol i el vent corria.
Al lluny se veia un gran mantell de bruma.
Damunt les ones, amb les veles dretes,
les barques hi brincaven com cabretes.

The sea was joyful this midday:
all was sparkle, clamor, and blossoms of foam,
for the sun shone bright and the wind was blowing.
In the distance, a great veil of mist could be seen.
Upon the waves, with their sails held high,
the boats skipped about like little goats.

Joan Maragall

'I MORIR QUAN SIGUI L'HORA, SOTA EL CEL DEL MEU PAÍS...'

Tots els anys que he hagut de viure
allunyat del meu país
han estat una nit fosca,
un camí ple de neguit.

Penso en tot allò que enrere
vaig deixar quan vaig partir
i amb els ulls de l'esperança
torno encara al meu país.

No estimo res com la dolcesa
del cel blau del meu país!
Ara en sóc lluny, però me'n recordo 

dia i nit.

Si un dia hi torno el vent que em rebi
esborrarà tots els neguits
i oblidaré els anys que he viscut
tant sol i trist.

No hi ha res que no em recordi
cada instant el meu país,
tot em fa pensar amb els dies
que hi vaig viure tant feliç.

Quan camino el vent em porta
veus que el temps no ha pas marcit,
si m'adormo el que somio
és només del meu país.

No estimo res com la dolcesa
del cel blau del meu país!

Abans que la mort m'arribi
vull tornar al meu país,
trepitjar la terra amiga,
caminar per vells camins.

Vull sentir les veus que estimo,
vull plorar pels vells amics
i morir quan sigui l'hora
sota el cel del meu país.

No estimo res com la dolcesa
del cel blau del meu país!

All the years I have had to live

far away from my homeland

have been a dark night,

a path filled with anguish.

I think of everything I left behind

when I departed,

and with eyes full of hope,

I still return to my homeland.

I love nothing like the sweetness

of the blue sky of my homeland!

I am far away now, yet I remember it

day and night.

If one day I return, the wind that greets me

will erase all my sorrows,

and I will forget the years I have lived

so alone and sad.

Everything reminds me

of my homeland at every moment;

everything makes me think of the days

when I lived there, so happy.

As I walk, the wind brings me

voices that time has not withered;

if I fall asleep, what I dream of

is only my homeland.

I love nothing like the sweetness

of the blue sky of my homeland!

Before death comes for me,

I want to return to my homeland,

to tread upon its friendly soil,

to walk along old paths.

I want to hear the voices I love,

I want to weep for old friends,

and—when the time comes—to die

beneath the sky of my homeland.

I love nothing like the sweetness

of the blue sky of my homeland!

El meu país, Miquel Martí i Pol

More information: iSabadell

I em va despertar l'interès per lluitar per les llibertats. 

Així vaig començar amb la Nova Cançó.

And it awakened in me the desire to fight for freedom. 

That is how I became involved in the Nova Cançó movement.

Teresa Rebull