Some Views of Barcelona

The home of Catalunya's 'national team'

Barcelona's stock exchange suffers blemishes from an attack of red paint

Paris isn't the only city with an Arc de Triomf

Capoeira in Parc de la Ciutadella

The Rambla

A rescue after the elevator jammed at the top of Columbus' statue

Monumento de Colom

A homeless man in Plaça de Catalunya

'For a quality  public school, Occupy the classrooms'. Spain's government  is cutting  education and  health services while the military and the Church go unscathed

Policemen meet during the threat of public protests while the European Banking Committee is in town.  A student's demonstration of some 8000 students was matched by 8ooo policemen standing by to contain the protests.

The building where the ECB met was surrounded by an army of  police

'Homes without people, people without homes'

break dancing on the Rambla

A small demonstration of train workers who have also suffered from cuts

'12 May to 15 May We Take the Streets'  The 15th of May is the Anniversary of the  'Toma la Plaza'  movement (Take the Square) which predates (and probably inspired)  the 'Occupy  Wall Street' movement

A Barcelona bullring, no longer used for bullfighting. Bullfights have  been outlawed in Catalunya.

The ever present 'Mossos d'Esquadra', or 'Squadron Boys'. The  riot squads among the Mossos have a reputation for being heavy handed

Londoners aren't the only ones to have a building of this shape in their neighborhood

The May Day Demonstration in Barcelona; Peaceful Solidarity, And Threats of Violence

The Free Hugs Campaign

 While staying with friends in Vilanova i la Geltrú I'd heard there would be demonstrations in Barcelona during my stay here, one of which would take place on May 1st, Labor Day. I've read and heard a lot about Barcelona's demonstrations, and about the violence that often occurs, and I've heard people blame either demonstrators or the police; I've even heard some people claim that the police start the violence, posing as demonstrators. I thought I'd attend to find the truth on that matter and  to know what this worldwide movement is all about. I also thought I'd do a little amateur reporting for this blog.

'Mossos' help out a tourist

Being the amateur reporter that I am, I had no idea where the demonstration was to take place, or when. I'd heard Plaza de Catalunya was often the site of demonstrations, so I went there only to find two 'mossos d'esquadra' vans with their crews standing idly by and two riot policemen with riot gear ready to go. The van crews didn't seem to mind being photographed, but the riot policemen told me I'd better not photograph them. I didn't.
As far as demonstrators were concerned, the closest thing I could find to a demonstration were a few people from the 'Free Hugs Campaign' offering free hugs. This campaign was started by a man named Juan Mann, from Sydney, Australia, who decided to give free hugs after being given a spontaneous hug when he was depressed. Juan claimed that that hug had given him joy and hope and thus the campaign was started. It has gone worldwide since then.

 I eventually found two young men walking hurriedly in another direction with 'no cuts' flags. They pointed me to Plaza de la Universitat to find the demonstration. I knew just where to go, having waitied in the Plaza for my host the night before. As I approached the Plaza I saw more riot vans and mossos in full riot gear, but among them I saw what I thought were protestors, dressed in civilian clothes, with bandanas covering their faces and ball caps pulled down . They had police arm bands and stood truculently with their arms crossed. I thought this must have been a parody of what protestors viewed the riot police to be like. I raised my camera when one of the 'protestors' stepped forward and told me to put the camera away. I thought he was joking, and looked at another 'protestor', then another, and they all looked pretty serious. I put the camera away. Later I would stand with a group of journalists who were also ready to photograph these guys, and were also told they'd better not. They also didn't photograph them, at least not at close range while they were idle. One of the journalists told me that some of these 'secret police' would infiltrate the crowd at some point.

As the demonstrators gathered, I noticed that many were elderly or well into middle age. Many were university students, and most seemed to be ordinary people. There were also large and well organized groups of various political influences; communists, socialists for Catalan independence, anarchists. At that point there was no air of tension; the crowd might have been gathering for a concert rather than for a demonstration.

 It was only the photojournalists who seemed tense; they seemed to know something I didn't know.

It wasn't long, though, before there was a scuffle. There was shouting at the edge of the crowd, where the mossos were, and people started surging towards the police line. Journalists were snapping off photos, people were running, there was some yelling, a water jug was thrown at the police, a plain clothes policeman pulled out a telescopic truncheon and gestured threateningly. As the crowd surged, the riot police line moved forward; there were a few minutes of standoff, then the riot police line backed down and the crowd thinned as the demonstration got underway, marching off into the opposite direction. I later asked a journalist what had happened; one of the plain clothes policemen had been discovered in the crowd and some of the demonstrators had reacted in a less than peaceful manner.

 As the demonstrators marched down Gran Via de les Corts Catalanes, drums played and many groups chanted slogans. On several occasions there was jeering and whistling heard from one part of the crowd or another; usually at the plain clothed, masked and truculent 'secret police' who blocked off exits to contain the demonstration. At one point it seemed violence would flare up when a group of these plain clothes police retreated from the crowd, having been among the demonstrators.
They were quick to get out though, and no violence occurred.

 At one point, as I stood on a curb, clicking away with my camera as the procession made its way peacefully down the Gran Via, a young lady handed me a small leaflet. I'd already been handed several that called one to the cause of this or that political group, but this leaflet was directed at me in particular. It was in Catalan, and said, in summary, that:
 the demonstrators were tired of our photos; that lately because of cheap technology and mobile phones, demonstrations had become free rides for photo taking tourists who do nothing to contribute to the cause. Furhtermore,

'Many of our colleagues have been condemned because of these images...  We can scare off the journalists and the 'secret police', since cowards run from the possibility of confrontation. But what do we do with you, buddy?  Leave your camera at home; demonstrate with us, to protest and fight. Next time we might not tell you in such a polite way.'

I was a bit put out by this leaflet, and even offended;  the presence of the 'secret police' on one side and so many gentle people expressing their discontent with a corrupt system on the other had me identifying with the demonstrators.

A scuffle broke out when a 'secret' policeman was discovered in the crowd. The men dressed like thugs in the background? Policemen.

But I kept taking photos, standing on park benches to get a better view, and going down side streets to have a better look at the police dressed and behaving like thugs.

One of the 'secret' police pulls out his telescopic truncheon in the background

 When the demonstration passed a second floor home for the elderly, an old woman smiled and waved enthusiastically. Many in the demonstration smiled at this. I smiled too, and my heart was lifted. At that point I left the demonstration as it headed in the direction of Plaza Espanya.

The riot squad moves back

In the background along the sidewalk, 'secret' police retreating to the tune of jeers and whistling

Journalists and demonstrators photograph the police while the police photograph us

What 99% of the demonstration was; festive, albeit discontented solidarity

Riot vans bring up the rear

Plain clothed, masked, policemen. These guys created tension rather than alleviating it.

The demonstration moves peacefully along Gran Via de les Corts Catalanes

'Take the Square' Newsletter: Will the Spanish Government Criminalise Peaceful Protesting?

http://takethesquare.net/2012/04/17/barcelona-15m-newsletter-nr-9/

Vostè Protestant Avui en Dia, Amics? Una Mica de Consell de Martin Luther King

http://corr.peacefuluprising.org/elements/self-purification

Hosts in Barcelona: A Cancer Biologist and Mother, an Israeli Tour Guide, and an English Teacher from Barcelona's Quaker Meeting

Anthea and Scott sharing a very brief quiet moment

A couchsurfer from France with Anthea and Scott

 Barcelona has been a bit more difficult for me to find a host than other cities, especially considering the large number of Couchsurfing hosts in it. But after meeting my first host in Barcelona, Anthea, I soon discovered why. Anthea explained to me that she gets several couchsurfing requests a day, and does her best to accomodate them by hosting a person nearly everyday. Anthea somehow manages to blend the time required for this hopitality with the time she needs caring for her four-year-old son, Scott, and working full time as a cancer biologist. For example, in the short time I spent with Anthea and Scott, Anthea treated me and another couchsurfer to a drink at a sidewalk café, she cooked a nice curry for me at her apartment, and we spent a good bit of time talking after dinner, which I really enjoyed as Anthea keeps you on your toes in any kind of intellectual 'debate'. (In the end I was no match for her). And if Anthea hasn't got enough on her hands already, she's considering another PhD in another area. My slow walk to Egypt is a walk in the park compared to Anthea's high speed life, so all the more thanks, Anthea!

Dan on the left, Shahar in the back, on the right, and Shahar's mother, Klara,  and girlfriend, Petra. Petra is from Hungary.

Shahar signs a petition

 My host in Barcelona for the past three nights has been Dan, from Israel. Despite his origins, Dan hasn't been home much these past few years, as he's been working as a tour guide and travel agent in different parts of the world.
As a younger man in Israel, Dan served in the IDF as an officer for a while (everybody in Israel serves in the IDF at some point), but he didn't much like it. Like so many Israelis, Dan is sympathetic to the grievances of those Palestinians who are forced off their land by settlers, and he isn't at all sympathetic to the government that endorses settlement expansion. Dan and his friend Shahar, also from Israel, have been important to me on my walk, as they have offered an Israeli perspective for peace in the Middle East. Both Dan and Shahar (who also disliked, and tried to avoid service in the IDF) have thoughtfully considered and signed both of the petitions for peace in the Middle East, and filled me in on details I need to know about for my future walk into Israel.
And of course, Dan has also made me feel at home, treating me to dinner and being a very good friend.
And he's been my tour guide too!

Dan with a friend, Honey, who is the vocalist with 'The Minus Two' (Facebook.com/theminustwo). Honey is from Sweden, but is partly of Palestinian descent.

Dan and his other Couchsurfing guest, Valeria, from Argentina.  Before I left,  Valeria treated us to a delicious cup of  mate tea, which is shared around the table through a metal straw. What a great way to form a social bond! 

Gerry with his city mode of transport. Follow his example, folks!

I've also had the rare opportunity to meet with someone connected to the Religious Society of Friends in Spain/Catalunya.
While Gerry is not officially a Quaker, he has long attended the Barcelona Monthly Meeting, and we had the opportunity to talk a bit when he invited me to lunch.
Like so many Quaker meetings in continental Europe, Barcelona Monthly Meeting struggles with attendance, and they meet now only once a month. One of the reasons for Barcelona's fluctuating attendance is the transitory nature of the city; people come and go all the time.
As a young man, Gerry  studied at a seminary to be a Catholic priest, but lost his faith. He now teaches English as a  second language, and has done so for a very long time. Except for a few years teaching in Casablanca, he has spent his career as a teacher in Barcelona. Like more than a few Quakers, he considers himself an agnostic; perhaps a bit of a seeker; but he finds peace and a measure of  spirituality in the silence of a Quaker meeting, and, of course, the peace that he finds there radiates outward. If you are interested in contacting the Barcelona Friend's Meeting, you can e-mail Caroline Wilson at caroline.wilson@esade.edu.

Thanks for the Help!

Back in the beginning of April, when I was down to some 30 euros, I asked for help. A month later, I have received enough help to get me through another 8-10 weeks, barring an unexpected expense. So special thanks to Hugo and Kelly in Almeria, my old friend Jon from Australia, Nikki, Alícia and Patricia in Tarragona, and most recently Friend Laura in Montana. Special thanks also to Conrad Lindes and Winona Monthly Meeting/ Ohio Yearly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends for helping me out as they did. And of course, thanks to everyone else; to all those who help me along day by day!

Catalans for Independence; and On to Castelldefels, Last Stop Before Barcelona

Pere, in front of his father's fishing boat

 Pere is the 'Son of a son of a sailor', or more accurately, a fisherman, but he's the first in a long line of fishermen to break tradition. He's tried fishing, but decided social work was more in tune with his social conscience. Currently unemployed, as is 24% of Spain's population,( and more than 50% of Spain's young population) Pere is nevertheless working for what he views as a better world through Socialism and independence for Catalunya.
Both he and his flatmate, Quim, are members of Catalunya's CUP, Candidatura Unitat Popular, and Quim is one of the party's three representatives in Vilanova i la Geltru's 25-member City Council. Neither Quim nor his party colleagues accept pay for their work in the City Council, and the party has no leaders; no one to assume power and call all the shots; no one to be corrupted. They are believers in grassroots Democracy, and they would rather walk out of a City Council meeting than be forced into voting on one of two unacceptable propositions. They are gaining in popularity, and have become  favorites of the press, which Quim says has it's negative side; they are being encouraged to structure themselves like other political parties by choosing a leader and getting themselves into the national (or rather, Spanish ) political scene.
In any case, whatever one's political orientation, CUP presents a model of what down-to-earth real Democracy looks like.
Oh, and both Pere and Quim were fantastic hosts too.

The town hall of Vilanova i la Geltru

Quim, CUP representative, in casual and office attire

On the left, a Catalan independence flag, and on the right, the Scottish flag. Scotland is up for a referendum on independence in 2014

Two supporters on the walk from Vilanova to Castelldefels

Sitges

This walk offered a beautiful view when I wasn't dodging cars and trucks

My generous host in Castelldefels, Susana, who has taken up a form of Korean meditation called 'Maum'.  With a degree in Industrial Electronics, she is now studying History and English.

The castle in Castelldefels

The First Six Months; Our Collective Walk

On the First of November my daughter and I set off from Portalegre, Portugal with two friends towards our home in Castelo de Vide, 20 kilometers away. Three days later Olivia and I left our home and walked into Spain.
For the next ten weeks we made our way south, and whatever misty illusions I had about this peace pilgrimage evaporated. More often than not our days were nothing more than an unremarkable plodding forward, whether along busy highways or muddy footpaths, whether surrounded by industrial zones and rubbish heaps or the sea and mountains, whether we were given warm beds and a hot meal or huddling in a tent and eating cold stale bread and artificial cheese.
I had thought there would be more interest in the walk, more fanfare, and more people to walk with us; and individuals had been very interested in the pilgrimage on occasion, (and the Moroccan police were a bit too interested in the pilgrimage for a good five or six days) but for the most part, people have their own  moving forward to do; their own pilgrimages to walk, don't they?
After walking 1000 kilometers with me all the way to Fes, Morocco, Olivia returned home; I cried like a baby; she had been the pillar I'd leaned on and now I was really on my own. I turned that much more to God and resolved to simply keep moving forward, whatever the state of  my mind, health, financial situation, or physical surroundings. If I couldn't justify the pilgrimage with the prospect of real results, of peace petitions delivered and taken into consideration, of reaching Cairo, of achieving anything for Peace, or doing any good for anybody; when my mind darkened and turned cynical, I just arose in the morning and kept going, like a donkey driven along by a master. So at times I have walked cheerfully, knowing I am doing God's will, our wills one and the same, and at times I have walked like a dumb ass, not knowing anything but putting one foot in front of the other until the end of the day. But I have kept moving forward, and I have kept working, as we all do in one way or another. There's nothing remarkable in this pilgrimage that isn't equally remarkable in all of our collective groping forward and upward. I've walked a good 2250 kilometers so far, but our collective walking can't be measured.

So we are all walking together after all, and all of the stories I've heard from fellow wayfarers and friends and hosts confirm this. They have all made and are making pilgrimages, often pilgrimages far more interesting than one consisting of a continuous plodding along, but still not without the help of others. And all of the hospitality and kindness and generosity I've been shown confirm our collective walk, and an interest in this pilgrimage; not with fanfare but with quiet solidarity.
 I would therefore like to thank all of my hosts for the past six months, and all of those who helped me financially, and all those who gave me work, or a temporary family, or a word of encouragement, or asked me a question, or mentioned the walk to a friend, or offered a sandwich, or a bottle of water, or an orange. I would like to thank those who think about the walk, or follow its progress. I would like to thank those who have questioned the purpose of the walk, for making me think all the harder about it.
I'd like to thank even those who are indifferent, or who have shown hostility; they are all helping me along somehow (paying taxes for the roads I walk on, or keeping me from being proud.)
I would like to thank my wife, Linda, for her courage; this walk hasn't made things any easier for her (for the most part, I think.)

 Ultimately we are all one humanity, whatever our faith or philosophy, whatever our culture or nationality; we are all making pilgrimages, and our pilgrimages all have the same destination, and I thank God for helping me to know this, and for helping all of us to know this.