Fernand Khnopff

Wer wird mich erlösen? (Who shall deliver me?) by Fernand Khnopff, 1898, coloured pencil on paper, 22 x 13 cm, Collection Nourihan Manoukian, Paris, France (Künstlergruppe »Les XX«)

The work of art depicted in this image and the reproduction thereof are in the public domain worldwide. The reproduction is part of a collection of reproductions compiled by The Yorck Project. The compilation copyright is held by Zenodot Verlagsgesellschaft mbH and licensed under the GNU Free Documentation License.

I lock my Door upon Myself by Fernand Khnopff, 1891, oil on canvas, 72 x 140 cm, Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Neue Pinakothek, München, Deutschland

This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired.

I lock my Door upon Myself is a rather eerie painting, and yet, I like it. I saw it at the Neue Pinakothek back in late 1989 with my youngest sister. I bought an 8½ x 11 inch print, still in a plastic insert to this day. This painting takes its name from the poem, “Who shall deliver me?” by Christina Georgina Rossetti dated March 1st, 1864, from Poems, 1876. It was revised in 1900 under the title “A Recluse”.

“Who shall deliver me?”

God strengthen me to bear myself;

That heaviest weight of all to bear,

Inalienable weight of care.

All others are outside myself;

I lock my door and bar them out

The turmoil, tedium, gad-about.

I lock my door upon myself,

And bar them out; but who shall wall

Self from myself, most loathed of all?

If I could once lay down myself,

And start self-purged upon the race

That all must run! Death runs apace.

If I could set aside myself,

And start with lightened heart upon

The road by all men overgone!

God harden me against myself,

This coward with pathetic voice

Who craves for ease and rest and joys

Myself, arch-traitor to myself;

My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe,

My clog whatever road I go.

Yet One there is can curb myself,

Can roll the strangling load from me

Break off the yoke and set me free.

Not so long ago, before the winds and the rain ...

© Copyright photograph by Viktoria Iakovleva, October 2009

Ophelia

Ophelia by John Everett Millais, 1852, is part of the Tate Gallery collection. His painting influenced the image in Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet.

This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired.

John William Waterhouse’s painting Ophelia, 1894, oil on canvas, 49 x 29 in
This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired.

Ophelia by Alexandre Cabanel, 1883, oil on canvas, 77 x 117.5 cm/30.3 x 46.3 in, currently part of a private collection
This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired.

Ophelia is a fictional character in the play Hamlet by William Shakespeare. She is a young noblewoman of Denmark, the daughter of Polonius, sister of Laertes, and sweetheart of Prince Hamlet.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Google “References to Ophelia” and you read on Wikipedia:

Ophelia was a favorite subject of artist John William Waterhouse. Ophelia is often referred to in literature and the arts, often in connection to suicide, love, and/or mental instability.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Caspar David Friedrich

Tetscher Altar, Gesamtansicht, Szene: Das Kreuz im Gebirge (The Cross in the Mountains, today known as the Tetschen Altar) by Caspar David Friedrich, 1807, oil on canvas, 115 x 110.5 cm, Gemäldegalerie, Dresden, Deutschland. Friedrich’s first major work, the piece breaks with the traditions of representing the crucifixion in altarpieces by depicting the scene as a landscape. (Landschaftsmalerei als Altarbild).

The work of art depicted in this image and the reproduction thereof are in the public domain worldwide. The reproduction is part of a collection of reproductions compiled by The Yorck Project. The compilation copyright is held by Zenodot Verlagsgesellschaft mbH and licensed under the GNU Free Documentation License.

The Abbey in the Oakwood by Caspar David Friedrich, 1808-1810, oil on canvas, 110.4 x 171 cm, Alte Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Berlin, Deutschland. This painting has been described as like “a scene from a horror movie, it forebears all the Gothic clichés of the late 18th and early 19th centuries”.

This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired in the United States and those countries with a copyright term of no more than the life of the author plus 100 years.

Grabmale alter Helden (Gräber gefallenere Freiheitskrieger, Grab des Arminius) (Old Heroes’ Graves) by Caspar David Friedrich, 1812, oil on canvas, 49.5 x 70.5 cm, Kunsthalle, Hamburg, Deutschland. A dilapidated monument inscribed “Arminius” invokes the Germanic chieftain, a symbol of nationalism, while the four tombs of fallen heroes are slightly ajar, freeing their spirits for eternity. Two French soldiers appear as small figures before a cave, lower and deep in a grotto surrounded by rock, as if farther from heaven. (Landschaftsmalerei).

The work of art depicted in this image and the reproduction thereof are in the public domain worldwide. The reproduction is part of a collection of reproductions compiled by The Yorck Project. The compilation copyright is held by Zenodot Verlagsgesellschaft mbH and licensed under the GNU Free Documentation License.

Kreuz an der Ostsee (The Cross Beside the Baltic) by Caspar David Friedrich, 1815, 45 x 33.5 cm, Schloß Charlottenburg, Berlin, Deutschland. This painting marked a move away by Friedrich from depictions in broad daylight, and a return to nocturnal scenes, twilight and a deeper poignancy of mood. (Landschaftsmalerei).
The work of art depicted in this image and the reproduction thereof are in the public domain worldwide. The reproduction is part of a collection of reproductions compiled by The Yorck Project. The compilation copyright is held by Zenodot Verlagsgesellschaft mbH and licensed under the GNU Free Documentation License.

Der Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer (Wanderer above the Sea of Fog) by Caspar David Friedrich, 1818, oil on canvas, 94.8 x 74.8 cm, Kunsthalle, Hamburg, Deutschland. This well-known and especially Romantic masterpiece was described by the writer John Lewis Gaddis as leaving a contradictory impression, “suggesting at once mastery over a landscape and the insignificance of the individual within it. We see no face, so it’s impossible to know whether the prospect facing the young man is exhilarating, or terrifying, or both.”
This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired.

Kreidefelsen auf Rügen (Chalk Cliffs on Rügen) by Caspar David Friedrich, c. 1818, oil on canvas, 90.5 x 71 cm, Museum Oskar Reinhart am Stadtgarten, Winterthur, Schweiz. Friedrich married Christiane Caroline Bommer in 1818, and on their honeymoon they visited relatives in Neubrandenburg and Greifswald. This painting celebrates the couple’s union.
The work of art depicted in this image and the reproduction thereof are in the public domain worldwide. The reproduction is part of a collection of reproductions compiled by The Yorck Project. The compilation copyright is held by Zenodot Verlagsgesellschaft mbH and licensed under the GNU Free Documentation License.

Caspar David Friedrich in seinem Atelier (Caspar David Friedrich in his Studio) by Georg Friedrich Kersting, 1819, oil on canvas, 51 x 40 cm, Alte Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Berlin, Deutschland. Kersting portrays an aged Friedrich holding a maulstick at his canvas. (Genremalerei).
The work of art depicted in this image and the reproduction thereof are in the public domain worldwide. The reproduction is part of a collection of reproductions compiled by The Yorck Project. The compilation copyright is held by Zenodot Verlagsgesellschaft mbH and licensed under the GNU Free Documentation License.

Mondaufgang über dem Meer (Moonrise Over the Sea) by Caspar David Friedrich, c. 1822, oil on canvas, 55 x 71 cm, Alte Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Berlin, Deutschland. During the early 1820s, human figures appear with increasing frequency in the paintings. Of this period, Linda Siegel writes, “the importance of human life, particularly his family, now occupies his thoughts more and more, and his friends appear as frequent subjects in his art.”
This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired.

Das Eismeer (The Sea of Ice) by Caspar David Friedrich, 1823-1824, oil on canvas, 126.9 x 96.7 cm, Kunsthalle, Hamburg, Deutschland. This scene has been described as “a stunning composition of near and distant forms in an Arctic image”.

The work of art depicted in this image and the reproduction thereof are in the public domain worldwide. The reproduction is part of a collection of reproductions compiled by The Yorck Project. The compilation copyright is held by Zenodot Verlagsgesellschaft mbH and licensed under the GNU Free Documentation License.

Friedhof im Schnee (Graveyard under Snow) by Caspar David Friedrich, 1826, oil on canvas, 31 x 25 cm, Museum der bildenden Künste, Leipzig, Deutschland. Friedrich sketched memorial monuments and sculptures for mausoleums, reflecting his obsession with death and the afterlife. He also created some of the funerary art in Dresden’s cemeteries.
This work is in the public domain in the United States, and those countries with a copyright term of life of the author plus 100 years or fewer.

The Oak Tree in the Snow by Caspar David Friedrich, 1829, oil on canvas, 71 x 48 cm, Alte Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Berlin, Deutschland. Friedrich was one of the first artists to portray winter landscapes as stark and dead. His winter scenes are solemn and still—according to the art historian Hermann Beenken, Friedrich painted winter scenes in which “no man has yet set his foot”.
This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired.

Mann und Frau den Mond betrachtend (Man and Woman Contemplating the Moon) by Caspar David Friedrich, c. 1830-1835, oil on canvas, 34 x 44 cm, Alte Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Berlin, Deutschland. In this work, the artist depicts a couple gazing longingly at nature, in “Old German” clothes, “scarcely different in tone or modelling from the deep dramas of nature around them”. (Landschaftsmalerei).
The work of art depicted in this image and the reproduction thereof are in the public domain worldwide. The reproduction is part of a collection of reproductions compiled by The Yorck Project. The compilation copyright is held by Zenodot Verlagsgesellschaft mbH and licensed under the GNU Free Documentation License.

Erinnerungen an das Riesengebirge (The Giant Mountains) by Caspar David Friedrich, before 1835, oil on canvas, 73.5 x 102.5 cm, Alte Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Berlin, Deutschland. Friedrich sought not just to explore the blissful enjoyment of a beautiful view, as in the classic conception, but rather to examine an instant of sublimity, a reunion with the spiritual self through the contemplation of nature. (Landschaftsmalerei).
This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired.

Die Lebensstufen (Strandbild, Strandszene in Wiek) (The Stages of Life) by Caspar David Friedrich, c. 1835, oil on canvas, 72.5 x 94 cm, Museum der Bildenden Künste, Leipzig, Deutschland. The Stages of Life is a meditation on the artist’s own mortality, depicting five ships at various distances from the shore. The foreground similarly shows five figures at different stages of life.

The work of art depicted in this image and the reproduction thereof are in the public domain worldwide. The reproduction is part of a collection of reproductions compiled by The Yorck Project. The compilation copyright is held by Zenodot Verlagsgesellschaft mbH and licensed under the GNU Free Documentation License.

Meeresufer im Mondschein (Seashore by Moonlight) by Caspar David Friedrich, 1835-1836, oil on canvas, 134 x 169 cm, Kunsthalle, Hamburg, Deutschland. His final “black painting”, Seashore by Moonlight, is described by William Vaughan as the “darkest of all his shorelines.”
This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired.

Landscape with Owl, Grave, and Coffin by Caspar David Friedrich, 1836-1837, pencil and sepia drawing, found on the internet.

This image is in the public domain because its copyright has expired.

Caspar David Friedrich, September 5th, 1774-May 7th, 1840, is another of my favourite artists, specifically, a 19th-century German Romantic landscape painter. I have visited and at length stood before the sixth painting in this post, Kreidefelsen auf Rügen (Chalk Cliffs on Rügen). During my first half year in Perceval, St-Prex, Vaud, Suisse, I had a large print, glued on wood board, hanging in my attic room in Maison François.

More Swiss electric locomotives

Richtung Bière ausfahrender Pendelzug bestehend aus dem Triebwagen Be 4/4 12 und dem Steuerwagen Bt 53 der Bière-Apples-Morges Bahn (BAM) im Jahre 2007 in Morges, Vaud, Suisse
Fotografie von Hanspeter Stähli. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 3.0 License. Some rights reserved

Chemin de fer Bière-Apples-Morges en gare de Bière, Vaud, Suisse, mercredi le 9 novembre 2005
Photo de Marc Mongenet. Ce fichier est publié sous la licence Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 2.5

MBC (BAM) Ge 4/4 22 avec train de betteraves (tombereaux à voie normale sur trucs transporteurs) et Be 4/4 12 avec Bt 53

SBB-CFF-FFS Re 10/10, das heisst Re 6/6 mit Re 4/4 II in Vielfachsteuerung mit Stahlrollenzug auf der Bözberglinie in Richtung Brugg/SBB-CFF-FFS Re 10/10 ie. Re 6/6 MUed with an Re 4/4 II with a steel coil train on the northern Bözberg ramp, Aargau, Schweiz on Wednesday, March 28th, 2007
Fotografie von Kabelleger/David Gubler. The copyright holder of this work hereby releases it into the public domain. This applies worldwide.

SBB-CFF-FFS Re 4/4 II electric locomotive, 11253, im TEE-Anstrich neben dem Gepäcktriebwagen De 4/4, 1682/SBB Re 4/4 II, 11253, in Trans Europe Express livery beside motor coach De 4/4, 1682, at Gossau Station SBB, St. Gallen, Schweiz on Friday, May 13th, 1983
Photograph by Peter Alder. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 3.0, Attribution Share Alike 2.5, Attribution Share Alike 2.0, and Attribution Share Alike 1.0 Licenses. Some rights reserved

Classic German and Swiss electric locomotives

DB Baureihe 120, 120 142-5, der Deutschen Bahn AG bei der Einfahrt in den Hauptbahnhof Stuttgart, Zugnummer IR 2565/DB Class 120 electric locomotive, 120 142-5, arriving at Hauptbahnhof Stuttgart, Stuttgart, Baden-Württemberg, Deutschland with train number IR 2565 on Friday, August 11, 1995.

Photograph by Klaus Jähne. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 3.0 License. Some rights reserved.

DB Baureihe 112, 112 311-6 und 112 312-4/DB Class 112 electric locomotives, 112 311-6 and 112 312-4, in Hamburg, Westdeutschland on Wednesday, August 3, 1983.

Fotografie von Benedikt Dohmen. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 3.0 License. Some rights reserved.

DB Baureihe 103, 103 222-6, 103 230-9, und unbekannte Lok/DB Class 103 electric locomotives, 103 222-6, 103 230-9, and unidentified, in Hemelingen, Bremen, Westdeutschland on Wednesday, July 11, 1984.

Fotografie von Benedikt Dohmen. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 3.0 License. Some rights reserved.

DB Baureihe E 10, 110 451-2/DB Class E 10 electric locomotive, 110 451-2, with a Regionalexpress at Hauptbahnhof Hannover, Hannover, Niedersachsen, Deutschland on Tuesday, March 18, 2003.

Photograph by Christian Immler. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. Some rights reserved.

SBB CFF FFS Re 4/4 II electric locomotive, 11297, in the Gare de Lausanne, Lausanne, Vaud, Suisse on Friday, December 9, 2005.

Photograph by Rama. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 2.0 France License. Some rights reserved.

SBB CFF FFS Gotthardlok Ae 6/6, 11464, inzwischen meist nur noch in niederen Güterzugdiensten anzutreffen/SBB CFF FFS former “Gotthard locomotive” Ae 6/6 electric locomotive, 11464, now mostly used for short-distance freight runs, on Friday, May 25, 2007.

Fotografie von Kabelleger/David Gubler. The copyright holder of this work hereby releases it into the public domain. This applies worldwide.

  

SBB CFF FFS Re 4/4 I TEE electric locomotive, 10033, for the Rheingoldexpress, at Gare de Genève-Cornavin, Genève, Suisse on Saturday, May 15, 1982.

Photograph by Peter Alder. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 3.0 License. Some rights reserved.

SBB CFF FFS Swissexpress pulled by Re 4/4 II electric locomotive near Oron, Vaud, Suisse on Sunday, December 15, 1985.

Photograph by Peter Alder. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 3.0, Attribution Share Alike 2.5, Attribution Share Alike 2.0, and Attribution Share Alike 1.0 Licenses. Some rights reserved.

SBB CFF FFS Historic-Pendelzug bestehend aus BDe 4/4, A und ABt nach Hettlingen, Zürich, Schweiz/SBB historic push-pull train consisting of BDe 4/4 electric locomotive, A and ABt, near Hettlingen, Zürich, Schweiz on Saturday, July 14, 2007.

Fotografie von Kabelleger/David Gubler. The copyright holder of this work hereby releases it into the public domain. This applies worldwide.

La Re 420, 511, du BLS entre Lalden/VS et Brig/VS, Suisse.

Photograph by Titane8226. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License. Some rights reserved.

SBB CFF FFS Re 420, 11151, Rheintal-Express auf der Strecke Sevelen–Weite, St. Gallen, Schweiz am Samstag den 7. Juli, 2007.

Fotografie von Kabelleger/David Gubler. This file is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution Non Commercial Share Alike 2.5 License. Some rights reserved.

I love travelling by train, especially the electric locomotives in Europe. The majority of my experiences were during my years living in Switzerland, 1982–1987, hence the focus on trains operating at that time. At least once a week, often more frequently, I would take the regional (train régional) and Intercity trains to Morges, Lausanne, Genève, Montreux, Vevey, and many of the local stations in-between, plus the regional private rail companies connecting with the national rail network, such as the BLS and the MOB. On holidays I often travelled by train to Swiss towns and cities farther afield, and in West Germany, France, Italy, and Spain. For local trips I relied on single discounted vending machine tickets as I regularly had a Swiss rail pass. For trips in the other countries, Inter Rail, like Eurail but for European residents, was often the best deal to be had. The Swiss trains have always been an excellent network, regularly on schedule. This still holds true today. Germany’s state railway, Deutsche Bahn, once held the same reputation. Since its privatization in 1994, grumblings about deteriorating standards can be heard at times. I experienced this in September 2006, trains almost always at least ten minutes late, or even much more, even the fast InterCity trains. The Italian rail system, still state-run, appears to hold and deserve a better reputation than Germany these days. I experienced a distinct difference between rail travel in Italy in the 1980s and in 2006. Clean, efficient trains, running on time.

The last photo (SBB CFF FFS Re 420, 11151, Rheintal-Express) is the typical colour scheme and configuration I travelled on between the bigger Swiss cities. Some were also in the colour scheme of the train in the eighth photo (SBB CFF FFS Swissexpress Re 4/4 II). My favourite is the fifth photo (SBB CFF FFS Re 4/4 II electric locomotive, 11297). I travelled to and from the Lausanne train station several hundred times in the 1980s! This is the station I know the best of all those I have travelled through. Sometimes I would take my meals in the train station café-restaurant, Buffet de la Gare, Place de la Gare 11, serving local specialties at a reasonable price. One of my occasional favourites here was the Papet vaudois, a dish of finely sliced leek and diced potato served with hot smoked pork sausage, accompanied by a glass of Cardinal Spéciale or Feldschlösschen Hopfenperle, a golden yellow premium lager.

Dents de Morcles, Vaud et Valais, Suisse

On the weekend du visite, Saturday, September 13, 1986, Jean-Frédéric Rosselet and I aimed for the Dent de Morcles, in fact two summits—our destination, the Grande Dent de Morcles at 2968 metres, and the Petite Dent de Morcles at 2929 metres.

We travelled by train to Bex, from there ascending with a yellow-with-red-stripe PTT Swiss post bus up through le Bévieux and Frenières to les Plans at 1101 metres, the turnaround point for the bus.

We commenced our hike turning right, up four hairpin bends in the trail, then levelling out for a bit, a little north of and below Pointe des Savolaires, 2294 metres, passing through a few wire gates, over wood stiles, across meadows, meeting two milk jerseys with bells clang-clanging as they munched on grass.

Soon we passed through the hamlet of Javerne, 1666 metres, and turning south for a now steeper ascent for the Croix de Javerne at 2097 metres, marked with an approximate two metre wood cross with carved lettering. We were rewarded with a magnificent, albeit overcast, view of the region.

Somewhere a little further along we stopped in on a hiking refuge, the overcast sky clearing for mostly blue, clotted with cloud here and there. We each purchased a bowl of tea to go with our pain de Vaud, jambon fumé, and soft stinky cheese known as Tomme.

Satisfied and rested up, packs hoisted, and away we went, soon coming upon the Grand Vire, a horizontal path across two steep combs, the path thinner and less secure with some loose shale and rock in numerous places, even erased by erosion in a few spots, picking our way along until we met the foot path at the base of a chimney.

Now it was a very steep and narrow climb, yellow painted arrows showing the way up on a very tiny path, zig-zagging up the very steep, rocky couloir. It was built by the Swiss Army many years ago. On occasion rocks the size of grapefruits accompanied by plentiful smaller stuff would come down, necessitating gymnastics, forcing us to duck under overhangs or pull our full backpacks up over our heads. Luckily we could usually hear the tumbling well in advance. The sun was receding westward, with it a significant temperature drop, still no summit in sight through the top of the chimney quite far up.

In the half dark we finally came out on a crest and quickly and easily to the left for the awesome summit, somewhat level in places. Our reward was a magnificient 360° view in the evening glow. The morning was to reward us with even better.

Supper was heated on a primus burner—freeze-dried pasta with white cream sauce, buttered bread, a shot of white wine each, then black coffee.

It was necessary to sleep fully clothed despite the sleeping bags rated -15° and all-season, it was so cold at that altitude.

We were greeted early with a glorious sunrise over the Alps, the rose and orange colours sweeping westward peak by peak. At this height one could see pretty much all the Swiss ranges, the northern Italian, and probably even some western Austrian peaks, too.

After a breakfast of black coffee and oatmeal porridge, we packed up and decided to head northeast a little, checking out the ridge toward the Dent Favre, 2917 metres, and a somewhat closer view the Petit and Grand Muveran, 2820 and 3051 metres respectively.

By now we had slowly warming sun, the cloud shreds increasingly scattered.

Now we made down the northern slope and curving westward over the ridge leading to the Pointe des Martinets, 2638 metres, eventually coming upon yesterday’s Grande Vire and turning right to a crest and then down a grassy comb to a marked path soon passing the old military barracks of Rionda. Jean-Frédéric told me of a network of tunnels throughout these mountains, constructed in the name of national defense, all as a result of the famous “Reduit Concept” developed by General Henri Guisan in the summer of 1940. Recently I read that it was about 23 kilometres of tunnels! Some tunnels and fortifications throughout the country were abandoned in the 1990s.

It was another good hour until we reached the La Tourche hut with its beautiful view. From here we descended the old military trail to Le Crêtelet and the path to Les Martinaux, followed by about twenty bends in the road down to the hamlet of Morcles and another thirty tight hairpin bends leaving this little mountain road at Lavey les Bains for the road to St-Maurice.

At the train station we rested about 40 minutes for the next local train. The only others waiting for the same train was an old farm couple, leather-faced from decades outdoors in all weather, sporting traditional costumes from their village, wherever that was—Jean-Frédéric said they were in the Valaisan style with subtle variations in the details, specific to their village and valley. They must have been off to some special event or celebration because one did not see anyone wearing regional costume in daily life anymore.

Barcelona, Catalunya, Spain, Christmas 1986 and New Year’s Day 1987

For my 1986 Christmas vacation I decided to travel to Barcelona with Roser Ylla Janer, a Perceval co-worker with us for a one-year practicum, staying with her family on their rural estate winery several kilometres south of Vic, Osona, and in her absent friends’ flat in the city.

Not being a citizen of the EEC, I needed a visa for travel through France, obtained with some difficulty at the French consulate in Genève—much paper work and a 24-hour wait—because of a new French law in reaction to fears of terrorism, France having a terrorist movement of French nationalists working closely with the German RAF (Rote Armee Fraktion), an increasingly growing and complex problem.

Across the lake and around Genève, the French Army now had extra soldiers stationed near and at the border—machine guns, bazookas, jeeps, barb wire, and road blocks much in evidence at the main border posts and at all the small village crossings, nightly 20:00 to 7:00, seven days a week.

Certain elements in France were becoming fearful and untrusting toward foreigners, with growing anti-Semitism and other forms of racism. Added to this the student protests against the Chirac government, in Paris and the other big French cities.

On the periphery of all this, the Swiss felt quite smug and secure in their little country, and as we heard more than once, “La Suisse, elle en a raison d’être comme elle est dans un monde pareil” (Switzerland has good reason to be as she is in such a world as this).

Nonetheless, we took the opportunity to travel, despite the striking SNCF (Société Nationale de Chemin du Fer) since Monday the 22nd, arranging to drive down with a Spanish friend working in Camphill Beitenwil in Berne, via Genève, Lyon, Montpellier, and Perpignan to the border, there boarding the famous RENFE Tialgo [sic] at Port-Bou just before dawn. The train runs on a different gauge of track from the French and most European systems. Our friend was on a mad dash for Madrid, but willing to bend his route for this detour.

We passed Girona at about eight, arriving in the winter sunlight Sunday, December 28, 1986. Cataluña was to be the only region of Spain I have visited to this day. This region is basically its own country, a people proud of their language and culture, with a strong, quite evident separatist movement popular with the young, many of them university students.

We were abundantly blessed with sun and blue skies. We walked Las Ramblas, passed the Casa Gaudi, extensively visited La Sagrada Familia, walked the port area and many back streets.

The first evening we met three of her longtime female friends on Las Ramblas, treating us to a high-class Chinese dinner in a pricey, exclusive establishment on a nearby side street—not the kind of Chinese cuisine you would traditionally find in North America. This was Mandarin-style exuding an aura of some past royal dynasty. I can not remember exactly what we ate, but I do remember it was many entrées and much variety, delicious, and very clearly I do recall that we five worked our way through several bottles of a strong, clear alcohol much like sake, likely a Chinese rice spirit, and in each bottle of probably a litre in volume was preserved a scaly, grey baby dragon much like an iguana, ugly as sin, but we pickled ourselves with the stuff, becoming increasingly lively, boisterous, and wildly talkative as the night progressed.

As best as I can remember, her family’s masia (Catalan villa) and vineyard was just west of route C-17, Autovia de l’Ametlla, across from the commune of El Hostalets de Balenyà, a municipality in the comarca of Osona, part of a small but traditional wine-making region, a mix of small family-owned wineries and some larger cooperatives, predominately growing the native red grapes Garnatxa (Grenache) and Ull de Llebre (Tempranillo), and the white grape Picapoll.

Their masia was a typical farmhouse for the region, of considerable size under a pan-tiled roof, evenly square in dimension, originally meant to house several branches of the family, having held three daughters and two sons before they all married and moved out—except for Roser. The living quarters were all on the upper floor, as the ground floor sheltered the animals at one time, the rising body heat keeping the human inhabitants warm in winter, now exclusively used for their winery. A large sun room was furnished with wicker chairs and what we North Americans would consider love seats, and as the show piece a large portrait, oil on canvas, about 3 x 2 metres, of Roser a few years younger. Its colours were vibrant and modern, and I believe she had posed in what resembled typical woman’s attire of ancient Greece.

Catalunya is an autonomous region since 1979, made up of the four provinces of Barcelona, Girona, Lleida, and Tarragona, with its institution of self-government, Govern de la Generalitat, that ties itself to old, traditional forms of Law and Government, enforcing the Catalan Civil Law system although most of the justice system does remain under Spanish authority. It consists of a Parliament, an Executive Council, and a President. But some want complete separation from Spain.

The evening of the 28th we attended a sold-out concert in Vic, Lluis Llach, a popular singer and songwriter on the piano, whom I have enjoyed and admired ever since, although I do not understand a word of Catalan.

Upon hearing Roser was visiting with a Canadian friend, her friends had got us into the show, front and centre, despite no more available tickets. And the separatists made up a large part of the crowd, the hall packed to the rafters, Catalan flags waving, much singing, cheering, and shouting of political slogans—Lluis in favour of the cause. Several of them, some translated by Roser, asked me about Québec separatism and René Lévesque—seemed quite knowledgeable on this subject. The Catalan anthem “Els Segadors” (“The Reapers”) was repeated a few times that evening.

We ate with her family several times, the memorable one being New Year’s Day—half the day eating and drinking, a variety of sophisticated, flavoursome foods each accompanied by select wines and sweeter ones between courses—some from their winery, others locally and foreign, and probably some Penedès or Alella too—with all her siblings and their families present.

Looking at my remaining, hurried, pencil-scribbled notes on loose tattered graphing paper, I will attempt to recall some of the foods.

We started with entremesos (hors d’oeuvres) of tasty cold plates of prime quality smoked and cured sausages and meats such as fuet (a salami) and longaniza (local spiced sausage), slices of cheese and olives, asparagus, and anchovies. Then several amanides (salads) including potato salad with olives, esqueixada (a salad of raw desalted cod), escalivada (roast aubergines, onions, and red peppers), and xató (curly endive lettuce, cod, and anchovies). This was followed by sopes (soups). Finally la carta (the menu) of various courses like butifarra amb mongetes (a stew of Catalan sausage with white beans), bacalla a la llauna (salt cod with tomato, garlic, and parsley) and various other fish and seafood dishes, the special Catalan stew escudella i carn d’olla, more salads and some vegetable sides including espinacs a la catalana (spinach sauteed with raisins and pine nuts), slices of bread rubbed with tomato known as pa amb tomàquet. Hours later dessert wines, coffee, some kind of cake, and a variation of my favourite dessert, crema catalana (cinnamon and lemon-flavoured Catalan crème brûlée).

Later in the evening, after Roser and I circled the farmhouse holding hands, we listened to a cassette of Ennio Morricone’s soundtrack for the spaghetti western, Once Upon a Time in the West. We sat on her large brass bed, plump with many pillows and an eider duvet, all in white, first sipping some dessert wine, kissing and cuddling, but the night ending in some long-forgotten disagreement, possibly something to do with our future and her parents’ hopes and wishes, revealed piece by piece. Like the night before, with bedtime very late again, I was quickly off in deep slumber in a guest bed a few doors down the hall from Roser.

A few days earlier I had already been warmly welcomed with open arms and soon I had the distinct impression, later officially confirmed, that they hoped to marry Roser off on me, even though I was definitely not Catholic nor Catalan. Roser had always been the rebellious one, the black sheep, but nonetheless loved. They were irritated and somewhat shamed she was not yet married.

I almost took the bait after a wonderful ten days there, but in early January, soon after our return to Perceval, upon serious, objective reflection, decided against this. By then our Libra-Scorpio incompatibilities were overshadowing our friendship.

In the meantime, we also spent much time in the city, highlights for me seeing again La Sagrada Familia and Park Güell with its thousands of mosaic tiles and pieces, both by Antonio Gaudi, also his Casa Gaudi. And the Catedral Santa Cruz in the old part of the city.

One evening we also rode the local train a little down the coast to Sitges, enjoying a sunset stroll on the beach. Roser said this village is a favourite of the gay tourism trade, some moneyed gays even settling down here, buying up some of the pricier real estate.

One noonday meal down in the harbour out past the Monumento de Colón (tall column with a statue of Christopher Columbus), at a tiny sidewalk restaurant specializing in seafood, we had something with mussels, clams, scallops, and calamari along with a bottle of white wine between us, then a long dockside walk out along the quais.

All the wonderful weather disappeared the day of our departure, buffeted by heavy rains and fierce winds by the time we crossed into France, easier travelling, we initially thought, by bus from Barcelona due to the Tialgo [sic] [kindly corrected by the comment below. Thank you] being booked full as the French railway strike was still in full effect.

But the buses were many and full too, and so it was a long crowded bus ride back to Genève—long delays at the Spanish-French border with the French authorities fine-tooth combing over every traveller’s passport. It was a luxury getting back on the trains, the efficent Swiss trains, for the last bit into St-Prex.