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Friday 25 April 2014

Random Friday

I spotted my first rose of summer on Saint George's Day. How appropriate! It's not the most spectacular specimen that I've ever grown in my garden, and it doesn't have any scent, which is always a huge disappointment to me. But, still, it's a start.



I'm missing the wonderful Spanish lavender and the wild rock roses that grow everywhere along the Costa Brava. My own lavender back in London is looking very lacklustre.




One of the really interesting things about our drive home through France was watching the topography and the vegetation change as we drove north. We set off from sunny Sant Feliu de Guíxolls on the Costa Brava with red/ orange poppies waving in the breeze along the roadside.


Then we drove up into the Pyrenees, crossing the French border into Languedoc-Roussillon. As we headed into the higher altitudes of the Haute-Roussillon we took a trip back into winter. The car thermometer suggested that the external temperatures were hovering around freezing. At one point we drove through an icy shower of sleet. Wind blown pine trees, and drab brown grass were everywhere. We stopped for coffee and croissants at Le Larzac, and I shivered as I took Maxi, our dog, to have his toilet break in the wet grass. I was dressed for the Mediterranean, but it felt like I'd landed in the Tundra.

We crossed the truly spectacular Millau Bridge, feeling that the views alone justified the toll money that we had to pay to cross. 


Then, after a bit, as the road started to gently go down again, we spotted loads of little daffodils growing along the grass verges, lost drifts of springtime, blooming cheerfully in the icy conditions. Our daffodils finished weeks' ago back in London, but these little chappies were still going strong. They looked shorter and hardier than ours; better suited to growing in the harsh climate on the shoulder of the mountain. 

We descended further, and the sun came out. The thermometer told us that we were back up into the teens again: proper spring weather. As we carried on past Clermont-Ferrand, the roadsides burst alive with wild lilac bushes: purple, mauve, white and slightly pink. They were glorious, and when you rolled down the window the scent was sublime. Mixed in with the lilac were loads of wild laburnum trees, their yellow blossoms in full bloom. 

As we drove through the Bourbonnais, in the very heart of France, we saw fat, contented Charolais cows, happily munching the clover with their calves by their sides. There were no other types of cows for what seemed like hundreds of kilometres: no black and white Friesians, no black cows, no brown cows, no mixed-up-coloured cows, nothing apart from these wonderful, white creatures looking more pristine than seemed possible for a white cow in a field. 

Carrying on northwards we started to see more and more mistletoe growing in the trees. They had been more spectacular on our outward journey, three weeks' earlier, when the leaves were not in bud, but they still bore an uncanny resemblance to Dr. Seuss's Truffula Trees, straight out of The Lorax: huge pompom trees, like something that had been drawn by a cartoonist rather than created by Mother Nature.

Finally we arrived at Le Tunnel, took Le Shuttle and came back home to Blighty.

The following morning, coffee-cup in hand, and still wearing in my pyjamas, I went out for a look at my own little garden. It's looking a little wilder, and a little shaggier than I'd like it to. My daffodils are history, but my bluebells are wonderful. 


Whatever you're doing for the weekend, I hope you have a good one!

All the best,

Bonny x



Thursday 24 April 2014

Loopy cushion: cushion makeover part 3

Isn't it a bore when you get back from holidays? There's always so much laundry and sorting out to be done. And then we've had the lovely rain to welcome us back. Yippee ... so glad I came home (NOT). Still mustn't complain we've got a bank holiday to look forward to the weekend after next, and I'm already making plans for some long, lazy downtime in the country.

And here, at last, is my loopy cushion. It's a pity that I didn't get him finished in Spain. As I've been sewing him up today I'm sure I've smelt the spray from the sea in his stitches. A lot of the work that went into his creation took place on the beach, with the waves breaking at my feet, and Emi and Maxi jumping in and out of the surf like a pair of crazies. Anyway - ta-dah - here he is:




Don't you think he's divinely loopy? I'm planning a contrasting/ matching jacquard bigger brother that he can lean against on my very boring beige sofa back in the sun. He should look good with my first two cushions. Remember them? Here they are:

Astrakan and Striped Cushions
Believe it or not, this little loopy cushion is the exact same colour and shade as the lime contrast in the striped cushion. What a difference the sunshine makes! You can find out how to make these other cushions if you click here:  Astrakan Cushion Pattern and here: Striped Cushion Pattern

I'm building up quite a little cushion family - and I've still got a shed-load of that wool. As I've said before I may well have to resort to knitting myself a matching/ contrasting carpet to use it all up.

As with the other cushions, this one is super easy to make. My cushion measured 21' (54 cm) x 13.5" (34 cm) and I used about 150 yards of Bonus Chunky in shade 0785 to make it. My crochet hook was 5.00 mm/ American size 7.

If you'd like to have a go, here's how to crochet it.

I chained 56 stitches to start off.

Then I worked a first row of double crochet (American single crochet), starting with a double crochet into the second chain from the needle.

At the end of the first row, chain 1 to turn, and work a double crochet (American single crochet) into the last double crochet stitch of the previous row. Now you need to work a loop stitch into every stitch in the row except the last stitch, which should be a normal double crochet. The idea in not working loops to the very end is to make it easier to sew everything together when you're done.

Here's how to do the loop stitch: insert your needle as though you were about to work a normal double crochet stitch, but instead of winding the yarn around your needle, raise your index finger and wind the yarn around your finger to create a loop, then draw both ends of the loop over your needle as though it were a single yarn, and work the double crochet stitch with the double ends of the loop. This will create a loop that falls on the right side of your work. You will work these loop stitches only on wrong side rows.

I've reworked this part as a sample to show you what it should look as you work the loop stitch.

1. Insert the needle as though you were going to work a normal double crochet:


2. Raise your index finger and wrap the yarn around it to make an extravagant loop:


3. Treat the loop as though it were a single strand of wool, and draw both sides of the loop through the double crochet from the last row:


4. You now have both ends of the loop and the normal loop from the last stitch on the needle (let's say that's three loops on the needle). Pass the wool over and draw all three loops through to finish.


5. You will now have a loop worked on the right side of the fabric like so:


With a bit of practice you'll soon have all your loops the same size. And even if you don't it's not the end of the world: it just makes a slightly shaggier looking cushion.

Now back to the cushion: you need to carry on doing loop stitches all the way along the wrong side row, ending with a normal double crochet stitch to make sewing up easier.

The next row, which will be a right side row, is just a row of double crochets, with a single chain for turning.

Keep on going repeating those two rows until your work is the right length to cover your cushion and cast off on a wrong side row so that you have loops all the way to the top of your cushion.

Next work the back of the cushion. Cast on 56 stitches, and work a double crochet into the second stitch from the needle and into each successive stitch across the row.

Work one chain to turn and repeat on the next row.

Keep on going until your back is the same size as your front.

Cast off, sew up and admire your cushion.

Happy Thursday!


Bonny x


Monday 21 April 2014

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot

I'd hate to give the impression that the Costa Brava was only about the beaches and the lovely turquoise-green sea. It so isn't. There are loads of other places to see and things to do.

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
Peratallada


And one of my favourite other places is Peratallada, which sits like a little jewel on the flat plains of Baix Empordà, surrounded by rich farmland.

Peratallada has known good times and bad times, and, like many of the other settlements in the area, is heavily fortified with a deep moat and strong defensive walls. You know the old Chinese curse: may you live in interesting times? Well, the good folk of Peratallada have lived through some very interesting times, as is reflected in the town's architecture.

A few days' ago Emi, Maxi and I took a wander round. Would you like to see what grabbed our attention? Come on, let's give you a tour.


Peratallada simply oozes history; it feels like the mortar that holds the whole place together. People have lived here since forever. No, it's true: the place started out as a stone quarry way back in the Bronze Age. The bedrock of the town is solid sandstone, from which it takes its name Petra Tallada - carved stone - in old Catalan. Most of the houses have been built with stone that was dug out of the defensive moat that encircles them. Back in the 1960's when they fixed up the former palace of the Barons of Cruïlles and Peratallada in the centre of the town they found capades de moro, little recesses carved into the stone of its foundations, in which the early inhabitants had placed the funerary urns of their dead. Archeologists dated these to the 4th to 5th centuries BC. So, you see, folk have been calling this place "mi pueblo" for at least two and a half millennia.

The moat and a considerable part of the outer defensive walls have survived.

Here is the Virgin Mary's Gate, which leads into town from the main road.

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
Virgin Mary's gate


And this is how it used to look back in the day:



It's called the Virgin Mary's gate because it once held a statue of the Virgin, in a little niche that faced folk on their way out. From here She conferred Her blessing on everyone as they left the safety of the city walls.

Originally there was a portcullis to close the gate securely, and a drawbridge that was hauled up to keep the bad guys at bay when the occasion demanded.

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
Virgin Mary's Gate with a niche for image of the Virgin
And if you look down as you're going out this way you'll get a really good view of the moat. It's quite a piece of work, especially when you consider the toil involved in hewing it out of the sold rock by hand.

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
Views of the moat at the Virgin Mary's Gate

Can you see how the city walls are sitting on metres of solid sandstone? If you look carefully you can see the chisel marks made by generations of townsmen as they've carved their way down through the bedrock, digging out stones that they would later haul away to build their homes with.

The Virgin's gate leads straight out to the Church of Saint Stephen, which stands just beyond the protection of the current city walls.

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
Church of Saint Stephen/ Sant Esteve

The church dates from the twelfth century with later additions made over the years as fortunes improved. Sadly it's closed unless they're celebrating Mass inside, and, as I've never managed to make it to for the service, I've not seen the interior.

 

There is, however, an ossuary inside that I'm curious to have a look at. It holds the remains of Baron Gilabert de Cruïlles, who died in 1348. He was actually Gilabert V de Cruïlles, because like many noble families of the day, the Cruïlles clan showed  a marked lack of originality when it came to naming their firstborn sons!

Now, in my opinion, the glory days of Peratallada kicked off in 1250 with the marriage of Gilabert V's grandparents, Gilabert IV de Cruïlles and Guillema de Peratallada.

Guillema had inherited her barony (of Peratallada and Begur) when her brother, Pontius de Peratallada, had died childless. Gilabert IV and Guillema were a bit of a power couple. Both of their families had been important feudal bigwigs who, between them, had pretty much ruled the roost over the rich plains of Baix Empordà, so when they got together they created a dynasty that transcended local, feudal politics and took its place, not just on the national, but on the international stage.

Before he got hitched Gilabert's home had been the village of Cruïlles, just down the road, but it wasn't anything like as well-protected as Peratallada so, after they'd tied the knot, he moved his base here, and Peratallada became his principal stronghold.

By this time Catalan fortunes were also on the rise. Catalonia, a self-governing principality under the Crown of Aragon, was the main naval base for the King of Aragon, and it was largely on the back of Catalan seamanship that James I of Aragon was able to conquer Valencia from the Moors in 1238 founding the Kingdom of Valencia, as a third autonomous state (along with Aragon and Catalonia) under the Crown of Aragon.  

Gilabert IV was one of the Catalan knights who distinguished himself in the reconquista. Then, having impressed the King with his knightly prowess, he was sent as the King's ambassador first to the Holy See in Rome in 1266, then in 1273 to the Kingdom of Navarre, then to Foix in 1278 and to France in 1279. 

Gilabert IV remained loyal to James' successor, Pere el Gran, King Peter III of Aragon, the Troubadour King, during the Rebellion of the Catalan Nobles. He achieved a position of confidence with Pere el Gran, going with him to Bordeaux in 1283 to settle the question of the sovereignty of Sicily with Charles of Anjou after the War of the Sicilian Vespers. Pere el Gran, who'd been tipped off that some derring do was in the offing, went in disguise, thereby thwarting an Angevin attempt to abduct him and decisively solve the question of Sicilian sovereignty in their favour.  

The original plan had been to hold a tournament to decide whether the future of Sicily would be Angevin or Aragonese. Trial by battle, way back then, was regarded as due process for the purpose of resolving disputes. There were to be 6 champions to represent each side, and the tournament was to have been adjudicated over by Edward I of England, who was very keen to sort out any niggles between the Christian princes so that they could all team up and head off on another crusade together. The Pope, however, was not happy that the issue should be determined by any due process that did not allow him to control the outcome, and so, at his bidding, Edward did not show up and the tournament never took place, leaving Pere el Gran and Gilabert IV to come home feeling like they'd been on a bit of a wild goose chase.

Being chums with Pere el Gran, and travelling around in his retinue listening to him do his Troubadour thing was, without a doubt, very exciting, but the relationship also carried its downsides. Gilabert IV was a major creditor of both James I and Pere el Gran. Now being owed money by kings could be a dangerous business way back then, as the Knights Templar found out to their cost a few years' later. Poor old Gilabert IV had a bit of a dilemma. He had to maintain his estates, his grandeur and his feudal obligations as a knight, but he couldn't exactly lean on the King to pay up. As a result his finances hit rock-bottom in 1287 and he was forced to sell his dominions of Vulpellac, Sant Climent de Peralta and Sant Feliu de Boada. 

Happily family finances improved under his son Bernat, who had impressed Pere el Gran, fighting by the King's side in the Conquest of Sicily, and who'd also gone to Bordeaux for the trial by tournament that never happened. He went on to flourish as a Catalan Admiral in the service of the Crown of Aragon fighting in North Africa when Tunisia rebelled against the Aragonese. He was later appointed Governor of Valencia.  

Bernat's son, Gilabert V, was also appointed governor of Valencia and Xàtiva in 1329.  Gilabert V had distinguished himself in knightly service to the King, and by now the family had sufficient prestige for him to marry Constança d'Aragó, daughter of the King of Mallorca. He died on 11th July 1348 and, going back to where I started, his are the bones that are interred in the ossuary that I'd like to get a look at inside the church.

Now, let me show you the palace that these very splendid mover-shaker Barons of Cruïlles and Peratallada called home. Here it is:

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
Palace of the Barons of Cruïlles and Peratallada 
It sits in the very centre of the town, protected by another, inner ring of fortifications. They must have felt pretty safe here. Peretallada was regarded as one of the most strongly fortified towns in Catalonia. Moreover in 1395, when an inventory of the contents of the palace was taken for the widow of Gilabert V's son, Gilabert VI, it recorded a dwelling of great opulence furnished with fine tapestries, and velvet curtains, bedecked with plates of gold and silver. 

The inner ring of fortification that encircled the palace and the keep is still in evidence. There are a number of the fortified gate houses built across the streets that led to the central Plaça del Castell. Their function would have been to halt the advance of any besiegers who penetrated the outer wall, giving the folk in the castle time to get to the keep and wait there, within another ring of fortification, for either assistance from their allies, or for their enemies to give up and go home.

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
Inner ring of defense

And here's the keep, with its own outer protective wall. Built in the 11th to 12th centuries it stands 10 metres/ 30 foot high, and can be found in the very centre of the Castle enclosure. Sadly neither the keep nor the palace are open to the public.


Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
The Keep/ Torre de l'Homentatge

Not all of the bridges in town were defensive. Space was at a premium, being limited by the outer defensive wall, so when people wanted to extend their homes they had to do so around the existing public thoroughfares. This led to houses with extensions built on the other side of existing streets and specially built bridges that picturesquely linked the one to the other. Other extensions were simply built above the street on specially created bridges.

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot

Carrying on to the western wall of the city, some of the old watch towers are still intact. 

This is the West Tower: 

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
The West Tower/ Torre Oest

Just look at all those chisel marks on the beautifully made bricks from which it was constructed.

This is how the village looked back in the days when they really had to rely on their defensive walls: 


As you can see there were a number of square and round towers incorporated into the old city walls.


And this is what is left of the last round tower: 

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
The Round Tower
You can still see the arrow slits from which they fired down at the besiegers. 

If you take even a cursory look around there's lots of evidence of the hard manual labour that's gone into building this town. For example if you look down into the moat beside the round tower you'll see lots of the chisel and pick marks left by the people who suffered and sweated, digging out the stone. It's a sobering thought, but, for many of them, these marks are the only physical evidence that they ever lived at all. I wonder how many folk lost their eyesight as a result of rock chips flying off when the the hammer hit the chisel, how many were injured climbing in and out with their hard-won stones, and how many of them were cornered in that moat when the bad guys came calling unexpectedly. If only chisel marks could talk, what a story they might tell... .


And whilst we're talking about marks left on stones, take a look at the way this street, which sits directly on top of the sandstone foundations, has been worn away by the passing cart wheels over the centuries:

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
Calle de la Roca

 But now let's take a look at the bell tower. It had a defensive function as part of the old outer wall. Its arrow slits and small windows were designed to allow the defenders to watch out and fire down on attackers, whilst exposing as little of themselves as possible. Over the years the bell has sounded the alarm when hostile forces have been spotted, summoning those working in the fields beyond the city wall to return, and on other, less fraught, occasions it has simply rung out the passing of the canonical hours.

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
The Bell Tower

One of the most impressive parts of town is the medieval Plaça de les Voltes, which is a wonderful rectangular square with vaulted arches running along one side. Originally more of the square was vaulted, but today only one vaulted side survives.

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot
Plaça de Les Voltes

And there you have them, our highlights of Peratallada, the beautiful stronghold of a powerful dynasty of feudal barons. I hope you've enjoyed our mooch around together.

Peratallada ... the village that time forgot


All the best for now,

Bonny x


Thursday 17 April 2014

Paella ...

My husband has come out to join us for Easter. He flew in yesterday morning. We've missed him, so it's great that we're all back together again. And to celebrate I made him a paella. It's his favourite food.

Over here in Catalonia the seafood paella seems to be the equivalent of our Sunday Roast: the special meal that people make an occasion of eating together. When I go to our friends' houses this is the traditional favourite for a long, lazy Sunday lunch with everyone gathered around the table - al fresco, if the weather's behaving itself - chatting, putting the world to rights and enjoying the food and the good company.

Here's how I make this wonderful dish. It's really not that complicated.

Ingredients

OK! Let's start with the ingredients that I used yesterday.



Selection of sea food: I used this dish of prawns, langoustines, squid rings, clams and mussels for the three of us. With this selection we had three or four of everything mixed in with our rice.
A large onion, finely chopped
3 medium or 2 large tomatoes finely chopped
240 g of paella rice (short-grained rice, similar to risotto rice - in fact use risotto rice if you can't find paella rice). I allow 80 g of rice per person.
A few cloves of sliced garlic
1 litre of tasty stock. In England I'd use a good chicken stock made with the bones of a couple of roast chickens, a couple of carrots, a leek, an onion and two or three sticks of celery with all the lovely celery leaves from whatever celery I had in the fridge. Over here in Spain they sell fabulous ready-made caldo - stock - in cartons in the supermarket. The one I used yesterday was Caldo Casero de Escudella, which is my all-time favourite Spanish stock. It's essentially a chicken stock but one that has been made with vegetables, ham and chick peas and it adds another level of flavour to the paella.
Spices: over here in Spain I use a sachet of Carmencita's paella spice mix, but back in England I'd add a few strands of safron (soaked in a couple of tablespoonfuls of warm water), a half teaspoon of sweet paprika, a good pinch of ground cloves and a few twists of black pepper from the pepper mill.
Salt to taste

Method

Now here's what you need to do:

First up: the shell fish. You need to de-beard the mussels, and wash them with the clams in fresh water. Then I leave them on the side in a bowl of fresh water. De-vein your prawns, removing the little black vein that runs down their back, and leave to one side.

Put the onions in the paella pan with some olive oil (if you don't have one a big frying pan with a lid will work just fine) and cook over a low heat for a few minutes until soft. Add the tomatoes and cook for a few minutes more. Then add the garlic. This is called a sofrito in Spanish, and is the base from which any number of Spanish dishes are made.



Rinse your rice under running water, and add to the sofrito of tomato, onion and garlic. Stir so that the rice is evenly distributed. Add the spices, and stir some more, allowing the heat to release some of their wonderful aromas. Now add the stock, a little at a time, not all in one go. Allow the rice to cook slowly and gently, stirring from time to time to make sure that it doesn't stick. The technique here is similar to making a risotto: add enough liquid to keep things moving on the pan but not enough to flood it. Keep a careful eye, and add more as required.



While my rice is cooking I fry the squid, prawns and langoustines in another frying pan and then set them to one side on some kitchen paper when they're done.

When the rice is almost ready add the cooked prawns and langoustines to the paella pan, along with the mussels and clams. Put the lid on, reduce the heat to as low a setting as possible and leave for a few minutes until the shell fish have opened. I use one of those metal diffusers on my gas burner to moderate the temperature below the lowest gas setting.



When your shell fish have opened you're good to go. Serve up with quarters of lemon and enjoy!



And there's one little chap who's a big fan of my cooking. He sat quietly in the corner watching all my work in the kitchen, sniffing the air appreciatively:



Wishing you a very Happy Easter!

All the best,


Bonny x

Monday 14 April 2014

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road ...

Do you know what I'd do if I won the lottery - well, what I'd do after I'd picked myself up off the ground in astonishment cos' I never buy a ticket!!

I'd buy my perfect beach house, which is this lovely, but sadly neglected, little gem sitting quietly by the Platja de Sant Pol, in S’Agaró.

What do you think of my dream home?

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road ...
Xalet de les Punxes, S’Agaró, Costa Brava, Spain
It was built back in 1890's by the Estrada family, who were the big guys in town with a major-league cork business. Although way back then, there wasn't much of a town to speak of. It was designed by Josep Casals i Goday, who was part of the Catalan Modernist movement. There had been some sort of old fisherman's shack on the site, which was re-developed and turned into this zany house with spires pointing up to heaven, and something that looks like a minaret in the centre.

S'Agaro ... the pueblo down the road ...
Xalet de les Punxes, S'Agaro
Can you imagine how fabulous it would look if it were to be restored to its former glory? And the garden behind ... well I'd arrange that like one of the great Moorish gardens of the south: all lush green leaves and sweet-smelling damask roses, jasmine and orange blossom; there'd be the tinkle of running water from a little fountain, and light dancing across a lily pond. I'd have a few cunningly placed alcoves, where I could sit and enjoy the sunshine from the cool of the shade. It would be somewhere beyond amazing.

And can you imagine waking up in the morning and looking out at this:

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road ...
Platja de Sant Pol, S’Agaró

That, my friends, would be the view from my bedroom window.





S’Agaró is a bit of a jewel on the Costa Brava. For one thing it boasts a glorious sandy beach with the most wonderful fine golden sand. When the sun shines down on the breaking waves the grains of sand suspended in the water sparkle like gold dust. The beach is crescent shaped, and you can walk quite a distance out to sea before there is much depth to the water, making it perfect for the little ones.

The only down-side to all this wonderfulness is that the secret is out, and in the summer it's gets really, really busy. For me that's a bit of deal-breaker, so I'll only go there late in the afternoon during July and August. It tends to empty out a bit as the day goes by, which suits me just fine. I love people, but I hate crowds. And I hate crowds of people all jostling for a square metre of sand to lay their towels on. Life's just too short ... .

Here's a photo from last August of my boys putting to sea in their very own super-yacht. As you can see, the water is also a tad on the busy side ... .


They've got a very funky water-sports centre in the middle of the beach where you can kit yourself out with whatever kind of equipment you need.


And if you go down there these days you more or less have the place to yourself. At this time of the year it's a great beach for walking, kite-flying and, during the Easter holidays, we've been known to go for the odd spur-of-the-moment swim.

Dotted along the seafront are some acceptable restaurants ... but the best place in town is the Taverna del Mar. This gets my vote for being the prettiest restaurant on the Costa Brava. Inside it's decorated with a beautiful deep sea-blue and white colour scheme that shouts seaside chic, and if you get a table by a window you will have the most amazing views out to sea. The food is top notch with a firm emphasis on seafood as you might expect from its name and location. I've spent many happy nights of my life in there feasting with friends and family.

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road
The fabulous Taverna del Mar
Also sitting regally on the shoulder of the hill on the other side of town is the hotel, La Gavina, the grand old lady of the Costa Brava. This is one of the very nicest hotels in Spain with a swimming pool terrace that is to die for. It has a salt water swimming pool - so much nicer than chlorine - and amazing views down across the bay. In summer they do open-air weddings up there on a rather splendid terrace with people taking their vows against the glorious backdrop of the bay. Back in the golden age of Hollywood loads of the big stars came here. Charlie Chaplin, Orson Welles, Frank Sinatra, Ava Gardner, Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Elizabeth Taylor, Peter Sellers, John Wayne and Dirk Bogarde have all passed this way. And for my money they've left a sprinkling of their glitzy star dust behind. It's a special place.

One of my favourite things about S’Agaró is the Camí de Ronda, the coast path, that leads off to either side of the village. I can start out in my village, Sant Feliu de Guíxols, and take this little path, up over the cliffs, down into secluded coves, past the bare, rugged rocks where the seagulls build their nests, through the pine forest and then on to the Platja de Sant Pol.

I hook up with the path just above the harbour in Sant Feliu. It takes me over the cliff where I can look back and see my village and its harbour wall below:

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road ...
Sant Feliu harbour
At this time of the year wild flowers bloom in profusion. Spanish lavender, with its big blowsy flowers, grows everywhere, and wallflowers cling to the faces of the cliffs. As you walk along the path you brush against wild rosemary releasing that lovely aromatic smell that always makes me want to go home and roast some lamb for dinner. Little white rock roses, with starry yellow centres are everywhere, and unlike normal roses they don't have any bothersome thorns.



Then you can chose to take a detour down the steep, stone steps to this little hidden cove. It's a good place to sit and think as the sunlight dances across the water illuminating the rocks beneath.

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road ...

The path goes up and down, steps, steps and more steps, but they're all worth it, because around every corner there's something stonkingly, jaw-droppingly beautiful to look at.

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road ...

I mean, just look at the mesmerising colour of the sea in the photo above. I've done nothing to it, no Photoshop jiggery-pokery, nothing at all to change the saturation or the temperature.


This hillside was covered with Spanish lavender. It smells divine as you walk through it in the hot sunshine, and on the rocks below a colony of sea gulls are guarding their nests, calling out into the still air as they watch the water below for any tasty morsel that they can swoop down and catch for their hatchlings.

Keep on going and you'll come to Platja de Sant Pol. Just before you hit the sand you'll find some great rock pools, where you can hunt for aquatic mini beasts if that's your scene. My son, Emi, is a big fan. Here he is, net in hand, Maxi the wonder dog by his side.


And if you keep on going across the beach, you'll pick up the Camí de Ronda coast path again just below La Gavina, the famous hotel.

On this side of town the path becomes broader, there are fewer steps and it feels more like something that's been developed for the guests of La Gavina to take a pre-prandial stroll along in their dressed-for-dinner finery. That's not to say that it isn't beautiful: it is, but it just feels a little bit more suburban.

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road ...

It winds around coves and rocks, and past some seriously expensive real estate. Lots of people come here for a run, or to walk their dogs.

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road ...
Camí de Ronda

I love the Costa Brava pine trees, which look particularly wind-blown along this stretch of the pathway. They smell wonderful as the hot sun beats down on them, and, as the summer progresses, the local children make a play to collect their pine nuts.

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road

Camí de Ronda
There are plenty of shelters, viewing points and benches to sit on and admire the scenery.
S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road ...

Camí de Ronda
The path meanders round the cliffs until it reaches the Platja Sa Conca, a wonderful beach which usually has bigger waves than Platja de Sant Pol. A word of caution: the sand drops away more dramatically here and the beach, in profile, is quite strongly concave so it's a bit more challenging for swimming in. Watch your little ones carefully if they aren't confident swimmers.


S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road ...
Platja de Sa Conca

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road
Platja de Sa Conca

If you fancy some tamer water there's a stretch at the far end of the beach that is a little more protected by the rock formations that jut out into the water. There are lots of huge rocks in the water, but you can avoid them as they stand out clearly against the sandy bed. The sand down that end is finer and much better for building sandcastles with.

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road ...
Platja de Sa Conca

S’Agaró ... the pueblo down the road ...
Platja de Sa Conca

This beach gets pretty busy in high summer as well, although maybe not quite so much as the Platja de Sant Pol. With its bigger, rolling waves it's a great spot for collecting sea glass. There's a little cafe beside a pyramid climbing frame at the side of the beach, which is a good spot to grab a sandwich and a cold drink.

We can happily spend the day here, jumping in and out of the water, playing beach football, gathering sea glass, making friends with the multitude of children who play on the climbing frame and exploring the rock pools. It's all very relaxed and family friendly.

And then, at the end of the day, we'll retrace our steps along the Camí de Ronda, tired, sun-kissed, wild-haired and ready for dinner.


Bonny x

Also shared with  P52 Sweet Shot Tuesday
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