Dennis Hollingsworth

CAPRABO

I think I've kept my blogging audience in the studio a bit too long, with all of those "Ahoras" taken indoors, living like mushrooms, troglodyte that I am.

And the refrigerator is a bit empty, it's time to go to the grocery store and replenish food.

Let's get some sun and go for a walk, ok?

***A note of caution (bandwidth alert!): this particular blogpost contains sixty pictures. It's a slice of life kind of thing (art snob alert!), no artworld stuff to speak of...

...but isn't the division between art and life a little arbitrary, no?

Got your keys, sunglasses, camera, grocery lists, handcart, check?

Oh yea, and we are going to recycle the plastic bottles too.

Passing by the hotel Tonet and the Church...

We're taking a slight detour to deposit the recycling stuff. This route takes us through streets that are under construction. Tossa is installing natural gas for the first time and streets are sequentially getting ripped up in the off season. Our street gets it next winter.

This is the lull before the storm, of tourists that is. We've been warned about Tossa winters. My mother for one, describes it as "the Shining". But I like it (of course, I'm in my studio most of the time.), I like having the streets to myself. Stay tuned for summer street fotos to show the difference.

Our walk takes us past the house of culture, a community center outfitted with meeting rooms, a small theater and classrooms.

Yes, virtue incarnate! Mother Earth sighs in relief!

We meet Paco and his dad along the way. Paco works for Kiko, a hard worker, a good man he is. He cleans up real good too, it's funny to see him out of work clothes. I like his bearing, his civility, a real gentleman. It's nice that he takes his dad out for a paseo.

This street is flanked by hotels. Located in an out of the way part of town, these two hotels on the right are always packed with tourists in the summer. It's as if they are content to hang by the pool and never leave the hotel. Strange.

I'm glad I was able to capture Stephanie, the side of this nice old building and the dude on the quad. People don't usually strap on their helmets, chin straps can be seen flapping in the breeze or clipped up over the top. Helmets are used like ballcaps. Old guys like this one are too cool for school to sport the helmet.

A right turn onto the main street. Bar Comics is a Dutch owned bar, so I've heard. We're going to take a pit stop at the coffee shop La Granja just a few steps ahead.

Here we are, ready for a little coffee and the best croissants in Tossa.

The weather is good, so let's sit outside.

Panorama, take it all in.

The cafe con leche is hot, the croissant is chewy. Yes. A Franklin pocket
translator and una revista de TeleNovellas.

This is the crux of Tossa, a crossing of main streets. It deserves it's own panoramic treatment, but no.

On to Caprabo!

The street leaps over the river here.

Tossa is a watershed for this area and the town straddles what can be a pretty fierce river when the storms hit. This spring is a dry one. The wet months are October and April. These people are big on their mushrooms and they will bum out bigtime if this Fall is another dry one.

Ah, our destination is in sight. ?Caprabo!

In Los Angeles, going to the store means jumping into the car. There, you buy food for an extended time. The food you buy has to handle the extend time intervals. Eating processed food fattens you up, so you have to drive to the gym to strenously work it off.

Here in the village, the refrigerator has a virtual treadmill in front of it. The food is fresher and the workout is natural. You meet friends along the way.

Notice the Catalan language signage, a seeming creole of French and Spanish (with apologies to my Catalan friends, Catalan is indeed a bonafide language and culture, this is true).

And the Spanairds are big on yogurt. I could go on, but I won't.

Suffice it to say that Dannon owns this place.

You've got to wiegh and price your own vegetables. There is not the variety that you would find in a 21st century speed of light megalopolis... shrug. One must learn to cook with what is available.

This day was a Sunday, so the fish counter is a little skinny.

On Fridays, this place is packed with people buying the weekend dinners. It's interesting to watch the lady behind the counter work, the tricks of the trade worthy of another blogpost of its own.

We haven't eaten the funny eel-like fish yet. There is another kind of fish that looks like spaghetti. It's sold here in small packages and people relish it as if it was pasta. I'm going to have go a little more native to do that.

The big mouthed one is called Rape (rah-peh). The body is very meaty. Its habitat is in the rocks under camouflage, angling virtual bait for its unwitting victims. Octopus (pulpos) are it's favorite meal.

We keep it pretty simple though. It'll take a few years living here to chow down on the catch of the day the way the locals do.

Usually as we shop Caprabo, we bump into Ramon, my carpenter. He likes to cook for his family, and he's always found prowling the aisles with a list in hand. A loving husband and father he is, a good man.

Trade secret: he doesn't like to use the cell phone, so I know that I can find him here or at the BusBar (dominos y una copa de vino with the fellas) after work.

I wish I could make a photo essay on the way they handle meat here.

IT'S CRAZY! They're chopping and handling everything and meat's flying and they're touching bags and not washing hands and gutting chickens and mixing poultry with beef and pork and the hands that stuff the chicken tear off the reciept and tape it onto the bag with bits of flesh all over the bag... oh man, oh man. Talk about earthiness...

And ham is a big deal too. The very best is Iberico ham, made from wild boars who eat "only the acorns that drop from Spanish oaks"... they say the fat from such meat is healthier than the best olive oil. Stephanie converted back to meat after twenty years of vegetarianism, shortly before we arrived in Tossa last year. She loves the jamon iberico, loves it. De verdad.

I wonder if we can return with a big ol' boar leg through US customs?

You have to bag your own.

Mission accomplished.

A view down the main street. This axis is along a coastal road from Lloret to the South to San Felieu to the North. Like big Sur, the road winds alot, very scenic.

Telephoto up the street and you might be able to see the bus station, a hub of the pueblo.

We'll take a left turn here into the main shopping street.

The higher priced grocery store, Palau, is on the left where the gentleman with the Barvarian hat is standing. A higher price point, but you can find exotic stuff like... peanut butter.

I like the "room" of the street, the containment of social space with nice proportions and a good brace of uses to eliven it.

We'll take a right turn towards the Bar Savoy...

Here, one of the best bars in Tossa. The people are super real, smart, friendly, cool. The prices are fantastic, the food is very good for bar food. A few tables outside make for a nice way to pass the time and inside, the proportion of the interior space is excellent for hanging out with friends.

Muy bien, hombres. Mercedes, the owner, is wonderful and sweet.

The theater interior is like something that time travelled from the sixties. It has a full bar inside. A cocktail with your movie, como no?

Pan to the right and check out how the big dogs are doing. An old Catalan guy is maintaining his finca and plot of land in the middle of town, in the ways of old. Three big dogs a fenced garden and a tiny grove of olive trees. He's keeping it real. They like to say: "We are simple people."

(Stephanie leans over and says: "Sixty pictures! Why not twenty?" But honey, how can we take a walk and not note the ferreteria -hardware store- where we buy our stuff?)

Continuing. This street cuts across town at a higher elevation. it's kid a cool street, full of odd shops.

I had to shoot these handmade signs. Carmen owns a pension down the way. She's a lovable crone ( I write this affectionately) who is from somewhere South where people eat their vowels. She's the mayor of the street.

The Tipic Bar is owned by a guy who lived in California for most of his life (stories of gang life, a little prison time and long haul trucking) but is a Swiss citizen who was born in Mexico City. A colorful fellow. It will take a few beers at his bar to get the whole story.

Resuming...

A right turn...

This littel curio holds court on the street in the window of this tourist shop. It's a funny ha-ha chester the molester toy a la Hustler Magazine style (with all the charm that implies). Crowds of toursits flock to the window to see him open his coat and flash is penis to the world.

Funny, maybe... but there's something wrong here. Maybe it's that such humor in a place like a bar is one thing, but to mainstream deviancy onto mainstreet is another. It makes me think of -what's his name? ... the guy who played the clown at kids birthday parties and later ate them?

Sometimes I think we shouldn't forget the tightrope that we choose to dance on... or lull the innocent into thinking that it's no big deal.

Keep it moving....

This street is another main pedestrian shopping street that bisects the town. It's packed with shops and restaurants.

I forget this guy's name, but he's very affable. He own's a micro shop, Cyclopea... which is supposed to evoke the sun and things to wear and enjoy the sun with. He hangs out in the street alot, a cool character.

A right turn onto our street, Sant Telm.

Look, there's Willie!

Willie is from Scotland. He's a retired firefighter. He's been painting his house that he's renting above Codolar Cove, a great place. Now, he tell us that he's thinking of getting a "...wee bit of work." I love the Scottish accent. I could listen to it all day long.

Resuming...

Stephanie has to stop into the Pharmacy. This one showcases its history.

A blurred pic, but good for a flavor of the interior.

Elixir. I like that word.

This place is for sale, people. Come on, my Angelino friends, this is a hot property! A former restaurant, I don't know how big it is inside. Very rustic. And close to the beach. Think about it, fellow Californians: for most of us, buying a house near the beach in California is out of the question, especially one so ancient. Let's be neighbors!

Keep it moving, we've got groceries in the cart.

Vaya con Dios.

You can see the bullet holes from the Civil War on the fascade.

Keep it moving.

(Check out the dog on the balcony. I think the poor thing is deaf.)

Victoria's home is muy guay, very cool. I'll have to blog her place one day. It's like a ship captain's cabin: small, tightly put together and very efficient.

Home at last.

Posted by Dennis at May 13, 2005 10:35 AM