Mountains and woods
from the gentlest Pyrenean peaks
which fell in love with the sea
and became one with the waves.
A refuge for tortoises, eagles’ nests,
hermitages, dolmens and menhirs.
A frontier peak,
Albera traces out the paths
of farewell and welcome.
In every corner of Empordà,
the magic mountain takes on its full form
dressed in white like bride.
An enchanted massif,
retreat of witches and wizards,
monasteries and sweet-smelling herbs.
Canigó links the two Catalonias.
was born here,
and here conceived his surrealism.
Son of the wind, of dreams,
of exaggerated feeling and eccentricities.
être Dieu, a genius!
Salvador wasn’t the only or the first.
Or the last: every morsel from this land
contains hidden illusion, fantasy and reality.
Cap de creus or the end of the world,
finis terrae, where the sea turns mad
and life reverts to the beginning of time.
Jagged peninsula of shipwrecks,
pirates’ dens and corral reefs.
The beams from the lighthouse
dispel fear of the darkness.
Here is where the sun first appears.
Here you can see the small alpine hut,
the haven of travellers
in search of shelter, seclusion and warmth.
Also a refuge for love.
Outside it can rain, snow, blow a gale
and scorch the earth;
the weather always suits your mood.
To sleep like angels.
Wind from the north,
cold and dry,
loved, yet hated
when it blows a whole week long.
It cleans the air and spirit, drives away the mosquitoes,
spurs the imagination,
and capsizes boats.
Those from Empordà are said
to have the wind in their heads.
where land and sea become one,
land of fields and lagoons,
a bird and wildlife paradise.
Here you feel like an explorer.
Ten thousand years ago or more
came the first voyagers:
birds an eels who before travelling the earth,
stopped here and stayed.
The mother of olives, of olive oil,
of Mediterranean cuisine,
of good health.
Noble, thousand-years olive trees,
with trembling leaves and solid wood,
the most civilized tree.
the oil press is the real school
for sustainable environments.
Bacchus could well have come from Garriguella,
and been born in September,
when the harvest electrifies this land.
The grapes are pearls;
the bottles, necklaces.
The vines mirror life,
sweat soaks the land.
The spirit of wine, the blood of men.
To drink is to experience life.
Testudo hermanni hermanni,
or Mediterranean tortoise, a protected species.
In Garriguella, a happy tortoise.
The Reproduction Centre
guarantees this genus a long life,
to add to its million years of existence.
When travelling, we should all like
a protective shell,
to carry our roof above us.
the first tourist out of need.
Storks choose their stop well,
pick the best views,
and the following year, return.
In the wetlands of Castelló
they guard the ponds jealously.
They fly and nest like a fleeting thought;
they spread their wings and write a book.