4 nov

Ended up in Montblanc. Not the French mountain, but a Spanish hilltop, very close to the Cistercian monastery of Poblet, that we visited. Claire took the 6.34 pm train from Montblanc. The station was basically a bar where the bartender didn’t understand the word bierra. It does sound so spanish to me, but he only reacts to Cerveza. Which sounds better and the one he served tasted better too, in fact.
Started the day with a swim with Claire in the Mediterranee. This is the beginning of november but the water was warmer than the temperature outside, which had dropped below 20 (70’s). Felt good, the swim. Claire even washed her hair there.
Then went to see the town Tarragona which was the capital of Roman Spain, and had an impressive cathedral that we didn’t visit. Claire has a clear limit of one church a day and we knew we were going to visit Poblet later. That one church a day is a pretty recent thing. As a kid she hobbled happily behind her parents visiting endless churches and museums, not realizing that other kids had vacations were you would actually do fun things.
Poblet was amazing. It is an enormous complex, built in the second half of the twelfth century within 50 years. Saint Bernard, with a lovely statue in the cloister room – the first statue of Bernard we’ve seen – would not have approved of the large towers and the ample decoration. But the whole church and cloister and all the other rooms were done with so much respect and skilfulness that we considered this negligence of Bernard’s rules a blessing.
Another strange thing happened. I was tempted to buy a statue of Jesus on the cross. Nobody from my generation (in Holland) buys Jesus-statues. It is hopelessly old-fashioned. But I think they can be so powerful and meaningful. And one does need symbols in ones life. It is just kind of silly always to try to come up with new ones, I begin to think. Mao or Che, or Marilyn or Nelson or sister Theresa. Old wine in new bags, they are. Why not go for the real ting, I was wondering. I have happy memories about Jesus. My parents had a beautiful statue and a beautiful cross, but at one point the cross disappeared and now I am not sure anymore where Jesus hangs.
In the abbeychurch of Poblet there was a beautiful Jesus on the cross above the altar. Real 12th century crafty carving. Simple but deep expressions on his face. It is not nothing when you have to realize that the whole world’s suffering is weighing on your shoulders. And Jesus did realize it. At least this Jesus. There was a very good copy for sale at the gift shop. At the end didn’t buy it. Pastoor van Ars, Jesus, it might get too busy in our house. Or, as Claire reacted, you do not even have a house. Children will always bring you back down to earth, when necessary.
We are going to stay here in Montblanc, an enormous campground made for campers and caravans (but at this time of the year almost empty) for two nights. It is one of the only campgrounds in the area that is still open. I need electricity and access to wifi to write a few articles, and finish some others. Then we will go right through the Pyrenees back to France. I Wonder if Merlin is up to these kinds of mountains. It is a five gear camper. The fourth gear is pretty much useless. The fifth works fine when the road is not challenging. The third gear is sufficient for a decent hill, but mountains, that is a different story. Ah well, still two gears left to find out.