Well, it’s been over a week since returning from Barcelona, but I simply haven’t had time to sit down and write and so I thought that now was an opportune moment. I wanted to put into writing our meeting with the little old man. We were following one of the walking routes in Lonely Planet along the area of El Raval. Not really knowing what the sights were in the area we were walking in I saw a sign for ”hortas” (which means gardens) and so we decided no harm would be done in checking it out. As we walk over there is a closed gate and a little old man is stood outside holding a plastic bag and bucket. He was clearly leaving, and as we approached he very kindly informed us that the gate was locked. We smiled and I explained that we just wanted to take a peek and take a few photos (meaning through the gaps in the gate). I asked if we could take a photo of him with his produce (he looked like your typical old spanish man).
His response was heart warming in that he promptly put down what he had in his hands and took up his key. We were going to get a personal guided tour of the garden. Now, the gardens weren’t your ”show-off” gardens with lots of flowers and lawns and stuff, but a small area with 9 patches for 9 people to have their vegetable gardens in the middle of the big city. The little old man (which we forgot to ask the name of, and who I just addressed as ”senhõr” which is the polite way in Portuguese and so I figured the same thing probably applied to Spanish) told us he’d been selected through a lottery as the lucky user of patch 8. This was 5 years ago and he wasn’t sure if the re-evaluation would grant him the continued use of the patch.
His response was heart warming in that he promptly put down what he had in his hands and took up his key. We were going to get a personal guided tour of the garden. Now, the gardens weren’t your ”show-off” gardens with lots of flowers and lawns and stuff, but a small area with 9 patches for 9 people to have their vegetable gardens in the middle of the big city. The little old man (which we forgot to ask the name of, and who I just addressed as ”senhõr” which is the polite way in Portuguese and so I figured the same thing probably applied to Spanish) told us he’d been selected through a lottery as the lucky user of patch 8. This was 5 years ago and he wasn’t sure if the re-evaluation would grant him the continued use of the patch.
He showed us his augergines, cucumbers (with flowers on the tip which is the part with the most flavour- I didn’t know that), tomatoplants, and gave us a large bunch of assorted herbs (mint, rosemary). It was so sweet. As we were leaving he asked me to guess his age (what on earth do you guess then…I mean, you risk deep offense), so I took a shot and guessed 70. That was not correct and after a few tries we were informed that he was 86 (or was it 87). He was a widower and as he put it himself ”my garden is my life!”. Not being a huge eater he would come and harvest whatever was ripe every day and then give it away to his neighbours, the people in the pharmacy, and probably any other person in want of some home-grown vegetables.
As we left him to lock up the gate he said that whenever we were around we were welcome to come along and see his garden, to which we said we were very grateful for his time and that it had been lovely to speak with him. Then we continued on our way, but now carrying our bunch of herbs which smelt like a mixture of rosemary and mint.
Now you might wonder how we managed to communicate. Did this little old man speak English? Well, I was very pleasantly surprised to find that when other languages weren’t available for communication, I managed to get by quite comfortably in an improvised Spanish (created by the Spanish I’ve picked up along the way and a spanification of Portuguese). I didn’t understand everything he said, and I might very well have misunderstood parts, but I did feel like we were communicating well, and in this situation that was what was important.
As we left him to lock up the gate he said that whenever we were around we were welcome to come along and see his garden, to which we said we were very grateful for his time and that it had been lovely to speak with him. Then we continued on our way, but now carrying our bunch of herbs which smelt like a mixture of rosemary and mint.
Now you might wonder how we managed to communicate. Did this little old man speak English? Well, I was very pleasantly surprised to find that when other languages weren’t available for communication, I managed to get by quite comfortably in an improvised Spanish (created by the Spanish I’ve picked up along the way and a spanification of Portuguese). I didn’t understand everything he said, and I might very well have misunderstood parts, but I did feel like we were communicating well, and in this situation that was what was important.
Below (hopefully as I am writing this in word) I’ve put some photos of me and the little old man, and also some other photos from Barcelona capturing some moments and things that caught my attention. Ok, so I only manage to add these two pictures- I don't know what I am doing wrong...
But I suppose the questions are: can you spot me in the Gaudí park? And where does this soft drink originally come from?
