Es necesario amar siempre....
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It is necessary to always love, even after having loved.... |
Or - The art of growing old.....
Dear Little One,
We are in Palma de Mallorca for H's birthday....
Of course you should be with us, but, sadly, it cannot be. We did come here together, with the girls, in July 2004, long before you became ill, staying in a lovely B'n'B in Soller with a swimming pool and a view of the mountains. I would say, You remember? But, you can't....
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Soller |
It is strange, to me, that I only recall fragments of that stay. My recollections are usually pretty clear, but some of this has slipped. It was the summer after we moved to Harpenden, and I think we were all pretty exhausted. We must have left shortly after the end of term and it had been a fraught year. I probably didn't want to remember.....
One thing we didn't do, then, was visit Valldemossa and pay our respect to Frédéric François Chopin, who stayed here for a cold and wet winter in 1838, coughing blood and composing his Preludes. He is still here, in spirit, with his friend, French novelist Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin, also known as George Sand (the taller one):
Though in a way he looks better without his trousers:
I have always loved Chopin's music - his Nocturnes have soothed me through many a stressful moment, and though he had a pretty miserable time here and was not at all well, it is curious to see where he resided. At the end of December 1838 he wrote to a friend that he was staying, Between the cliffs and the sea, [in] a huge deserted Carthusian monastery, where in a cell with doors larger than any carriage-gateway in Paris you may imagine me with my hair unkempt, without white gloves and pale as ever. The cell is shaped like a tall coffin, the enormous vaulting covered with dust, the window small. In front of the window are orange trees, palms, cypresses; opposite the window is my camp-bed under a Moorish filigree rose-window.....
The view from his cell garden has not changed much..... As George Sand wrote in A Winter in Mallorca:
It is a sublime picture: the foreground framed by dark, fir-covered rocks, the middle distance by bold mountains fringed with stately trees, the near background by rounded hillocks which the setting sun gilds warmly, and on whose crests the eye can make out, though a league away, the outlines of microscopic trees, delicate as a butterfly antennae, but as sharply black as the stroke of a pen in Indian ink on a field of sparkling gold.
Yet the sea lies still farther in the background and, when the sun returns in the morning and the plain resembles a blue lake, the Mediterranean sets a limit to this dazzling vista with a strip of brilliant silver.
So. That was one visit.
H and I also had a look at the Cathedral in Palma, which I do remember driving past with you. It is a formidable building, but lacks some of the delicacy I have always associated with you. I think you might have gasped. I think you would have understood how God was so important. But I don't think you would have been touched to your heart. There's a confusion about it which doesn't seem to suit your sense of peace.....
And anyway there are still men at work on the detail:
In a way a more impressive building is the fifteenth century Sa Llotja (La Loggia, in Italian). Once a kind of stock exchange, it was where merchants met to trade on the waterfront, before, later, becoming a warehouse. You would have danced in here!
We went to Deià (one time home of Robert Graves) where, almost twenty years ago, we had swum in the clear waters with the girls, and had some lunch on the beach. This time H and I were lucky and, having walked down a steep and narrow path to the sound of numerous Nightingales, (H with a broken foot, though she didn't know it then) we were given a table at Ca's Patro March, where we had some wonderfully fresh Sea Bream and Squids.....
She happy!
Later that day we swam at Puerto de Soller and relaxed on the beach (where S had cut her foot - you remember? No..... We had to go to the hospital? No? Ah well. It was a drama, but no harm came of it.....)
Anyway it was relaxing this time. And then we took the tram up to Soller and then the rickety old wooden train back down to Palma. Again something we didn't do (I think) last time.
On our last day, as H wished, we went to a beach club [Balneario Illetas] where we rented an umbrella and sunbeds (as you loved to do) and read and lazed and thought of ice cream and cool drinks.....
We had a little lunch here too, surrounded by the smart and the lovely. There is a fashion here for women who are beginning to grow older to have special lips. I am so glad that you (like me) didn't go down that route.....
I think it must be the Sangria.....
In the evening, which was warm and still sunny, we walked around Palma, enjoying the. buzz, and taking our time. You would have loved the shops, the sights, the clothes, the shoes!
The people, as far as we could determine, were friendly and kind. The Paseo (Passeggiata in Italian) is a relaxed start to the evening, for those with friends:
And even, perhaps, for those without:
We missed your company, terribly. You would have made us happy, though this was not a trial. It would have been lovely to have wandered and chattered and smiled with you - as we did, on our last trip, before the pandemic, to Kraków - you remember? No..... Ahhhh.....
It was pleasant to drift along the Avenidas, to step in and out of bars, to sit for a while with a drink, as people do:
It is nice to think, for a moment, that the world is not all anxiety, unkindness, greed and illness:
And to find a genuine welcome, and good food, to round off a long day of pleasure.... Thank you Carlos and La Rosa Vermutería:
I just wish you could have been with us - you would have been so happy......
Later, I get lost in the old town, wandering with a mish-mash of memories. Thoughts of the time we came here, with our young girls, and thoughts of the many many trips, all over Europe, and the world, that you and I made.
I remember our later excursions, when you were tiring and I would put you to bed in our hotel and then slip out for a drink and a read of the current book. So I wandered, leaving you to sleep and me to dream.
This time, I have Chopin in my head. Opus 55, No 1 in F Minor will do. Beautifully paced for a darkling stroll. Plaza Mayor is bright but quiet:
The nearby alleys are even quieter. People have their secrets. I nurse my sadness:
Given the lateness of the hour, the state of the world, and our thin-skinned vulnerabilities, it is no wonder that even the graffiti is confused......
Good night, sweetheart. I will see you soon. It's been a good trip and H has had a good time. I'm only sorry that you couldn't be with us, but such is the hand the dealer grants us, and there's nothing to do that will change the cards.
I cannot help but feel a sense of guilt, but know that you would not wish me to succumb so..... You were, I suspect, always stronger than me, so.....
Salud! Little One....
Para ti!
There is no art to growing old. There is only art to life.....
Beautiful, Richard.
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