Once I’d become used to the (freezing cold) waters of Catalan Bay I lay back with arms out-stretched and legs-akimbo doing a very slow doggie-paddle to keep me afloat on the surface while enjoying the fabulous views of the village, Caleta Palace and the water catchment. It was an experience even more enhanced by a sort of musical silence (on account of my ears being underwater); I felt as though I was on one of those 60s ‘trips’ the Beatles sang about on Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds – “Picture yourself as you float down a river…with tangerine houses and Cat-a-lan pies…”.
*
(Caleta Hotel, formerly Caleta Palace. Caleta translates into small cove)
*
I’d never been inside Caleta Palace (now sadly known as Caleta Hotel – which I think takes away a little bit of that mystique I was talking about) although looking up at it I did think it could do with a lick of paint; its image was in sharp contrast to the beautifully painted little houses although I’ve no doubt in my mind it’s a fabulous place to stay. I’m not sure but I think that’s where they held the recent Gibraltar Chess Championships which I would certainly have taken part in, had I lived on the Rock at that time.
*
(Catalan Village Church tucked away).
*
Glancing over at the little church (inside which I had also never been) I cast my mind back to some old photos I’d seen of it which showed villagers leaving after a Sunday service; it didn’t look to me as though it had changed in decades and as with the houses it was lovely to see it looking so beautifully painted and well looked after. Quite poignantly I thought the fishing boat parked outside the church was a lovely reminder that Catalan Bay is a fishing village with a very long and fascinating history of Genoese speakers and though I couldn’t take my little memoir too far down that road (for practical reasons) I can very much recommend interested readers to google for more fascinating information.
*
(Quite an old stock photo I found of Catalan Village Church which I loved)
*
For me the little village of Catalan Bay is right up there on my shortlist for when I begin to paint a series of pictures in 2017 (to complement RockHeart) after I finish my writings on Christmas Day.
*
(Although this photo of me with my daughter in 1976 has already appeared in my memoir I love it so much I decided to include it in this post too).
*
When I eventually left the water (looking a bit like a prune because I’d been in there that long) I hobbled tentatively over the pebbles, found my towel and quickly got dried – I say ‘found’ my towel because it was some time afterwards before I found my glasses. Looking around ‘Base Camp’ everyone looked flat out, horizontal, mouths open catching flies and so I thought (YYEEESS!!!) I’d go up the steps between the houses to the top road and see if anyone was about for a natter but then just as I began sneaking off Carol said “If you’re going walkabout, check out the eateries and their menus and don’t be too long because we want to do lunch soon”.
(*Note to self: Must develop better sneaky tip-toe walks).
*