A Walk through Vilanova i la Geltrú

The main mode of transportation here is walking on one's own two feet. Vilanova i la Geltrú is a small provincial city crisscrossed by pedestrian walkways called ramblas, many of which were originally stream beds. Following their paths one may still feel the sense of going on a creek walk.





Only the modern ramblas follow strait lines. These occupy the part of the town built in the 18th and 19th centuries with wealth generated by trade (mostly wine but also slave traffic) and colonial adventures in the Americas, particularly Cuba. The ramblas connect various plaças, nodes of open space where one might slow down, greet friends, play games, or take part in frequent community events. Right now these paths of pedestrian circulation are adorned with holiday lights installed by the city. Very few private homes display holiday lights. It's a civic practice.




Ramblas and plaças aren't always the most direct route to get where one is going but people here show a strong preference for using them. Vilanovans also "go for walks" on these ramblas with no other purpose but to experience the pleasure of being in company with others in these public spaces. My barber told me he was born here and has traveled the world but hasn't found a better place to live. He cited the ramblas first in his list of urban amenities. There is a lot of verbal interchange in the ramblas and being a stranger is no barrier. Even when I am not with my small daughter who attracts social interaction with seemingly supernatural force, I find myself addressed by Vilanovans habitually. Unlike the urban spaces in the US that I know best, people here do not keep to themselves.




Many people walk their dogs, usually conscientiously picking up after them in keeping with carefully cultivated values of civisme, but not everyone views dogs as benign. Recently I saw a Muslim woman pull her children away from a dog no where near them that appeared quite harmless. For both scriptural and customary reasons, many Muslims regard both dogs and pigs as impure animals. Throughout Spain, bars, shops, and restaurants commonly hang phalanxes of whole preserved hams (Catalan pernil, Spanish jamón) with shiny black hooves from their ceilings. It is a favorite food for many but this may not be a welcoming sight to everyone who lives here. The term "jamón diplomacy" was recently used by a Barcelona newspaper to ridicule a conservative politician's proposal to make gifts of jamones to Muslim political leaders to encourage intercultural exchange. In any case, the presence of the bodies of both dogs and pigs in public space may provoke divergent visceral reactions from mild satisfaction to alienating discomfort.




Walking, and walking in this particular social and built environment produces a distinct embodied experience. The ground is made of many surfaces--stone, marble, tile, brick, concrete--pierced by iron utility covers, drains and grates, and few surfaces are completely flat. Taking small steps up and down as surfaces subtly change, one navigates built and human obstacles, and encounters friends, strangers, baby strollers, sidewalk vendors, children, dogs, recycling bins, graffiti, vehicle barriers, and perhaps a puddle. At first, I perceived the ramblas as sometimes crowded and hard to pass through but then began to learn to walk in their uneven rhythms. Vilanova i la Geltrú is not adapted to the walking practices of a Bay Area commuter. I have had to adapt.




There is a distinct pacing to the walking day. The ramblas are pulsing capillaries of the town's circulatory system during the morning while Vilanovans commute to work or school, take young children to daycare, or run errands in the pre-siesta business hours.




In the early afternoon the shops and most businesses close and the ramblas become still. One sees only a few individuals, perhaps running late to the midday meal. Except for young children, the siesta isn't a nap. It's a work stoppage and a time to eat the main meal of the day and socialize. Between 4:00 and 5:00 the streets reanimate, the sound of iron gates clattering open means the shops are open again. Children take their time coming back from school and might use a plaça as a playground. Adults gather in bars/cafes (the distinction is nominal) to meet their friends and rub elbows with their neighbors.





People work until around 8:00 o’clock, which is why Spaniards eat dinner later than many people. Many restaurants don't open their doors until nine and don't start to fill up until ten. The streets are busy all evening.



These photos are an inadequate representation of even the visual dimension of Vilanova i la Geltrú and cannot communicate the sounds of footsteps, greetings and leave takings and kisses on cheeks; the smells of tobacco smoke and fresh bread; and most of all the amiable/physical sense of proximity to others.





Please do not distribute, quote or cite. This is an informal communication to my friends about the experience of my field research in progress. In the future I may publish related material but the foregoing text and translations are at best provisional and not intended for publication.