First stop was the booths and stands lining the huge Arc de Triomf monument at the top of the Ciutadella Park which contains the Catalan Parliament building. Because of the rain, the festivities started slowly and behind schedule, with the 1714 Catalan battalion reenactors not beginning until 10:30 or so. Their costumes looked quite authentic (at least to the uninitiated like me) down to the gourds they used for canteens. I slipped away as they shot off their very loud muskets, and came back for the band, complete with bagpipes (who knew?).
Meanwhile, I signed copies of the new Spanish-English bilingual edition of What's up with Catalonia? - ¿Qué le pasa a Cataluña? a book of essays that I translated and published so that non-Catalans, who might otherwise only know Gaudí and FC Barcelona, would have a better understanding of the amazing, peaceful and democratic process that Catalonia is going through in order to gain its independence.
The bilingual edition is being offered by ARA newspaper for 9.95€ until Sept 15th.
I then rushed back to the apartment, gathered up my family, went to pick up the rental car, and made our way to Tram 315, just south of Vilafranca del Penedès. The Catalan Way was divided into 500m segments (tram, in Catalan) so that each local chapter of the Catalan National Assembly could manage and organize the pieces more easily. Our segment was assigned to the town of Gavà which hired several buses to bring townspeople to this section of the Catalan Way, as well as giving information to those of who came in with our own transport.
I explain the organization because it was just phenomenal. After signing up online, we received multiple emails that explained just where we would be, what time we should be there, where we might get lunch once we arrived (which they also set up), and what to do next. We were cautioned to arrive early since the roads we had to use to get to our segment would be closed a few hours before the demonstration.
As we drove southward, about an hour, we saw and interchanged waves and honked at dozens of cars draped with Catalan independence flags. All I could think of was that a few hours later, the entire distance that we were driving in the car, along with many, many more miles to the north and south, would all be lined with people holding hands. My kids made fun of me because I said, "this is going to be big" but I know they'll tell their grandchildren about it just the same.
We arrived at the restaurant (Cal Padrí) at a little after 1pm. The organizers had set up a prix fix lunch (the main meal of the day in Catalonia) and it was delicious. The room held about 12 or 15 tables, and most of them were occupied by yellow t-shirt clad demonstrators of all ages.
I was not at all surprised that a great meal was an important part of the day. Catalans have more restaurants and bars than I forget how many countries in Europe. It's one of the things that I love about them that they put such importance on hanging out (ok, and eating good food) with family and friends.
About 4pm, we left the restaurant to find our spot in the Catalan Way. Luckily, my in-laws had already staked it out and knew how to get there. We worried a bit as we were arriving because there was a lot of traffic. I wondered if we'd have to walk a long way (with toddlers!) to our spots. But no, there was a parking lot conveniently plowed out of a local field (we were surrounded by vineyards) for all of the cars. Again, we were impressed by the abundance of organizers who indicated where to park and where the different segments were.
But mostly I was impressed by the numbers of people. There was going to be no trouble filling our segment, or any segment near by. Indeed, it was a bit hard to find room for everyone, and we wondered if we should create two lines side-by-side. In the end, we just squeezed together.
When it started getting closer to the magic time of 5:14 (which on a 24 hour clock is written as 17:14, and symbolizes the year that Catalonia lost its freedoms and institutions to the Spanish Crown in the War of Succession), the volunteers came back and encouraged us to get in line, and moved some of us up towards the next town (La Ràpita).
It was a bit like waiting for New Year's. I hadn't gotten telephone coverage for a while but luckily there were several radios and we could hear that what we were seeing in front of our eyes was being repeated across the other 700+ segments of the Catalan Way up and down the length of Catalonia. Airplanes and helicopters flew overhead in the now blue sky which vindicated Catalan TV weather claims and we waved ecstatically.
As we waited, some people drifted out of line to play cards or football, a group of castle-builders from Gavà built a tower, kids ran around, we all marveled at the incredible thing that we were a part of.
At a few minutes before 17:14, we joined hands, and listened to the countdown on the radio. At 17:14 on the dot, we joined hands and raised them up to the sky, listening to the church bells that were ringing all over Catalonia, and through our radio. Then we sang the Catalan National Anthem, and my kids made my fun of my singing, but I noticed they sang too just the same, and we all imagined our linked hands joining up hundreds of thousands of people, they're saying more than a million, from the Pyrenees mountain town of El Perthus, through 86 towns, including two paths through Barcelona, aroudn Gaudí's world famous Sagrada Família church and FC Barcelona's Camp Nou stadium, all the way down to Alcanar at the southern border, and even Vinarós, in Valencia, which many consider part of the Catalan nation.
(I don't have a picture of 17:14, because I was in the chain. This photo is from a few minutes after.)
Like many Catalans, I'm not a real flag waver. I love lots of places, and am wary of politicians using patriotism to sell their schemes. But the flags—and they were everywhere, and they were almost exclusively pro-independence flags with a white star on a blue triangle at one end of Catalonia's traditional four red stripes on yellow—didn't mean "my country is better", they just meant, "I want my country to exist, and to have the same rights as any other country".
As I have followed this process over the years, I have become more and more entwined with the people themselves, and I would never describe myself as impartial. Nevertheless, I can tell you that I am proud of this movement because of its peaceful, democratic, even joyous nature. There were no violent incidents today along the Catalan Way, no fighting, no pushing. Catalans would rather negotiate an exit than even demand one in a harsh voice. There were many who said that creating a huge human chain was just another stunt, and that what was required was much harsher rhetoric and direct action, but they are a minority.
And what I wonder is if the world can listen to a people that uses its words and doesn't fight or grab from others. We are very good at paying attention to violence, but can we listen to a peaceful people that calmly articulates exactly what they want and why they feel they deserve it? I hope so. Because these Catalans deserve to be listened to. All they want is to exercise their democratic right to vote for the future of their people. My country goes around saying they support democracy, I say let's prove it and support the Catalans right to vote for independence.
One last thought is that I think Catalans looked at this Catalan Way idea as a way to catch the world's attention, and it has surely done that. But I'm not sure they expected the powerful jolt that comes from holding the hands of a million other people. We were connected, and we felt strong. We will win, and now I think maybe we know it.
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I took a lot of pictures today. Mostly they are posted to my Flickr page. I'll try to label them better over the next few days. If you have any questions, please let me know. I'd love to hear if others' experiences in their own segments were similar to mine. I wonder what it was like being in Barcelona. Let me know!
