Trafika Europe 6 - Arabesque

the foreign daughter

past the Episcopal Museum and then along Carrer de la Ramada to La Rambla, before heading up Carrer Morgades, first past the Post Office and local magistrates’ court, then the municipal market till I reached Jacint Verdaguer. But I decided I wanted to enjoy the narrow old streets in the old part of town and I wandered for a while smelling its antique odour that’s been mine for so many years. That’s precisely why I loathe that smell. I’ve made it mine, I’ve so assimilated it that it has become part of myself, but these are impassive streets altogether indifferent to my presence, to our presence that is so recent. For a moment I almost turned right towards Plaça Don Miquel de Clariana and took a look at the Bojons Palace which, till not very long ago, was home to the library

that was my haven for hours on end. However, I wasn’t thrilled by the idea of seeing its closed doors and headed to Corretgers. I stopped in front of the Convent of the Congregation of the Blessed Sacrament, the Sisters of Perpetual Adoration, who have always intrigued me and still seem an unknown quantity. Well, not really always, initially I had no idea what a convent or a nun was, let alone an enclosed nun. What could a frizzy-haired young girl from the dusty North African countryside know about such an exotic reality? For years the building meant nothing to me, was just another of the city’s old buildings, stone upon stone that resisted the passing years. All I knew about inside was the angel bread a mysterious hand gave you from behind

131