Spain, especially Catalunya, cares for every one of its nationals. They especially care for their disabled people. Every underground station has a lift.

Every “Servicios” toilet facility has at least one cubicle suitable for the disabled. And then there is always a baby change table. No matter what the condition of the conveniences are.

Beaches have special water friendly, floating wheel chairs and a board walk down to the water. Volunteers are on hand to help.

Wherever there are steps there is also a ramp. Every car park has well located reserved spaces for people with disabilities.

We frequently see young people with a group of disabled people, leading them out on an adventure.

I am overawed by the consideration given to all it’s people in a country that has struggled with civil unrest and is now struggling with an enormous debt.

In our last days in Barcelona Bruce & I have made a wish list of things to do and see.  Yesterday it was Bruce’s choice and we visited MNAC (National Museum of Catalonian Art) and saw some amazing 11^th and 12^th century frescoes taken from churches in the Pyranees area, as well as modern Catalonian art, specialising in the contemporaries of Picasso, Dali, Miro and Tàpies.

Today it was my choice.  Since we live on a commuter train line, I chose to go to Blanes (rhymes with Anis the drink), north of Barcelona and near the end of our line.

The one hour train journey was very pleasant.  The train line hugs the coast and the long sandy beaches Barcelona is famous for.  Just occasionally there is a rocky outcrop or a small group of houses, but the 60km track mostly runs close to the sea.

Blanes is a pleasant village with a lovely seaside promenade.  We found a nice restaurant and ate a delicous lunch, washed down with a glass of Verdejo.

On the way back I dragged out my knitting again and was happily growing the little scarf for a certain friend of mine, when a Asian couple got on the train and sat on the other side of the carriage.  After a few minutes the husband gave the wife an encouraging knod and she moved to sit opposite me and next to a Spanish lady.  She watched my knitting in awe.  The pattern is a drop stitch which creates a nice wavy effect.

She was so intent on my knitting that I leaned over as I was knitting the YO once, YO twice, YO three times, to show her.  She followed me carefully and as I counted in English “once”, “twice”, “three times” she followed in her own language.  After a couple of rows, she looked enthusiatically at me and I handed her my knitting, which she continued.

The Spanish lady next to her made a comment in English about how funny this was.  I asked her to ask the Asian lady where she came from.  To my amazement the Spanish lady struck up a conversation with the Asian lady in Chinese – she had lived there for four years and now imported Chinese goods.

By now various other travellers had joined in watching my new Chinese friend take over my knitting, while my new Spanish friend translate English to Chinese, so we all knew a little about each other.

It was a delightful experience, one of life’s memorable events.

My knitting friend on the train from Blanes