The reporter, whose memory is failing and has not yet suffered a recent diagnosis of ADD/H (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder), needed both hands yesterday to write down in her notebook the sequences that caught her attention the most of the day What a bad decision! I can't think of anything worse than walking on Sant Jordi in the crowd without a rose. The book can be kept in the handbag. But if you walk without proudly displaying the rose, it means that you have not done something right in this life. It's not cool to pass yourself off as a foreigner. From an hour away you can tell that you were born and grew up on the other side of Besòs, where they also celebrate Sant Jordi and exchange books and roses.
There is no day more beautiful than Sant Jordi. So much so that he wakes up cold and lazy after the blessed downpour of the previous night that washed the streets, which were filled with books and roses exchanged with a multitude of kisses and hugs.
Once again, Barcelona celebrated one of the best days, filling the literary supervilla of the Eixample and the Rambla with happy pedestrians, little by little recovered for the occasion.
And if they weren't happy, for a while they pretended they were. Not even if it was to take photographs and self-portraits, which were shot in all corners of the city doing authentic juggling with their hands, holding roses, books and the phone, which immortalized an exchange sealed with a long kiss.
The world of roses evolves. Who would have said it. Either that or it's not easy to keep up with trends in floral art. One of the stalls with more curious people crowded in front of the counter announced that it had the secret of the eternal flower. "For life", said the poster, which for prudence spared adding "like love". The two women tending the stall excitedly explained that their roses had been treated to being dissected. Like someone embalming a dead person, but in bloom. "Preserved rose", was the technical term. The invention makes the fact. The flower seemed alive and they had wrapped it in a paper, also dissected, with the pictures of the bread bags from our parents' houses. The floral eternity cost 35 euros. Pretty good considering the possibility of giving it away in a few years.
The day dawned cold, unfortunately cold and with temperatures more autumn than spring. Early on, meteorologist Mònica Usart recommended to RAC1 to leave the house warm and with an umbrella, "just in case". As things stand, and the swamps, we can't complain about the rain. Not even out of solidarity with the booksellers and florists who centralize much of the prayers for a day that traditionally cushions the bitterness of everyday life.
In the end, at least in the city of Barcelona, the day lasted without rain. Around four o'clock in the afternoon, a black cloud hovered over the Rambla and, after four badly dropped and counted drops, it stopped. Since the pandemic, the central promenade of Ciutat Vella has ceased to be the heart of Sant Jordi, although this year almost a hundred stalls of flowers and books made it possible to recover at some points in the afternoon the splendor of other years .
At noon it was difficult to find a table in any restaurant around Passeig de Gràcia, while at the bars of the Boqueria market there was room without waiting for a couple of oysters and the portion of fried eggs with potatoes, prawns and a little grated truffle for the big holidays.
For Sant Jordi, whoever doesn't sell roses is because he doesn't want to. This is exactly what the florists' guild of Catalonia complained about one year more bitterly. They had not yet closed the day and already calculated the losses suffered due to intrusion during this special day at ten million euros.
In Barcelona alone, the City Council signed 1,700 authorizations to entities, associations and even individuals to set up a stand and sell roses. To which it was necessary to add 2,000 more stops that came anyway, but without any kind of permit. Stalls run in a very high percentage by gypsy families who take advantage of any corner to set up the stall, like those who go to the beach on a Sunday. A folding table, a couple of chairs and another couple of buckets with water and roses that in the early hours sold for five euros and at seven in the afternoon they offered for two and one euro if you bought more than three.
Throughout the afternoon, a couple from the Zona Franca set up and took down the snack bar on Passeig de Gràcia in no time. At five o'clock in the afternoon, the camping table and the two buckets were practically deployed at the doors of Massimo Dutti. One with the red rose and spike wrapped in transparent cellophane, a pragmatic and sufficient packaging for the three euros the flower cost. And another more risky one in which the rose literally crossed a teddy bear, blue or pink, to choose from, with a disturbing appearance.
Another trend to keep in mind. In one of the stalls on the Passeig de Gràcia of some of the most exclusive florists in the city, the rose gave way to some half-metre plush dolls. For 38 euros you could choose between a dragon, green or purple, or a Saint George with a smiling warrior's cuirass.
There was so much excitement for Sant Jordi in the city that at eight in the evening, the scheduled time to start collecting, those at the rose and book stalls chose to wait a little longer. The streets of the center, despite the cold and no rain, were still full at that time. With the races of the last-minute rushers and those who couldn't find the book they were looking for because they left everything for the last moment.
It's one thing to dare to walk without a rose, and another to close a chronicle without checking security. In the crowd, this veteran reporter of the bad life discovered the cops and plainclothes urban guards capable of spotting pickpockets from meters away. Mysteriously, and it's no legend or metaphor, they disappeared yesterday. Really. Perhaps it was something of the spirit of Saint George and the dragon, but no trace of the bad guys.
