Here, in almost deserted galleries, I reckon I find the origins of the Catalan fantasy style, the essential chemical in the water. Elementary, my dear Watson.These early anonymous painters love to ram bright colours next to one another. They portray saints and virgins whose distorted faces aren’t always due to the fact that the martyr in question is being hammered with nails or sawn in two. I remember with fondness a cross-eyed Joseph and a sceptical ass, bemused by the yowling baby in Mary’s crib. Dal?Gaud?Mir?d Picasso all drank at this artistic fountainhead.Barcelona and its maritime and landlocked hinterlands are closely linked, and not only through art. Many Barcelonans own weekend homes in the prettier coastal villages.

Or in little medieval inland towns like Pals, almost destroyed in the civil war and scrupulously rebuilt. From the old walls you look out seawards over former marshland (“Pals” comes from the Latin palus, meaning swamp) where, almost unbelievably, rice from the Far East first began to be grown in the 15th century.The destruction wrought at Pals, with neighbour against neighbour, is one of the recurrent reminders of the traumas that still underlie Spanish society. Dal?nded up on the opposite side of the war from Picasso and Mir?n the art, there’s almost always a sharp edge to the fantasies. The beautiful Catalan landscape – calm farms on the plateaux, rocky sea-edge promontories, the hills you glimpsed beyond so many Barcelona streets – hides harsher secrets.The day I go to Pals turns out to be the anniversary of Franco’s death. The local paper runs a large obituary advertisement from a Gerona “cultural association”, paying tribute. Alongside it, thanks to some advertising man’s even-handedness, is printed a rival obituary, precisely the same size, in memory of “the victims of fascism”.

At Gerona’s castle-like cathedral, the only statues on the baroque fa?e that survived civil-war iconoclasm are those that represent Faith, Hope and Charity.The Catalan language, long suppressed under Franco’s dictatorship, has re-emerged. The Pals town hall, like many others, flies a Catalan flag and an EU flag, but no Spanish version. The language is dauntingly full of the letter “x”, but you only need remember to pronounce them as “sh”. Thus, I notice that the composer of the opera The Queen of Spades, opening soon at Barcelona’s grandiose Lyceum theatre, is “Txaikovski”. And the dark little fish I see swimming in the sea at Cadaqu? and then munch in a lunchtime sandwich, are “anxoveses” Anchovies.

EHow to get therePaul Barker’s tour of the Costa Brava was organised by the Spanish Tourist Board. For further details call 020-7486 8077 or visit or You can also call the 24-hour brochure line on 09063 640630 (calls cost 60p per minute at all times).Paul Barker flew from London Heathrow to Barcelona with British Airways, who are now offering return fares from £99. For further details and to purchase tickets, call 0845 7733377 or visit In Barcelona, Paul stayed at the Hotel Arts, where one night’s accommodation starts from £128 per person on a bed-and-breakfast basis. Reservations can be made through Abercrombie & Kent on 0845 0700612 or visit informationTo visit the Dal?ouse at Port Lligat at any time, and the Gala castle at P? outside the Easter-October season, you must telephone well in advance Port Lligat, 00 34 972 251015; P?, 00 34 972 488655.