The door that tells our story
Hello friends
Today I bring you this door.
Located in the port of San Sebastián, Basque country Spain.
A simple mahogany door.
Lone bright red.
All carved by craftsmen of the wood, where they relate without a word what was for the Basque whalers their life.
A hard life full of dangers not only because of whale hunting.
But for the bravery of the sea and the cold of the north.
Almost without outerwear.
Without modern instruments.
Only one sailing ship.
Hard people and hungry for adventure.
***
La puerta que cuenta nuestra historia
Hola amigos
Hoy os traigo esta puerta.
Situada en pleno puerto de san Sebastián, país vasco España.
Una sencilla puerta de Caoba.
Roja brillante solitaria.
Toda tallada por artesanos de la madera, donde relatan sin una palabra lo que fue para los balleneros vascos su vida.
Una vida dura llena de peligros no solamente por la caza de la ballena.
Sino por la bravura del mar y el frío del norte.
Casi sin prendas de abrigo.
Sin instrumental moderno.
Solo un barco de vela.
Personas duras y con hambre de aventuras.
The wooden ship with its sails fluttering in the wind.
Chasing the most desired cetacean of those times.
From it meat was extracted, fat that became candle, oils and even soaps.
His bones were also appreciated, carved and to make instruments of all kinds.
The corsets of the ladies wore their beards and from their bile they brought out medicines and perfumes.
Everything about her was taken advantage of, everything was a treasure.
***
El barco de madera con sus velas ondeando al viento.
Persiguiendo al cetáceo más deseado de aquellos tiempos.
De él se sacaba carne, grasa que se convertía en vela, aceites y hasta jabones.
Sus huesos también eran apreciados, tallados y para hacer instrumentos de toda clase.
Los corsés de las damas llevaban sus barbas y de su bilis sacaban medicinas y perfumes.
Todo de ella era aprovechado, todo era un tesoro.
It was not an easy animal to hunt.
Larger on some occasions than the ship.
A soul that lived without predators.
Only man could count on his skill and strength to hunt her down.
She was running away and expelling water on her back.
The birds took advantage of the struggle of the man with the cetacean to plunder something to take to the stomach.
An easy meal.
***
No era un animal fácil de cazar.
Más grande en algunas ocasiones que el barco.
Un alma que vivía sin depredadores.
Solo el hombre podía contar con su pericia y fuerza para cazarla.
Ella huía y expulsaba agua por su lomo.
Las aves aprovechaban la lucha del hombre con el cetáceo para rapiñar algo que llevarse al estómago.
Una comida fácil.
The arrantzales (Basque sailors)
They launched the harpoon from the sailboat.
Then the boats went to sea chasing the harpooned whale.
She suffered, submerged and rose above the sea,
Twisting in pain and fear
Leaving the blood that the wound of the harpoon caused him to spurt on his back.
The arrantzales clung to her they could not stop her from catching, it was her livelihood.
***
Los arrantzales( marineros vascos)
Lanzaban el arpón desde el velero.
Luego los botes se hacían a la mar persiguiendo a la arponeada ballena.
Ella sufría, se sumergía y alzaba por encima del mar,
Retorciéndose de dolor y miedo
Dejando escapar a borbotones por su lomo la sangre que la herida del arpón le causo.
Los arrantzales se aferraban a ella no la podían dejar de atrapar, era su sustento.
Many lost their lives in this hunt.
Many would never reach a good port.
Many would be mutilated or worse, suffering an agonizing and painful death.
Many months at sea.
Much suffering for the hardships of that time.
Lost times in history.
***
Muchos perdían la vida en esta cacería.
Muchos jamás llegarían a buen puerto.
Muchos quedarían mutilados o peor aún, sufriendo una muerte agónica y dolorosa.
Muchos meses en la mar.
Mucho sufrimiento por las penurias de aquel tiempo.
Tiempos perdidos en la historia.
Lost times in history.
Times that reminds us of this door.
Times that we should not forget.
Times of our great great grandparents.
They gave their lives for us.
***
Tiempos perdidos en la historia.
Tiempos que nos recuerda esta puerta.
Tiempos que no tendríamos que olvidar.
Tiempos de nuestros tatarabuelos.
Ellos daban la vida por nosotros.
Canon PowerShot SX730 HS
Original content by Original content by @txatxy***
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