Rural tourism

The place is advertised online as a "rural tourism farmhouse," but the rural tourism aspect is everything and nothing. It used to be a pig farm, but a brick farm, it's not even covered in plaster. They've put in everything from sofas, bought on Wallapop, to four tables and a pool, the kind you buy prefabricated. It's rented out to groups, and a weekend getaway can cost you 30 euros per person.

Those who go there are mainly going to have a party. Play loud music, sing karaoke, get a little high, and eat. snacks. The villagers, on Friday, when they see them, they already smell it. "There will be a festival," says the old woman, who is holding the sick man. But it doesn't matter, because the young girl, a university student, also says it. And the book reader says the same.

They, the ones who rented the house, are not to blame, or not entirely. When the grandmother, a neighbor of the pigsty and the sofas, tells them to stop with the music, they laugh and exclaim: "Shut up, old woman!"At five in the morning, the wife of her sick husband calls the Mossos, again and again, until they come, and when they come, exhausted, she waits on the balcony of the farmhouse to see how they can silence them once and for all."Oh, how nice, the Mossos, they told us clearly, that it's normal for us to be outside...The woman would cry. She, like the student, like the neighbors next door, can't compare to these young men in swimsuits who laugh and do drugs so happily. They're the ones who won. Others will come with the same desire to throw trash and sing with the loudspeakers. In the summer we're all more sensitive because the windows are open, right? She smiles. It's her fault. Last week the owner said the sound detectors hadn't worked. On Friday, more will come.