The next morning, although sunny and bright, a cool breeze
was blowing from the Mediterranean towards the western mountains surrounding
the city, bringing with it thin high clouds and the faintest presence of a
haze. Having grown up on a peninsula this kind of weather in the morning is not
unusual for a city near the sea. It would burn off quickly and another
beautiful sunny day was ahead of us. It would turn out to be our hottest day in
Spain.
Casa Amattler (left) and Casa Batlló (right)
If you search the Internet for Barcelona’s top attractions
you will find several of them relates to the buildings of Antoni Gaudi, and
other Catalan architects famous for their Modernism era (roughly from 1880 to
1911) designs. On our first day we visited the Passeig de Gràcia, one of the
city’s major avenues and gaped at the multitude of Modernism buildings that
line the avenue: Casa Amattler (designed by Josep Puig i Cadafalch) next to
Casa Batlló (by Gaudi). Further down are another Gaudi, Casa Mila, and Casa
Lleó Morera by Lluís Domènech i Montaner, and standing on the Plaça de
Catalunya one can hardly miss the rooftop of the Casa Rocamora with its
distinct orange ceramic roof tiles designed by the brothers Basegoda. The
Passeig de Gràcia is certainly a most unique street. No wonder Barcelona brags
so much about it and its beautiful buildings.
Casa Mila by Gaudi
But there is one building that trumps them all. No matter
which Barcelonan high ground or rooftop you are on its incomplete towers and
ever present construction cranes are visible from anywhere in the
city. Begun in 1886, and projected to be
completed only by 2026, 140 years are actually a short time compared to how
long it took to build many other buildings of this kind, this Modernism
masterpiece by Antoni Gaudi has become the symbol of Barcelona, not to mention
a major source of tourists Euros.
Call it whimsical, wacky, wonderful, weird, and wayward or
whatever w-word you want to employ to describe it, the Basilica of the Sacred Family or simply the Sagrada Familia is something rather exceptional and singular. I am
not saying it is the best church I’ve seen, that will come later in the week,
but it is different and architecturally the church is a tour de force of
ingenuity and light as oppose to the usual darker Gothic churches. Inside and
outside it is the amalgamation of the spiritual and the natural according to
Gaudi’s vision of the human’s existence in relation to God.
His ability to envisage something of this magnitude, then made
detailed drawings of nearly every square feet of the church’s surface, inside
and out, a really extraordinary detailed thinker, and then to build one of the
highest naves without the customary flying buttresses and allowed for a
kaleidoscope of color from the stained glass windows to provide the décor to
compensate for the near absence of the expected ornate chapels, made him a
standout among his already phenomenal peers of the Modernism movement of
Barcelona.
Upon leaving the basilica we enjoyed a moment’s
contemplation in the park across from the church, taking in the big picture, as
if that’s possible, on a bench in the shade of one of the many trees with the
reflection of the Nativity Façade crystalized in a shallow pool.
The suspended altar in the Basilica de Sagrada Familia
Afterwards we found a sunny sidewalk table at Farggi, a coffee shop on the quiet side
of the church, but still in full view of the basilica, for café con leche and a light, late morning pastry. It wasn’t quite
lunchtime yet. Snack time was short-lived
however, time was running out and this was our last day in Barcelona, so we
pushed ourselves to move on, out of the massive “shadow” of the Sagrada Familia
and headed to the opposite side of the city, to Montjuic, the Jewish
Mount.
We rode the metro to Plaça d’Espanya, a major circular
square on the southeastern side of the city, with massive, but beautiful
proportioned statues and fountains, walked pass the tall Venetian Towers and
slowly made our way up de la Reina Maria
Cristina Avenue that leads to the National Art Museum of Catalonia. Along
the way I marveled at the treasure-trove of different architectural styles, the
buildings and much of the area erected specifically for the 1929 International
Exhibition.
We climbed some of the stairs up the hill and for the rest
use an escalator to the museum level. We never actually went inside the museum.
We were not in the mood for artwork. On the horizon the Temple Expiatori del Sagrat Cor,
the Church of the Sacred Heart, dominated the Tibidabo Mount on the edge of the
Barcelonan bowl. Towards the west, where we just came from, the Sagrada Familia
stood high above the surrounding neighborhoods, and immediately below us the
varied architectures of the exhibition area and the plaza provided enough
panoramic stimulation. Instead of art we were contented with the views from up
there, eating a ridiculously overpriced ice cream at the café on the terrace in
front of the museum while being serenaded by a Spanish troubadour on a guitar
in the hot sun. Unfortunately the huge and famous cascading fountain in front
of the museum was not running at that moment.
One of the surprises we found on Montjuic was the Jardi Historica de Barcelona,
Barcelona’s Historic Botanical Gardens, just behind the Catalonian Art Museum.
We saw the direction board towards the garden, went in search of it,
incorrectly took an escalator to a higher level of the mount, realized we must
have passed the garden somehow, took another escalator back down and then found
the garden’s entrance hidden behind a non-descripted bear-brown wooden gate. It
was not a very big garden, really nothing more than two large hollows into the
hill’s side filled with local and foreign species of flora. The tallest and
oldest trees in Barcelona is said to be located in the garden. Wandering
through the sunny side of the garden some cycads brought back memories from
Kirstenbosch in Cape Town for M, while a massive Agave plant reminded me of one
that stood in front of my childhood home in the same city. We cross to an area
with tall trees and found a pleasant vista. In the garden’s second hollow, a
series of rough terraces and stone steps were created, planted with varied thin-stemmed
hardy shrubs mixed with ivy ground covers, a large wisteria, its support of
small trees groaning under its weight, and many trees, all covered in cool
shade, and in the bottom of the bowl what looked like a lovely Tuscan villa,
gloriously baking in the bright and hot afternoon sun. It is actual not Tuscan,
but a reproduction of a Catalonian farmhouse. I would vouch the house of a very
wealthy farmer since I cannot imagine it being a house of a typical Catalonian
farmer. The average Spanish farmer has never been that well-off to build such a
large house. We took the weight of our feet on the stone steps for a good 20
minutes or so, we sat there chatting, absorbing the greenery, the view, the
occasional twittering of birds, the soft whisper of a nearby fountain and the
overall tranquility of the unexpected location, and enjoyed the absence of
crowds.
Upon leaving the garden I spotted more Catalonian buildings
in another garden further up the hill and tried to entice M to climb the 50-odd
steps with me but she was more than happy to wait for me at the bottom of the
stairs on a bench in the sun on the gravel walkway, Passeig de Jean Forestier, that runs along the front of the museum
area.
By now it was already past three in the afternoon and I
suggested we slowly descend Montjuic in the general direction of our apartment,
which was somewhere out there below the mount, but not too far away. A good
rest, a cold beer or two, an early dinner and early night were ahead for the
rest of the day seeing that we had to catch the early morning high speed train
to Madrid the next day. Just as we started to walk away from the area, the
monstrous fountain in front of the museum started to flow and a river of water
cascaded over its precipice. What a sight! Good photo opportunity too.
So, on a zigzag course down narrow backstreets, not quite
sure the exact location of our apartment, I led us down the mount, keeping
Avenue Parallel, a major road that I could see as we descended, always in my
eye. We reach said avenue one block from our apartment and came across Restaurante Manolo, which advertised
chocolate and churros on their menu and spontaneously decided to tick off
another item from our bucket list. When we gave our order the waitress was
rather surprised, probably realized we are Americanos
and not aware of the Spanish culinary protocol to eat churros late at night,
but 10 minutes later we received freshly fried churros and a cup of thick sweet
chocolate. The snack and drink were absolutely delicious, and the service so
prompt and friendly that we decided to return to the restaurant for dinner too.
Ticks of the bucket list: Churros and chocolate, authentic seafood paella, and a whole plate of the most delicious acorn fed jamón (Spanish ham).
Early evening, the sun was already behind the Serra de Collserola, the mountain range
that surrounds Barcelona in the southwest, and dusk was slowly descending, I
stood on our apartment’s tiny balcony, sipping a pre-dinner glass of Rioja red
wine and looked down on the fresh produce shop and the activities on Carrer de Vallhonrat.
A couple walked their dogs, a man popped into the shop and
emerged with a baguette, the butcher on the corner rolled down security rails,
closing shop for the night, two gentlemen of advanced age were in deep
discussion on a corner leading to a narrow alley, across the street two kids
took trash out to large bins near the small square at the end of the street,
and a steady stream of pedestrians continued to hurry home from work.
Further down the street two kids was noisily hollering to
each other while kicking a soccer ball, and next door a television broadcasted
highlights of the past weekend’s football. Meanwhile, the number of customers
to the produce shop steadily increased, the smell of food being prepared hung
in the air like fog in a valley, and the aroma entered my nostrils and made my
stomach rumbled. The neighborhood of El Poble-Sec was doing what it has been
doing for the past century. Live and let live. Not much has changed.
For a too short period of time M and I were fortunate to be part of this exquisite city. Observers, participants, temporary Barcelonans!
More Sagrada Familia
Around the Plaça d’Espanya area
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