Final Ketchup

Oops, I meant “catch-up.” I’m going to pound my way through Barcelona without giving it the respect it deserves, because I want to get you to Florence, La Bella Firenze, sometime before I’m back in Chico…

First, I’ll say this about Barcelona: It’s a beautiful city, filled with things to  do, places to go, people to see… I’m glad I had this opportunity to replace previous experiences of the city with newer, more positive impressions. In that I succeeded.

Ok, on with the show.

Richard, April and I flew from Jerez de la Frontera to Barcelona on Vueling Air, which must be a partner with Iberia. The plane actually had enough room for my knees to fit without having to sit with my legs apart for the entire flight. It was an uneventful flight, which is always the best kind. We landed, picked up our bags, found a taxi and went to the apartment we had rented through VRBO (thank you, Warren Merritt) where Don and Myra were already settled in.

The apartment was very nice and very well-located for pretty much anything we wanted to do. It was about three blocks from the Sagrada Familia, the cathedral designed and begun by Antoni Gaudi in 1882 and yet unfinished. It’s like nothing else in the world, only remotely comparable even to his own architectural works elsewhere in Barcelona. He died without seeing its completion, confident that it would be done without him. He’s variously described as a loner, a mystic, a genius, a lunatic, but whatever appellation you try to hang on him, you have to admit that he was unique. No one before or since has attempted to replicate his style, which is instantly recognizable for its fanciful lines and whimsical attitudes, as well as its complete artistic integrity– he never compromised his visions. I’m going to include more pictures of the church than would be ordinarily appropriate, but I don’t know how else to introduce his impact by simply telling without showing. Here, then, are some shots of the cathedral, some showing the inevitable cranes still being used to complete his vision.

Gaudi was born on June 25, (my birthday!) in 1852 (slightly before my birthday) in Barcelona, and died on June 10, 1926, only days before his 74th birthday when he was hit by a trolley car in Barcelona. He was, as usual, dressed in workman’s clothes and at first it was assumed that this man who had been injured was a beggar or a poor pensioner, but when it was learned that it was Gaudi, the city went into a state of official mourning for his passing.

(By the way, the word “gaudy” has no etymological relationship with Gaudi. The word far precedes Gaudi’s birth. It’s origin is uncertain. Wiktionary notes that it might be related to the word “gaud,” meaning ornament, or trinket.)

 

Richard, April and I set out on what turned out to be a long walk through the streets of Barcelona, headed for La Rambla, the long avenue that runs from the Placa Catalunya to the statue of Columbus at the end of the street where it meets the port. This picture is of one of many pedestrian, tree-lined lanes.

 

One of Barcelona’s finest.

 

One of Gaudi’s buildings, the Casa Mila’.  Apartments upstairs and businesses on the ground floor.

Another famous Gaudi structure, the Casa Batllo. (Again, my apologies for not knowing how to place the various pronunciation marks on the appropriate letters in Spanish and Catalan.)

 

I don’t know that this is or who designed it, but it reminds me of a Russian egg.

 

This is a building on the Placa Catalunya. I again confess my ignorance.

 

For anyone seeking a new career path, may I suggest selling “selfie sticks” to tourists, a booming business if we are to judge by the number of entrepreneurs engaged in said endeavor… And when the weather is inclement, they simply switch to selling folding umbrellas.

 

Nekkid-lady statues in the Placa Catalunya.

 

I’m not entirely clear on how this works, but I saw them in Madrid and in London as well. You pay at a kiosk at the end of the line of bikes and that allows you to ride them anywhere and then park them at any number of other sites.

 

La Rambla, unusually “uncrowded” for the time of day.

 

The Barcelona Opera, where they’re performing an operatic version of Shakespeare’s “Macbeth.” I won’t tell anyone how it turns out… “It will have blood, they say. Blood will have blood…”

 

And here’s Columbus at the foot of La Rambla.

A closer detail of Columbus atop his pedestal, pointing in entirely the wrong direction…

 

A governmental office with the Spanish flag flying above it, a sight that is fairly unusual in Barcelona, as much of the population identifies more as Catalunyan, with their own language and culture, than with Spain. In a recent non-binding referendum, nearly half the people voted to secede from Spain. The desire for the split is not merely ethnic, but also economic, as Barcelona– as the principal city of Catalunya– is very prosperous, while much of Spain is still reeling from the effects of the economic downturn of 2008. Other countries such as Portugal, Italy and, or course, Greece, were hurt much more than was this region in northeast Spain, and Catalunyans would like to keep their wealth to themselves rather than having what they feel is an unresponsive Spanish government in Madrid making economic decisions for them.

 

At the top is another double-decker bus we took around the city. The tour of Madrid on such a bus was interesting and so we were encouraged to try again. Below the bus photo is one of many different Catalan flags representing the fractured nature of their allegiance to Spain. To the right of the flag is yet another example of my ignorance. Below that on the left is what might be referred to as “public art.” It’s the top of a bus stop covered with ear-buds from bus tours!  To its right, top, is the Barcelona bus terminal, and below it is the entry into the Olympic track from the ’92 Olympics. Below that to the left is a shot of the trams that you can take from near the Columbus statue to the top of Montjuic (Jewish Mountain), where the Olympic facilities are located.

And finally, a human-interest shot of one of the many young women who stand outside restaurants in Barcelona with menus, trying to entice customers inside. It didn’t work on us, but we appreciated the effort.

And so we left Barcelona and flew to Florence, and with this post I have brought us up to the current city, if not quit the current day.

Now I have to post this and go meet Bob Kohen, a friend from Chico, to give him the nickel tour of Florence (which is about what it’s worth).

Ciao for now…