June 6, 2015 - The never-ending quest for iced tea, and other stuff

I definitely meant to send a shout-out to our waiter from yesterday in Besalu. He tackled the issue of iced tea with complete confidence - not bad for a guy who was completely mystified by our request.

Mike loves iced tea - tries to limit his consumption, but really, it had been days since we left Atlanta. So we decided to try to explain the concept to our very kind waiter, who, of course, spoke no English. And needless to say, we do not speak Spanish, much less Catalan.

So we said black tea. Since it was approximately 95 degrees in the shade in Besalu, he was puzzled, but willing. I then said, two glasses with ice. Extra charge, he said. Okay, I said.

In a few moments we were served two cups of boiling water (with a saucer that functioned as a lid, both for splashing prevention and also heat retention), two teabags of indeterminate origin, two small water goblets, each with exactly two small pieces of ice. Ice, it seems, is a rare commodity and not to be just slung around willy-nilly.

SO - we steeped our teabags until the water was a pale shade of tan, I dumped my two pieces of ice into Mike's glass (so now he had four, rapidly melting), and he poured his very hot tea into the glass. After about a minute, he sipped. "How is it?" I asked. He nodded.

He took another swig, then I poured most of my cup of very weak brewed very hot tea into the glass. Voila - disappearing ice. "How is it?" I asked. He nodded again.

An iced tea drinker from the American southern states just isn't that hard to please.

*

This morning (Saturday) we assembled in the lobby promptly at  9:00 a.m. and set off to study the cathedral.

The Barcelona cathedral is a marvel of Gothic architecture, both inside and out. Our instructor knows it so well and we are so lucky to have her traveling with us. One problem: outside instructors aren't allowed into the cathedral with groups - and our headphones were a dead giveaway. So we followed Arleen from the entrance up to the apse, and she nodded meaningfully at features that she wished to expound on once we were gathered again outside on the plaza. 

What a wonderful building! The miracle of medieval construction continues to amaze. The soaring vaulted ceiling, the beautifully painted keystones, the intricately carved altar pieces - all are a feast for the eyes.

Outside again, we, as good OLLIs, peppered Arleen with questions. She's so great - she's so patient - we're so curious! As we travel around the neighborhoods and learn about medieval building systems, we are so lucky to have such a knowledgeable architect and gifted teacher as our guide.

The afternoon was our first time on our own since we arrived four days ago. A small group of us hit our favorite tapas bar for a quick lunch (and once again, it didn't disappoint), then struck out on a Rick Steves walk through El Born.

The funky Bohemian neighborhood of El Born is home to many ethnic citizens, many wonderful shops and restaurants, and the Picasso Museum. Picasso, who was born and lived in Barcelona until his 20s, held the city in high esteem until his death. Luckily for the world, Picasso's father saved pretty much everything he ever created from his early teens forward (think about those drawings you have on your fridge from the grandchildren), and this museum is a lovely little gem containing much of his early work, even a few pieces from the Blue and Rose Periods. It is absolutely astounding to see what Picasso did at the ages of 15, 16, 19, 20. The expansion of his genius and growth of his artistic abilities is perfectly captured here. What a transcendent experience!

(Above - El Born Cultural Center, where we could have spent an entire day.)

Along the walk through El Born, we window-shopped, took in the atmosphere, people-watched, and pretty much wore ourselves out. We also noticed that the vast majority of folks surrounding us were under the age of 35 - this is truly a city that skews very young. It makes for a wonderful, energetic vibe, true enough; but these old feet are tired now.

We are headed to the Cathedral Plaza to watch whatever might transpire there this evening; we have heard that Saturday night on the plaza can be quite entertaining. And I suspect we'll hit that tapas bar again before returning. Tomorrow, we get a tiny bit of a sleep-in, then off to the church of Santa Maria del Mar. And maybe another Rick Steves walk tomorrow afternoon. Las Ramblas, here we come.

June 5, 2015 - A trip to Besalu

Today we boarded a bus at 9:30 a.m. to travel to Besalu, northwest of Barcelona. Established in the 11th century, Besalu is an almost perfect example of a medieval town. With 2300 residents (as of the last census), it's just a village, but it's a living town, not just a tourist attraction.



As we crossed the beautiful Romanesque bridge, complete with tower and portcullis, we marveled at its solid construction and obvious wonderful design. Spanning the Fluvia River, the bridge is built with angles and breakwaters, the angles to strengthen the bridge and the breakwaters to weaken the river. Since the use of concrete had been forgotten about at this time (I know, hard to believe), the stones were placed in a way that has lasted over a thousand years without mortar. Although it's now closed to motor traffic, the bridge is wide enough to accommodate a modern automobile, and certainly strong enough.

The town boasted a prominent Jewish population of bankers and merchants, and archaeologists have discovered the remains of a synagogue and a mikvah, utilizing the water from the river for the ritual bath which is such an important part of Jewish religious and cultural tradition. Steps lead down the hill from the town to the river, where fishing is permitted - and one of our group even spotted a little river snake.

This small village is home to not one, but two, medieval churches, and also a monastery and a medieval hospital. The town is protected from the rear by the foothills of the Pyrenees, and from the front by the river. The bridge itself has the tower fortification and two very solid wooden doors that could have been closed against any enemies. And as a last resort, one of the churches has enormous doors that could have been closed and locked, sheltering the villagers inside against the armies of rival noblemen or even invaders from France or northern Africa.

All of us could immediately see similarities between this tiny town and some of the towns we visited last summer in Tuscany. It's fascinating to know that principles of construction and defense were so widespread - once again, those wily Romans wielding their influence far after the fall of empire.

As I write this, we sit in our hotel room in Barcelona with our balcony windows open, enjoying the slight breeze and the sounds of the street. The temperature is 79 degrees, with low humidity. We have yet to see a cloud - crossing fingers that that continues. We are considering a little drink in a shady terrace bar, then a stroll through the early evening from plaza to plaza, and maybe an early bedtime.  We begin again in Barcelona tomorrow, continuing our travels through history with more examples of medieval architecture and design systems. Tomorrow afternoon, free exploration time. I believe we might take the walk down Las Ramblas from the Placa Catalunya to the sea. Or maybe visit the Picasso Museum. Or maybe explore the fabulous department store, El Corte Ingles. Or .....

June 4, 2015 - We begin our Barcelona learning in earnest

We've decided that we really like our hotel. The Hotel Regencia Colon, just a block from the Placa Nova, has a lovely breakfast room and a lovely breakfast. Everything is fresh, fresh, fresh, and they cater to our American tastes with scrambled eggs, wonderful sausages, plenty of coffee, and real food - whole milk, real sugar, plain Greek yogurt, freshly squeezed juices and freshly cut fruit. Interestingly, we seem to make it from breakfast at 8:00 a.m. to lunch at 1:30 p.m. with no morning letdown. Hm.

Our room is really nice, the water is hot and plentiful, the beds are comfortable, the management is nice, ready to suggest interesting things to do at night - if only we could stay awake ....

This morning we set out at 9:00 a.m. and began our studies as our instructor has intended. We are learning about the architecture and a little bit of the history of Barcelona from Roman times forward. As we sat in the shade in the Placa Nova across from the cathedral, little walkie-talkie thingies tuned in to Channel 2, Arleen began with the Roman walls and towers, and described the building materials and techniques of those wily Romans. It's completely understandable that they conquered the world and ruled for hundreds of years - those guys were masters of design and planning, and tried very hard to build systems that worked. So interesting to see how the city has grown over the last 2,000-plus years, with sediment and new buildings raising the ground level at least 10 feet, and more in some areas where there are hills.

(Above - Our group, lined up on the wall, beginning our journey of architectural exploration. Yes, that's Mike in the foreground. Sorry, honey.)

Just as impressive is the general Spanish and specific Catalan commitment to preservation. Though the city has grown exponentially from its very small outpost beginnings in Roman times, the people have willingly (most of the time) taken great pains to preserve history. The result is a unique mix of ancient and modern, with careful attention paid to details like texture and color. Apartments have been created within the ancient watchtowers, spaces have been filled to accommodate businesses. It's not uncommon to pass a small shop with wonderful clothes and shoes, obviously marketing to Barcelona's hip young folks, with an entrance through an ancient arch, or outside walls sporting ceramic plaques with quotes from the Bible or St. Augustine, and a gargoyle perched on the second floor cornice. As I noted earlier, the result is charming, a testament to the possibilities of design, and true to the idea of form following function. (And form following function is a concept that will be debunked at a later date by our esteemed professor. Sorry, my education is really, really out of date.)

(Above - Modern covered walkway exiting a medieval cathedral - note very modern sculpture. Love this!)

(We will pick up our Roman studies again tomorrow, in Besalu.)

After another outstanding lunch at what is becoming our favorite tapas hangout, we walked greater distances from our home base, becoming more confident as we begin to be familiar with the area. We shopped (mostly just looking), people-watched, then gathered at 2:30 and marched to meet our bus for a trip to Montserrat.

Montserrat is a mountain, a basilica and a monastery. The name means "the serrated mountain," and it looks like the giant teeth of Grendl, sprouting from the earth. Our guide on both the bus trip and the walking tour, a delightful young man called Julio, shared this: the Pyrenees (which are somewhat to the north) will grow taller over the next millennia, as the tectonic plate of Africa pushes against the Iberian peninsula and makes those mountains move. Who knew?

Montserrat itself is a lovely locale, inhabited on a permanent basis by only 80 monks, but host to hundreds of thousands of tourists and pilgrims. It's a very sacred spot to Catalan's Catholic faithful (and others from around the world), and houses the Black Virgin, which legend says was discovered as a result of divine direction by a group of children in the year 980. Then the original was hidden in a cave to protect it from enemies, and somehow the Catalans just forgot exactly where it was. So a replica was carved in the 12th century. While this sounds a bit odd, the fact is that the statute in the basilica is very, very old.

The Madonna is a wood carving, darkened over the centuries, which sits behind glass high above the altar of the magnificent basilica, whose soaring arches and high windows draw the eyes heavenward. The faithful can climb stairs behind the altar and pass very close to the Black Virgin, who holds an orb that extends from behind the glass. Pilgrims are welcome to touch the orb and seek blessings from the Holy Mother.

Outside the church itself are the buildings and library of the monastery. There is a wonderful shop that's attached where one can sample the fine liqueurs produced by the Benedictine order, or perhaps purchase herbs and spices - herbs grown in the monastery gardens. The views from the placa are of the soaring teeth of the mountain, the blue sky, and the valley far below. What a wonderful side trip, one that won't be forgotten! We only wished we had more time, perhaps to take a hike to the cave where the Virgin was discovered, or maybe even take the funicular to the very top - which is very, very high!

After returning to Barcelona, seven of us had dinner in a little restaurant on a side street about halfway back to our hotel. Red wine, cava, pints of local beer - gazpacho, avocado salad - and hamburgers! But what hamburgers - topped with local cheese, local ham, onions, Dijon mustard, special mayonnaise, and accompanied by tiny baskets of just the right number of very small fries.

Truly this is a gastronomic adventure as well as an architectural one.

Tomorrow - Besalu!

June 3, 2015 - Contemplating Barcelona from Barcelona

June 3, 2015, The Hotel Regencia Colon - With a view of the Cathedral

After an uneventful although boring flight (but upside, watched "The Second Best Marigold Hotel") direct from Atlanta to Barcelona, we arrived in Spain about 8:30 a.m. Getting through passport control and finding our private bus took a little while, but after a longish ride alongside the port of Barcelona and through the working side of town, we walked the half-block from the bus stop to the hotel and finally got into the lobby around 11:30 a.m. We had hoped that our rooms would be ready, but, alas, no luck. So we stowed our luggage in the quiet breakfast area, and set out to do a bit of exploring.

First on the agenda - get oriented. Last summer in Florence, we set our sights on the Duomo, knowing if we kept it in view we could always find our way back to the hotel. In Barcelona we will use the Cathedral. Its spires are ultra-Gothic, its carvings and bas-relief intricate. We're looking forward to going inside, and maybe riding the elevator to the top just for the view, but that's an adventure for another day.

We can't help comparing Barcelona to Florence, at least as far as ambience and general vibe - and we know it's unfair. We've been here only a few hours. But here are a couple of observations: Mike says he feels a little more at home here. He thinks it's because all around us we hear Spanish (or Catalan, or English, or French, or German, or, well, whatever). We're from Florida. We are comfortable with Spanish, and Spanish-speakers. It's kind of homey.  This is my first impression: We are surrounded by ancient architecture which peeks through layers of centuries of renovations and changes, at least as far as the buildings are concerned. But all the public art we've seen, with the exception of the Christropher Columbus statue, is ultra-modern. We're assured by our amazing instructor, Arleen Pabon, that we will see quite a bit of ancient art, also. But it stills feels different from Florence. The vibe is young, avant garde, in-your-face. We pass a building facade designed by Picasso - and it's unmistakably Picasso. This is going to be way cool.

But lunch is in order, and we stop into a tapas bar which has come highly recommended. Tapas plates and bowls line the bar in two tiers - little sandwiches made of wonderful ham and great cheese, red sweet peppers stuffed with some of the best tuna salad I've ever tasted, little bowls of what looks like American canned fruit cocktail, but which turns out to be lovely fresh fruit, cubed very small, mostly yellow, with one perfect raspberry. Every plate's contents is skewered with a long wooden toothpick. (A small sign says, in English, "Pick up sandwiches by the bread." I think English-speakers must try to use the skewers as handles, thereby sending the sandwiches flying apart and onto the floor.) Mike finds the one turkey sandwich (just one - and the wonderful sweet lady behind the counter knows the word "chicken" but says "not chicken" and I say "big chicken?" and mimic a gobble and she laughs and nods - and it's pavo, I'm pretty sure), chooses another ham and cheese, (carefully picking them up by the bread), and I take the tuna-stuffed sweet red pepper and the little bowl of fruit, and he has water, and I have water, and we have lunch for 8.55 euro. Ha! Bonus: the sweet server who brings drinks to our tables (there were at least eight of us from the group of OLLIs) is from Cuba, and somehow we feel as though we've met someone from home.

After lunch, Arleen takes us on a kind of unplanned and not-in-our-syllabus walk, then we return to the hotel by around 1:15 and collapse around the lobby until our rooms are ready promptly at 2:00 p.m.

(Above - the view from our room.)

(Above - the view OF our room.)

The rooms are comfortable and nice, the closet has 12 hangers (a European record, in my experience), the air conditioner works very well, and we have a little balcony. Plus we have a great window shade over the French doors, and it goes up and down electrically. We unpack, turn up the air, bring the shade down over the window, and crash into oblivion until the alarm wakes us at 5:30, at which time we dress and head to the lobby for our first group meeting, having finally brushed our teeth for the first time in about 30 hours. I know, yuck.

After our meeting, we head to a favorite restaurant of Arleen's. As she explains it, she and her family have made it a tradition to dine at Restaurente Los Caracoles www.loscaracoles.es on the first night of every visit to Barcelona. Los Caracoles (The Snails) has been a Barcelona fixture since the eighteenth century, and the decor is delightful. There are carved snail newel posts on the staircases leading to the second and third levels, food being prepared right in front of patrons on the first level, low ceilings, narrow passageways, white linen, plain china and glassware - and bread cooked in swirls that look exactly like a snail's shell. And the food - wonderful. We did all the touristy things (Arleen says we have to get it out of our system), having pitchers of sangria, paella, and the Catalan version of flan for dessert. A feast!

Then back to the hotel through the dusk, watching the shops close and the lights come on. The Cathedral is beautiful in the special light of evening. The restaurants and bars are just beginning to stir as the bells chime at 9:00 p.m. The old folks from Tallahassee, Florida, U.S.A., are full of good food and wine and worn to an absolute nub. To bed.