June 8, 2015 - What an exciting evening, and all day long

Last evening we sat at the cafe on the cathedral plaza and watched as people thronged to see and hear the ceremonies and parade for the celebration of the holy day of Corpus Christi. There was music and a solemn procession, and the parade of giant puppets wound around the cathedral through the narrow streets and back into the square. Quite a spectacle!

*

This morning we set out once again at 9:00 a.m., headed to Las Ramblas. Las Ramblas is a lengthy promenade, almost in the French fashion, with each Rambla named for a particular feature of that block or group of blocks. There are buildings on each side, with narrow sidewalks, then a traffic lane on each side of the middle wide area meant for - well, rambling. The Rambla of the flowers is filled with flower stalls selling wonderful arrangements, plants, pots, and seeds. There is a whole Rambla with nothing but little cafes.

And of course there are vendors everywhere, hawking souvenirs, pleading with tourists to come in for tapas, caffe, even ice cream. High above the street on a balcony is a woman (or maybe a man) dressed as Marilyn Monroe, complete with platinum blonde wig and iconic dress, made to blow up around her (his?) waist by a handy electric fan. She/he was beckoning us all to come up to the Erotic Museum. Those arms were pretty muscular, and the legs underneath that dress - well, let's just say they had little resemblance to the originals.

We passed the beautiful opera house of Barcelona, and the Theatre Principal.

Arleen pointed out that along Las Ramblas we begin to see touches of the modernista architecture - there's even a large circular portion of the pavement that was designed by Joan Miro and given to the city as his gift. We take a brief detour off the main promenade to see the Palau Guell, designed for the very, very wealthy Sr. Guell by Gaudi himself.

As we reached the end of Las Ramblas, we turned and walked along the seaside to one of the highlights of our trip: a private tour of the Royal Academy of the Arts. Arleen's very good friend had arranged for our group to visit - and what a treat it was, indeed. We viewed the most beautiful llatja (familiar to Americans as loggia) where merchants have met to trade in all kinds of commodities since the 14th century. It was absolutely breathtaking.

(Above - Awful picture taken with my camera which does not do well without flash.)

Then we were permitted to sit in the Academy meeting hall upstairs while Arleen offered a lesson on the functioning of such institutions all over Europe. This was such a privilege - we were quite awestruck.

Our morning of formal instruction ended at this point, and we made our way across the busy street to the beautiful public areas of the port. Totally renovated for the 1992 Olympics, this is an amazing area. Locals and tourists alike stroll the boardwalk, sit in the parks, and (as we did) have lunch in cafes that overlook the marina.

 (Above - my lunch. Note Russian salad with small cone protruding. This became one of my faves.)

I must report that after this most amazing morning and early afternoon we returned to the hotel and did something so boring: laundry. This most necessary task was interesting also. The little laundromat was quite an experience. We are indebted to the kindness of two different merchants in the dingy little street who gave us change for our euros with a smile. The washer demanded four euros and 50 cents - exact change only. The dryer needed a two-euro coin - only. Sigh. We now have clean underwear.

This evening we returned to a little square that we discovered on this morning's walk and had a lovely dinner. Then back to the hotel - time to pack for Madrid! We leave early in the morning to catch the bullet train, and will return Thursday evening. I'll have my trusty netbook and will keep posting! But now - since we have a 5:45 a.m. get-up - to bed.

June 7, 2015 - We're really beginning to feel comfortable here

Last night (Saturday) we strolled over to the plaza in front of the cathedral, hoping for a castell, which is sometimes performed on Saturday evenings in the summer. Basically it's a human pyramid, with extra points earned for quick construction and quick tear-down. No luck; no castell. Then we remembered: the European championship of futbol was to be played - Barcelona vs. Whoever - and it was due to begin any moment and would be broadcast from Berlin. Since we've already been told and have agreed that Barca is the best futbol team in the universe, we could understand what was happening: everyone was glued to a TV somewhere. (We're Seminoles, remember?)

SO - we strolled to what's become a favorite little restaurant - not long on ambience, but great food and a most congenial waiter. The five of us were seated, had ordered, were having a small adult beverage, and the whole place exploded into cheers - Barca goooaaaallll! Seriously. We could have been at the Ale House on a fall Saturday night in Tallahassee.

We strolled back to the hotel, only to find almost our entire group in the lobby around the TV. Sure enough, everyone was watching Barca futbol! We went to our room and tuned it in. We are gratified to report that Barca won, 3-1, and is the official European soccer champion. The celebration continued into the night.

*

This morning we were back at our studies promptly at 9:00 a.m. To conclude the medieval portion, we visited the Church of Santa Maria del Mar. This has become our favorite church so far. The residents of the neighborhood (our El Born from yesterday) long ago decided they must have a church. They hauled blocks of stone all the way from Montjuic, the women provided food for the workers, and they built a truly remarkable space. Arleen assured us that this church is as wide as is possible using medieval materials and architectural knowledge. While most of the medieval churches are quite narrow, concentrating the focus on the altar and above, this church is wide inside. There is great space and light (relatively speaking), and much less ornamentation and splendor. It has the feel of the common man. We loved it.

We then ventured a short way down the Passeig El Born towards the cultural center, then made our way back via Las Ramblas. We did take a brief break, during which time Mike and I treated ourselves to the first baked goods of the trip - two enormous chocolate cookies.

After a light lunch at Pans (which is definitely European fast food), we set out for a free afternoon. We opted for the Barcelona City History Museum, and it did not disappoint.

Beneath the royal palace and the courtyard where Ferdinand and Isabella welcomed Christopher Columbus is the excavation of Barcelona as it existed from the time of the Romans. These ruins were preserved from the 9th century, even as new layers of city were being constructed on top of them. The world benefits from Barcelona's thousand-year tradition of historic preservation. Today's visitors can go down in an elevator to the Roman level, and move slowly through the decades while ascending back to the year 2015. This museum is beautifully curated, with exceptional labeling in many languages, including English, so one can truly understand the history from Barcino to Barcinona to Barcelona. The artifacts are stunning: there are Roman spoons that could easily be used at today's breakfast table. There are frescoes that glow, even when viewed from many feet away. There are fish macerating vats and wine vats and dye vats and laundry vats that contain residue from the 4th century A.D. There are funerary busts that, as the narration notes, completely accomplish their original intent: people are still talking about these folks long after their deaths. 

This was an amazing experience, and we were there for at least two hours. Bonus: museums are free to the public on first Sundays, so we didn't even need a ticket!

We then found a lovely, cool sidewalk bar and refreshed ourselves with a beer (Mike) and a glass of wine (me). Those who know me will be surprised to hear that I quite enjoy the local white wine - it's a Catalan grape that is very refreshing and light. And have I mentioned the weather? It's been perfect. Low 80s in the daytime with a lovely sea breeze, high 60s in the evening. We can stroll the streets and sit in the cafes and enjoy, enjoy, enjoy.

Now we're having a bit of toes-up. Today is the celebration of the Feast of Corpus Christi at the cathedral, and we can hear the music through our open window. In a half hour or so, we'll go out in search of dinner. But for the moment, we rest and decide that this is pretty fabulous.      

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.

Contemplating Barcelona from a small city in Florida

Artist's rendering - La Sagrada Familia (The Holy Family)
Maybe it will look like this some day ....

With just over a week before we leave for Barcelona, I'm surrounded by and drowning in lists.

I have a TO DO list, a TO TAKE list, a TO BUY list. I have a list of lists. With all of these reminders, I'm beginning to think I have things under control, that we will actually get up on the morning of June 1 and be completely ready to pack, methodically, not missing a thing, and that each suitcase will miraculously weigh just under 50 pounds. Or less.

SO - I'm giving myself permission to sit with my guidebooks and the marvelous novel, "The Shadow of the Wind," by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, and plunge into learning about the city.

The novel is spellbinding. Though it's set in the years from just after World War II until the 1960s, it's evocative of Victor Hugo or even Charles Dickens. Dark and brooding, the story twists through the wintry streets and squares of the city as it mesmerizes the reader with mystery, romance, and even a bit of farce. It makes fascinating treadmill fare - the most boring hour of exercise melts away as I turn the pages. Here's my favorite phrase so far - and it was tough to pick one out - as the author describes Barcelona: " . . . a very faraway city, trapped between a moon of mountains and a sea of light, a city filled with buildings that could exist only in dreams." And this for La Sagrada: " . . . a large hair comb made of melting chocolate." This is my second favorite.

Thanks to the wonderful OLLI at FSU Maymester classes on Spanish art (with a generous helping of art history), we feel as though we might be able to refine our list (a list, again) of what not to miss into a manageable plan. I suspect we could stay for far more than two weeks and still not have scratched the surface of what-to-see and what-to-do. But we have discovered this about ourselves: We want to take our time. We want to bring our sensibilities to the experience. We want to sit and have a glass of cava, or perhaps dip a sweet bun into a warm chocolate pudding and let the city get into our heads. 

I can't wait to find out if what we're anticipating will indeed be the reality - or if it's even better than we are imagining.