Montserrat

Getting to Montserrat was a challenging travel exercise. We left Monday afternoon, and on Monday morning we had to be out of the hostel and take our luggage with us. So, we did this crazy shuffle of going from the hostel to the big train station, then to Sagrada Família, back to the big train station to pick up our bags from the locker, and then to the commuter rail station to take the train to Montserrat, all via metro.
While getting our tickets, we were helped by a rather zealous train station employee, and while I wanted to use the ticket machine myself, he was helpful in communicating to us that the Cremallera de Montserrat was not an option for us (as I later found out, during the winter it is maintenanced and therefore only open weekends). I insisted, he insisted, and then won. It would have been preferrable to me to have my feet anchored on a rack-rail, instead of a cable car, but alas, it was not to be.

Here's Mum and I being silly on the train to Montserrat.
I think the picture on her picture is probably sillier.

The train ride itself was rather uneventful. I felt really consipicuous because we were the only tourists on the train going the direction we were (to the suburbs) on a Monday afternoon. Usually people go to Montserrat for the day, and the tourists were going in the reverse direction we were both to and fro.

Here's the Aeri station from the top. If you click on the photo to enlarge it, you will see the bottom station at the middle of the far, far left. The Aeri also crosses the Llobregat River.
The guy who operated the Aeri was a scream. We talked a bit on the way down, and he had been doing it for I think 40 years, if I understood him correctly, which I may not have.
He had such an interesting look, and such an unusual job.
Cocktail party: "Yah, I ride up and down a wire 40 times a day, 11 months out of the year."

This is the entire route of the funicular we took to go up the cliff even higher.
Basically, the monastery complex is on a little shelf halfway up a cliff. There is also a road and the aforementioned rack rail to get from the river level to the monastery level.
We took the funicular even higher up.
If I went back, I would take the funicular up and then walk down,
it would have been a very pleasurable and not very difficult walk.
On the way down, we were in the car with the operator (different guy), a cleaning woman (to clean the toilets at the top station), and a tourist from Andalucia. In the less than 5 minutes that the ride took, they discussed:
wild asparagus (in season right now and something that evidently they go nuts over), the relative dangers of the funicular, and how bad the euro is for the economy (the plight of southern Europe, it would seem). Basically, all the polite topics possible for genteel Europeans.

This is the view from the top of the Sant Joan funicular.
The serrated cliffs (hence, Montserrat) were amazing.

It's times like this I love traveling with my mum, because I get the impression she's mostly fearless. At the same time, my (or what I see to be) weaknesses show -- see the post about the stairs at Sagrada Família, or above regarding my trepidation about the cable car.
These are things I can do but would prefer not to.
Meanwhile, my mum was hanging out the window of the cable car and can stand and peer over the edge of a cliff, knowing it freaks me out. In this picture, she smiles impishly knowing that.

You can see this chapel in the background of the previous picture. I have a picture of the inside, but it was really nothing special, so I decided not to post it. The amazing thing is that the chapel was built here anyway, and there were chapels and hermitiges even higher up, which we could have gone to, but I was nudgy because we had already crossed a barrier and it was windy and so I felt waifish.

Here's the basilica and monastery complex. Our hotel was to the left, but you can't see it in this picture. I liked the whole thing, because while it's very ancient, the buildings are not afraid to be modern -- most of the complex has been redone in the earlier 20th century by the same Catalan architects active in Barcelona.

In the portico of the Basilica.

In case you didn't get it the first time, Roma caput mundi, even in Spain.

The flame of the Catalan language. The bible was translated from the original languages into Català by the Benedictines at Montserrat, and their publishing house was one of the ways that Català was retained as a literary and spoken language during the years of Franco's repression. In that way, religion and politics mixed for the nationalist cause and Montserrat was a wonderful thorn in Franco's falanged fascist side, because the site is one of immense popular devotion and a symbol of Catalan nationalism.

The real highlight of Montserrat is the Escolania, the boy's choir that is the oldest in Europe. I don't have any pictures because they didn't want them to be taken during services. We heard them three times, twice during vespers and once for the Salve Regina. While the Salve Regina was very good, the basilica was packed with tourists and it made for a much less pleasurable listening and meditational experience. Meanwhile, by vespers at 6, most tourists have gone (at least in the winter) and so there are under 20 visitors in the basilica while the monks have vespers and the Escolania comes in towards the end. Quite exceptional.

Sagrada Família

We had been to Sagrada Família I think twice before we actually got in. A lot of guidebooks don't recommend paying to get in, but it was amazing to see the construction of what is really the last Gothic cathedral, as I remembered the David Macaulay books of my childhood. While we were in there, I kept wondering how the construction workers felt about working there, if they were proud to be involved in such a project or not...

The Passion Façade, by still-alive sculptor Subirachs.

I loved this, I thought it hit the nail on the head. On the doors are the passion narratives of the gospels in relief, with important phrases in even deeper relief + in gold. This one says, "and what is the truth?" Even taken out of context, it's good.

We had a lot of time to enjoy the interior, because we had to wait a long time for the elevator to go up. By the time we got down, it didn't matter that we were kind of herded through the rest, and it is all still a working construction site. Because of how many people come through every year, it should be done by 2030, or when I'm in my mid-forties. I think I'll have to return to Barcelona at least to see this finished.

This is up in the towers (or spires?) above the Passion façade. This guy was doing electrical work using climing gear and with a drill tied to his leg -- and it's a long way down.

For whatever reason, Mum got all Freudian on me and could not get over the phallic shape of the Torre Agbar, which was recently featured at MoMA. I don't see it.
I put this photo here, because the building is visible from Sagrada Família and I took it from there. We didn't go visit it specifically, although I think I would on a future visit.

Note that the stairs down only have a railing on one side,
and that the stairs are attached to the wall, not the center. A terrifying innovation.

Another example of a spiral staircase in Sagrada Família. I'm not sure, but I know that for example in Casa Battló, the spiral staircases were not actually circular, I don't know about these ones. Also, it's reminiscent of this spiral staircase in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

The Nativity Façade,
which was completed during Gaudí's lifetime

The Tallers, or Workshops.
This building was so fascinating to me, because both the walls and the ceilings undulate in every direction, yet it's so simple and based on nature. I keep saying that, but it amazed me every time.

Around the Cathedral

Contrary to popular belief, La Sagrada Família is not the cathedral of Barcelona.

This was some really awesome stenciling, not so much for the technique, but for it's message.
On the left, "many speak but few look" and on the right, "many look but few improvise."



I would be remiss if I did not mention that Sunday 4 March was the Marathon. Right below this façade, runners from all over Europe were passing by.



This was the end of an aqueduct into the ancient Roman town Barcino, which was to become, of course, Barcelona. It has ended up a flying buttress to a wall in part of the cathedral complex.


These next two are in the cloister of the Cathedral:




The following is a growing trend, it seems. Need money to restore your cathedral? Have it sponsored by a large multinational corporation!

Nationalizing Catholicism, or, Not our Inquisition!

I liked this gutter, it reminds me of a zephyr.

This is absolutely fundamental. These are caganers (literally, shitters), one of which are traditionally put in the creche at Christmas time. I couldn't get a good photo of the rear, but there's a little pile under the posterior.
And yes, we bought one.

Music Video: Sardanes

This video, presented here in extremely poor quality, was taken in front of the Cathedral. While the Castillian language mass is going on inside, the Catalans are outside creating all of this beautiful ruckus! It's a lovely way to assert nationalism: it's visible, enjoyable, spontaneous, and comunal.

Casa Batlló

More Gaudí, with some Puig i Cadafalch thrown in towards the end, because basically within one block are 3 masterpieces of Catalan Modernism. Domenèch i Montaner was the pre-Gaudí #1 Catalan architect, and he did the building on the corner of the block, but the house next to the Casa Batlló was done by Josep Puig i Cadafalch, who was a contemporary and friend of Gaudí.

Mom and I were talking at one point, she feels that most Americans have no clue about Gaudí. I argue most American's exposure to Gaudí is via the bargain book tables at Borders. This stuff is so important, as I think the Barcelona Pavilion also is -- but I don't know what the answer is. Like, who knows who van der Rohe was either? It's not like they're unknown, but it's not like they're household names, either. Is Frank Lloyd Wright more mainstream? In America, in Europe?

The Casa Batlló is not refurnished the way Casa Milà is. It really gives it a different vibe.

detail of banister

After looking back at this photo, I think that actually, the most interesting thing to note are the air vents in the lower right corner -- not the parquet floors or undulating windows, but the integrated air vents.

This blue tile was like a sea, and there was light pouring in
everywhere, which was the desired effect, but unbelievable and indescribable. The blue tiles are in the interior courtyard from top to bottom.

So here you can see the Puig i Cadafalch building right next Gaudí's Casa Batlló. It's different, but they both look back to the gothic (prosperous for the Catalans, not for Madrid) period to express the new Catalan prosperity of the late 19th century/early 20th. I love the nationalism inherent in this type of work, it makes something tangible out of something that is otherwise very abstract, and so it is inherently and purposefully symbolic. Two interior details of the Casa Amatller:

Casa Milà - La Pedrera

First very important point: People still actually live in this building.
Second very important point: I love the movie The Passenger, with Jack Nicholson and directed by Michelangelo Antonioni. It, and L'auberge Espagnole, are what informed my idea of Barcelona until I actually got there.

So. Gaudí must have been an insane genius. This building is so beautiful, and in many ways very, very simple (natural forms everywhere) but it is so hard for me to wrap my head around and probably was the single most overwhelming thing of the trip.

Façade

Back in the day, I wanted to be a bathroom designer, remember?

This print was in the reproduction of the theoretical children's room. I tend to associate these (evidently they are called Chinese yo-yos or Diabolos) with travelers/spiritual seekers (cf. The Zahir by Paulo Coelho), and so it was kind of ironic to see them being used by borgeois children. I wonder what current practicioners would think or say if they saw this.


A floorplan. There's basically no 90° angle in the whole building. I still don't know how I feel about this, I really don't understand it. I mean, I don't understand the whole system, not just the lack of 90° angles.

These were to demonstrate the natural forms Gaudí was looking to for inspiration for structural support. I think it's what makes the buildings so elegant, and effectively simple, even though they're also not.

How the catenary arch works. The whole thing is so amazingly sophisticated and yet, after seeing a model like this, so simple. I think Gaudí's ultimate message is that nature is both incredibly simple and incredibly complicated at the same time, and so his buildings are a reflection of that concept and a continuation of nature into something man-made.

Interior courtyard. It was so, so colorful.

Mum and me on the roof, taken by a very nice Italian tourist.

Park Güell

We arrived at the Park Güell, yet another Gaudí masterpiece, from above; that is, we reached it from the Vallcarca Metro stop and a series of extremely steep escalators that are pretty much the street Baixada de la Glòria. The stores at the "landings"/corners were closed, because there must be so much business in €1 bottles of water during the summer that the people who own the stores are laughing all the way to the bank during the winter.

When you get to the top of the hill, it's rather scummy, with the exception of the interesting varieties of cactus along the path. There is still more to walk up, although this is not really in the area designed by Gaudí. Still, from there, we had this lovely view and message from non-Catalan anarchist squatters (at least, their roof painting was not in Català), saying "Why call it tourist season if you can't shoot them?" and "occupy and resist":


The issue of affordable housing is something that is really afflicting the West these days, but it doesn't get enough media attention (one example here, though). For example, New York City has a dearth of affordable housing, and Europe is also at a critical point. It's a growing movement all over the place, and rightly so, because proposed solutions exist: hello, Bauhaus and Le Courbousier! It's like the last thing from modernism we still have left to revolutionize or at least, deal with. Of course, the elephant in the room is that affordable housing is not profitable enough for real estate developers: El Greedo strikes again.

I will not post the pictures of the famous undulating belvedere bench, but rather focus on the underside of it, which was much more interesting to me.


This caryatid of sorts holds up one of the viewpoints away from the main belvedere -- but it also incorporates catenary arches in a really Gothick way -- I'm thinking Strawberry Hill here. Underneath the main piazza of the park, there's this under-the-sea feeling with an undulating white tile ceiling held up by columns that of course are not your average static classical types.

Below are only three examples of trencadís in the Park Güell, but also all over almost every roof Gaudí did:

one of the gatehouses, kind of gingerbready.