Gaudi's Sagrada Familia, where the visitors miss the point

Thirty years ago a friend went to Europe and came home with photos of undulating, fantastical buildings. That's how I was introduced to the work of Antoni Gaudi.

His buildings were outrageous when he began designing them in the late 1800's, and they still feel futuristic. He began the Basilica of the Sagrada Familia in 1886, and it's scheduled to be completed in 2026. I don't think I'll get to see the finished work, but I'm glad I got to tour it in October. 

I've been in several famous churches in the US, other nations of Europe, and now Spain.  I love the majestic sweep of the eye up pillars to ceilings. Stained glass teaches history and was the only Bible the original attendees could read.  Sometimes the statuary moves beyond the familiar birth, death and resurrection of Christ to illustrate more obscure Bible accounts.




 Like the medieval cathedrals built over centuries and supervised by generations of craftsmen, La Sagrada Familia displays the varied styles of its different artists. Some of the depictions of Christ are three dimensional, cubist-like figures, all angular as if shaped with a wide flat blade. Others are intricately decorative and more life-like. Every part of the building departs from earlier styles.


 


There is also a certain symbolic whimsey to the decorative details outside.
Huge clusters of grapes are covered in  broken pieces of colored glass, as are the wheat sheaves, representing the bread and wine of communion, the blood and body of Christ

 Words urge the observer to worship: gloria, sanctus. Large doors have the Lord's prayer embossed in fifty languages.  

Inside, each pillar was different. The number of ribs carved in each decreases as it goes higher. Each capital (head of each column) is unique. You can see the ornamental medallions  glow as if they're electric!  

The windows are more impressionistic than realistic. In other cathedrals we spent time identifying the stories they tell, but here I was drawn to the overall color scheme. Each panel  seems to slide from one hue to the next, like a giant color wheel. 

  At one point the sun hit a wall of glass and the colors reflected onto the  sculpted walls and ceiling. I could imagine swimming in an underwater polychromatic cave.



Gaudi said that God was his client, and the work was done to His glory. 







It's our habit to sit down in every church we visit to pray for a moment. Unfortunately, here the crush of visitors snapping selfies, chatting and giggling, made the interior feel more like a concert hall just before a pop concert. The energy was high, but irreverent, ignoring the sacred nature of the building. 

I imagine for a person who does not know the gospel narrative, it's easy to overlook Who is supposed to get the glory in this magnificent church. 

Barcelona: high density and high intensity

Barcelona has a high population density and a high intensity lifestyle. 41,000 people live in a square mile there! 

Each apartment building is attached to the next like a siamese twin. Gracious hundred year old buildings have balconies just big enough for a few flower pots. On sunny days the floor to ceiling french doors open to let in fresh air, sheer curtains shifting with the breezes. At night I saw rows of lights and imagined the people inside reading newspapers or washing dishes in narrow kitchens.





Of course, those many people need all of the services we do. I wondered why every other person on the sidewalk was pulling a wheeled suitcase, then figured out they were shopping carts. No Costco for them. 

Traffic was relentless. Motorcycles squeezed between the lanes of moving cars. Buses were full. Underneath us, the subways carried more passengers. I asked a taxi driver if it was hard to drive there. He said the cars were careful and obeyed the law. But the motorcycles did as they wished, and they endangered everyone.

Every generation from 20's to 60's rode them. I saw stylish business women in skirts and high heels climb on, tighten their coats, and adjust their helmets. Cars seemed reserved for families with kids.






Because of apartment living the common space was very important. The plazas where streets intersected had planters and sometimes small lawns. The major roads had trees planted in strips on either side. Public parks were small, but well used. And every little restaurant had at least two tables outside.

The food was terrific. We'd heard about meals made of appetizers--tapas.

And we loved them. We quickly found two restaurants close to the hotel that we liked.  Catalonians eat lots of olives, green and red peppers, and everything is cooked in olive oil. I'm going to scour seed catalogs to find these tiny  (about 2" diameter) red peppers which were marinated in oil and vinegar before being stuffed with herbed cheese. Many of our salads included fresh asparagus, a real treat for us this time of the year. 


We could have chosen Barcelona just for the food but really came for the architecture. Next blog I will share a few photos of Gaudi's Sagrada Familia church, and a "modernismo" (1900) musical performance hall. 

Get in the mood--go munch olives!  














  

Out of Order

Dear Readers,

I upgraded my operating system and messed up by blogging platform. I don't know how to fix it, and will be OUT of ORDER for a couple of weeks.

Thanks for your patience.

Travel blogs will resume!

Regretfully,

Pam Glover

Here to There (Is Surry County in the same universe as Spain?)

I headed out for my walk today and couldn't help but contrast here with there. 

For the last two weeks I've been hoofing over pavement in Spain. There I sidled through jammed sidewalks,  strolled down tree-lined paseos,  or treaded carefully over river rocks  in medieval alleys.

Today I was alone on our country drive, rather than sharing crowded walkways. 

The breeze was moderate with a crisp tinge unlike ocean-tempered Barcelona or warm Granada.




The only color left in my yard was from leggy cosmos lying horizontal. Compared to the Alhambra, it isn't even a garden. 



Join me the next few weeks as I contrast bustling Barcelona to medieval Madrid to laid-back Granada. It will have to satisfy both of us until we book another trip.  

Breakfast at the Starbucks Academy

My city mouse grandchildren always look around for the Target and Starbucks. They can't fathom life without one or both at a nearby corner. 

Recently while visiting them, we stopped off for coffee, etc. on the way to a the airport. What surprised me was a line of families stopping to get breakfast before school.

Apparently in that neighborhood the kids don't eat breakfast at home or at the school cafeteria. Thus, Starbucks is fast food. But not really because the line was so long and it takes more than a minute to whip up decaf latte mocha with nonfat milk and no whip cream. 

The nearest two schools to that location are private, both called academies.
One costs $17,000 a year, the other doesn't state the tuition price on line. I guess if you have to ask you can't afford it. As a product of public education, and a teacher in public education, I can't fathom that kind of money.  

It baffles me. It rankles. It makes me sad because the kids I taught deserved beautiful facilities, small class sizes, well-endowed libraries, labs and even sports fields. 

Starbucks they could live without. 

Critters in the Suburbs

The distinction between inhabited and wild landscapes is blurring faster than a rabbit on the run. 

My daughter sent this photo taken on her run in a south Denver suburb. She wasn't more than 1/4 mile from major traffic areas. Seeing the doe was a nice surprise, although worrisome for the deer. But the buck! I've never seen a buck even out here in the boonies!

 used by permission of RJ Sangosti, Denver Post

Back in September she took her kids to school to discover the school was in lock down. No, not guns, a school bus full of kids and their driver spotted a bear in the neighborhood park.  No kidding. Later in the week he was tranquilized in a backyard a mile from her house! 

It's good she runs with her cell phone, but maybe she needs a holster for a big spray can of bear-b-gone. 

Ivy is a porch barnacle

I just realized that ivy is a porch barnacle. 

Like its seaward sister, it starts small and is a already a problem when you first spot it. 

It fastens itself to posts, crawls between boards, and climbs effortlessly. It grows tiny rootlets that don't need soil, and produces a superglue that allows it to adhere to any surface, even glass. The rootlets absorb water from rain and the air, and flourish anywhere. 



Left too long, it's a struggle to remove the vines. And once you dislodge it, it leaves behind tough tan dry roots. 

If barnacles are scraped off they leave behind their footprint too.  Here's a rock I picked up at the ocean. You can see large and small barnacle imprints. 

Like the ivy, cirripods manufacture a fixative that fuses the larvae to the host. They attach head first, and their bodies have tubes that deliver the glue. As the barnacle grows, layers of the animal are added, and more cement laid down. 

Of course, both ivy and barnacles add weight to whatever they affix themselves to. Ivy in a large tree can literally weigh a ton, and barnacles on a boat can slow its progress.

I don't want my porch to be overgrown with ivy so I snip it off a couple of times a year. 

As for our rowboat, maybe the barnacles are the reason I'm a klutz with oars!