A Rose is a Rose is a Rose

The blocks surrounding my apartment are filled with beautiful buildings, today I ventured a bit father afield to see a true stunner.  Palau de Pedralbes was a formal royal residence and was a gift from Count Guell.  As in, the same family that sponsored lots of famous Gaudi works (Park Guell, Palau Guell, etc).

The previous royal palace had burned down in 1875, so a bunch of monarchists raised serious cash and built Palau de Pedralbes.  Of course, this gentrification of the area (pretty far outside the town center, especially back in 1919 when the idea was proposed) raised the value of the Guells' land by creating a new fabulous neighborhood for the rich and famous.

Designed by architect Eusebi Bona, continued by Francesc de Paula Nebot

This famous statue, Queen Isabella II Introducing Prince Alfonso XII is by Agapit Vallmitjana (try saying that five times fast) and sits just outside the entrance to the palace

The inside of the palace is stunning.  While you have to have your bag x-rayed, you apparently don't have to pay to get in (contrary to the information I was working on).  The place is truly a palace.  Every surface is bedazzled.  The walls are their own works of art, bearing beautiful paintings with rich colors; the moldings serve as makeshift "frames".  The ceilings writhe with interwoven designs.  This chandelier hangs down, sparkling, to greet you.

 The palace was given new life in 1932 as the Museum of Decorative Arts, but it was closed during the Civil War and used as a residence for the president of the Spanish Republic until the end of the war.  Beginning in 1939, the new Spanish dictator General Francisco Franco (dun dun dun) used it as his Barcelona residence. It was then used for important exhibitions starting in the 1960s and has housed both the Museum of Decorative Arts AND the Museum of Ceramics since the 1990s.  Therefore, it was these two museums that I came to see.

I had been warned that these museums were only fascinating if you are utterly consumed by either ceramics or unlimited-budget interior design.  While this is true, I still found it fun to poke around and admire all the pretty things.  Plus, it was interesting to see the history of Spain reflected in the ceramics exhibit, since some of the pieces (like the one below) dated back to the tenth century.

 The designs on later pieces reflected first Islamic and then Italian influences; as techniques improved, more colors and detail (as well as more adventurous shapes) appeared.  It was like watching Spain hasten toward a modern world.

 And then came the birth of the ceramic tile scenes that decorate the city and have become one of my favorite features of major buildings.

 This one's a game: most of these depict careers but one seems to depict a highly random scene.  Or a very strange career.  Can you find it? (Answer at the bottom)

 And I found a new Spanish fling (feelings not reciprocated.  Alas for unrequited love and a very heartless love interest).

 These I just thought were fun... they're for olive oil and vinegar.

 The exhibit closed with a few modern pieces; these two made me laugh.

"Deluxe money box: A money box for large projects that can only be filled with bills as it doesn't hold coins" (by Ana G. Capell)

"Maiolica bottles: Traditional ornamental plate and jug motifs applied to soft drink bottles with the skill of the artisan masters whose brush strokes decorate mass-produced pieces with industrial shapes and connotations" (by Julio Badajoz)

Just a stroll across the palace and I was in the exhibit on Decorative Arts.  I found this one slightly boring, since everything just seemed too fancy and ornate to be useful.  This bed did confuse me a bit (and we thought water beds were impractical!):

I would appreciate it if anyone can explain this to me.  It isn't a crib; it's a full-sized bed.

 But mostly, I enjoyed the Decorative Arts exhibit because it showed off the grandeur of the residence.  Can you imagine living somewhere with walls and a ceiling painted in Sistine Chapel-esque splendor?

 After touring the palace, I got a chance to see the gardens.  You're first welcomed into this haven of cool, quiet greenery by Mediterrania, a female nude by Eulalia Fabregas de Sentmenat.  She seems rather happy to be frolicking in the water, and in the heat of midday, everyone who walked by was pretty jealous (all fountains are marked as non-potable water and not for swimming.  Phooey).

Mediterrania was joined by several sculptural friends.  This piece, called Kolonihaven (Playhouse) by Enric Miralles, was roped off from public use (ironically).  

 Pshhh.  That didn't stop the toddling kids that I saw from making use of it.


Since this was a Guell project, Gaudi was obviously involved.  He contributed two pieces; the first, called Pergola, seems to pay tribute to his love of nature in its simplicity.  He provides a space to enter nature and appreciate it, while using the same curved arches that look like ribcages in the attics of the townhouses he designed for wealthy clients (i.e. Casa Batllo, Casa Mila).

 Gaudi's other contribution was the Hercules Fountain (1884).  Constructed early in his career, Gaudi renders the hero in a more classic style.

 Just up the street from this park was another one that I have wanted to see for quite some time.  Parc Cervantes, a triangular plot of land along the end of Diagonal (the street that cuts through the city as an equal-opportunity grid disrupter).  While it has the typical winding paths among trees and offers serenity, it also offers an incredibly display of roses.  Native Catalunyan roses brush thorns with breeds from around the world.  The rose gardens of Parc Cervantes have even been internationally recognized for excellence.

 After a long week, I was excited to literally stop and smell the roses.  All several thousands of them.  The feeling one gets while walking through this part of the park is perfectly depicted by Serenittat, a female nude by Eulalia Fabregas de Sentmenat (same sculptor as the other park).

 And now follow a huge amount of pictures of really gorgeous flowers.  I swear, I spared you from seeing about 100 more pictures of beautiful blooms.

This species was dubbed "Gaudi"

Rombes bessons, by Adreu Alfaro (1977)

Adam, by Vasallo (lounging comfortably in the nude like a true Catalan man on a hot summer day)

 Home to all of the climbing vine-type species

 And that, my friends, is how I spent the afternoon with Ginger Syllabub, Long John Silver, Constance Spry, Coral Dawn, Mermaid, and Aloha.

After so much green, it was time for some blue (and some more green).  I headed back downtown to Parc de Ciutadella (Citadel Park)

 to meet up with two fellow Yalies.  Kaylee and Charlie, who just graduated, are on Day 39 of an epic Eurotrip designed to test their perseverance in the face of Too Much Awesomeness and excessive amounts of time in each other's company.  They are doing an admirable job, having conquered 11 countries so far.  Even better? They were game to join me on another adventure: paddle boating.

 While some might hem and haw about how you can't really have an adventure on a tiny lake in the middle of a park, we beg to differ.  With the help of our human motor Charlie

 and the incredible chlidishness of all three fearless sailors, we managed to colonize an island (dubbed Baller; note that in Castellano this is pronounced Bah-yehr.  Also note our beautiful flag) and defend it from ducks

 as well as get stranded on underwater rocks, peg unsuspecting imaginary enemies with seedpods from trees mysteriously growing in the middle of the lake, and nearly paddle through a waterfall beneath a bridge.  All in a day's work for intrepid explorers.

Spotted: Franklin and Marshall gear.

If you haven't heard about this stunning new trend all over Europe, two hip young designers bought a Franklin and Marshall t-shirt at a flea market a few years ago and turned it into one of the biggest fads this side of the pond.  Read more about it here.

Answer from trivia above: bottom row, second from the right.  This man appears as a torso rising out of a sea creature.  This isn't what I do at work every day... maybe this career died out in the 19th century?

Revel with the Devil

Yesterday, I ventured past the city limits to a suburb called Terrasa.  This also happens to be Ignasi's hometown; he had clued me in to a weekend-long festival of traditional Catalan activities occurring there.

 He decided that the best event for me to attend was the correfoc (literally, "fire run"), happening on Friday night at 10:30 pm.  If I hopped on a train at around 9:30 pm, I'd make it into town and be able to walk to the square in time to join the throng of fellow fire runners.

Lest you think that just anyone can participate in a correfoc, I will share with you the rules laid down by the town council: thou shalt wear only cotton (in case you light on fire, so that your clothes don't melt to your skin), thou shalt wear a hat and handkerchief, thou shalt wear long sleeves and boots.  Since sparks are flying absolutely everywhere, you want to be covered from head to toe to avoid having speckled burns riddling your body.  I didn't have any long-sleeved shirts that I wanted to sacrifice, nor did I have a large handkerchief or hat.  But what I did have was awesome labmates who brought in the necessary supplies and left them in bags on my desk so that I would be ready when my time came.  From Amanda: a GIANT (probably men's XXL) pink button-down that used to be her brothers; when the time came to throw it out, she rescued it for use during correfocs.  It already had spark burns, so she told me to add a few more.  From Ignasi: a hat and a very large black handkerchief.  I was set.

Here's a general idea of what a correfoc is like: a group of individuals dress up like devils and light immense quantities of fireworks.  Effigies of the devil are often used, although effigies of his terrible, murderous minions will suffice.  In some villages, the town square is decorated as hell, devils burn carts and shoot fireworks from the sceptre of Lucifer and the pitchfork of the she-devil.  Each town goes all-out in its own way.  I couldn't wait.

I arrived in Terrasa and made my way to Raval Montserrat, the square where the correfoc was held.  This event was actually called the Raval Infernal.  On the way, I threw the large shirt over my backpack and buttoned it up, draped the black handkerchief around my face and neck like an old Western movie bandit, and topped it all off with a dorky safari hat.
Me
My fellow madmen
I joined the throng in the square before a large, medieval-looking building.

 On the balcony, two announcers with booming voices spoke into echoey megaphones; the words were scrambled (and in Catalan) but the intent was clear: be creepy and build an atmosphere of fear and anticipation.  These announcers introduced each "round" of the correfoc, and ended each proclamation with a gush of flame from one of the attending firebreathers.

And then, the correfoc began in earnest. Drummers lined one side of the square, punching out an ominous beat of ONE-two-ONE-two-ONE-TWO-THREE, One-and-two-and-ONE-and-two-and-ONE-TWO-THREE.  This beat became the pulse of the night, sending our hearts racing as we ran, building us up for each new specter of fire.

At the beginning of a round, a giant, shellacked "creature" would be brought out to the center of the square.  These monsters were often dragon-like, sometimes a chimera of fanged beasts.  Each specter had metal clamps on its appendages, which were loaded with fire crackers. 

 

 Another monster, this time a three-headed fanged dog with a tail of coiled serpents

 Brave men and women wearing devil costumes and other traditional garb dashed about with fire and lit these firecrackers before guiding the monster through the square.

 As flames and sparkles filled the air, the correfoc frenzy began.  People would run in a circle around the beast, which then began to pursue.  The square was filled with the throaty yells of runners and handlers, the whining moan of firecrackers burning through their ammunition.

 As if there was not enough fire, more demons impaled wheels of firecrackers on tridents, lit them, and hoisted them aloft, the wheels spinning with their own fiery momentum and spewing swirling cascades of flares.

Devils and their tridents

 
 Removing spent fireworks
 And then, some people just took matters into their own hands.

This made for a blur of shouts, screams, and shimmering air that can best be described through pictures.
 

 

 The air smelled of popcorn all night

  Literally raining fire
 Because so much fire is involved in the correfoc ritual - and therefore so much danger - these events are becoming scarcer and scarcer.  Liability is just too much of a liability.  I was lucky to hear about this one and get the chance to participate.  But Terrasa was also smart: they had multiple firefighters on the sidelines, geared up in case something went terribly wrong.

And then things heated up...

A fire breather (they carried 2L water bottles filled with lighter fluid that they'd swig)

 

The dog-serpent menacing the runners

 
 As the night wore on, I became more and more enthralled by this world of fire.  I couldn't believe it when I glanced down at my watch and had to turn and run to catch the last train home.

As I sunk down into the train seat, I wondered, "Why can't we do this kind of thing for 4th of July?"  Then again, I don't think effigies of monarchists are quite as intimidating (and I'm rather fond of the current British monarchs).