A Long Walk to Nowhere

When I'm tired or grumpy or frustrated, sometimes the only thing that can help is a long walk to nowhere.  It can have predetermined stops along the way, like a museum or a pretty overlook, but in the end there is an element of freedom and let's-see-what-happens.  Enter today.

In the wee hours of this morning, it being Saturday night and all, I went out with Naaman to the beach clubs.  We were joined by two of Naaman's friends, Cassidy and Fabi, who are hilarious and made the night wonderful.  Not so wonderful? The music at the clubs and very picky bouncers.  We ended up at Shoko, where the music was so terrible that we decided we'd stay for one more song and, depending on what it was, would stay or leave.  They played an opera remix of the Queen of the Night aria from The Magic Flute, which you'll know when you listen to it HERE (skip to about 0:35).  Fabi later said she almost died laughing when she saw my face.  We made our exit.  The remainder of our night out was spent sitting on the sand in our party clothes, chatting as the Mediterranean waves crashed a few meters away.  One brave (read: drunk) couple were splashing in their underwear in the water, which to me just seemed like a very cold way to end the night.  Even though we'd spent the night walking between clubs and not really partying, we still got home at around 3:30/4:00 AM, which meant that this morning I woke up a little bit grumpy.

Though I have beheld many Gaudi masterpieces so far, I had not yet made it to Casa Mila, despite living about two blocks from its famous wavy exterior.

Casa Mila is also known as La Pedrera, or “The Quarry”, by locals for its undulating stone façade and wrought iron balconies.  At first, it was a deprecating nickname by locals, but it has been embraced as a tongue-in-cheek nickname by tourists who want to feel “in the know”.  La Pedrera was designed and built by Gaudi during the early 20^th century (1905-1910), a few years after Casa Battlo.  The building was commissioned by Roser Segimon and Pere Mila, a married couple who hoped to design an apartment building that they could both live in and manage. (Note: they were also a hot topic of local gossip, which you can read about on the Wikipedia page).  The original plan called for about 60 apartments, one of which you can walk through, but the anticipated tenants never materialized and the building was eventually donated to the city.  Then again, the original plan also called for some serious religious elements that were later abandoned due to local government regulations and the wishes of the benefactors.

Fun facts about La Pedrera:

 The famous rooftop statues enclosing water tanks, chimneys, and the like were based on the forms of smoke.  One is covered with glass fragments procured by smashing champagne bottles.

The building on the right is the one covered in champagne bottle shards.

Gaudi wanted the people who lived in the apartments to know each other, so he only put elevators on every other floor to promote communication and socialization.

Bedrooms were generally not very large, but the kitchen was quite large and the living rooms were spacious.  I guess people were quite social back in the day, unlike the apartment hermits of today with their huge bedrooms and tiny kitchens/sitting areas.

I will say that La Pedrera was a bit of a disappointment for me.  While the roof is very interesting and worth seeing, the views were not particularly spectacular (relative to those from other rooftops) and mainly included people’s drying laundry in neighboring buildings.  The inside of the building is beautiful, with waves of color and undulating stone

but the tour felt a bit forced, to me.  At Casa Battlo, (many guidebooks suggest going to one or the other, saying both is unnecessary) the audioguide was thoughtful and gave insight into Gaudi’s creative process, use of nature themes, and the specific accommodations for the everyday life of the family.  At Casa Mila, the apartment decorations felt artificial (since they were), the audioguide was simplistic and hard to follow (numbers were not particularly prominent, and there were four different colors for different types of guides, which got very confusing), and the majority of the tour was spent giving an overview of Gaudi’s other works.  Beside wandering through one apartment, the longest stretch of the tour was in the attic area, where several rooms were dedicated to Gaudi’s creative process for other buildings.  As with the tour of its own facilities, it felt forced and… introductory.  It included tiles from Casa Battlo, video clips from Parc Guell, and a hanging model for an unfinished Gaudi structure that was practically a study for La Sagrada Familia.  It might have been the grumpiness, but I felt like the tour was incredibly overpriced (about 20 euros for the audioguide and entrance WITH a student discount; families were shelling out nearly 100 euros), especially compared to other Gaudi opportunities.  No wonder there was no line.

A few pictures from the tour:

 They must not have mentioned to the tenants that the building comes with its own forest, or the waiting list would be miles long.

Period piece doll with serious attitude.

The view from one of the bedrooms

Bubble gate!

After exiting Casa Mila, I headed to Placa Jaume in the Barri Gotic (Gothic Neighborhood) to watch some traditional Catalan rituals.  Placa Jaume hosts the famous human pyramid competitions on Sundays, and it did not disappoint.  Unlike wimpy American human pyramids, these include dozens of people all dressed alike (white pants, uniform button-down, and a thick black scarf wrapped again and again around the waist.  Red handkerchief optional)

who make a STANDING HUMAN pyramid as they balance on each other’s shoulders.

They should really make flip books of these things.

The bottom layer is a community affair, the next few layers are burly men, then come the ladies, and finally the children.  Yes! Catalan tradition dictates that your eight year old daughter must don her Sunday outfit and climb a six-story human tower, hand over hand, until she balances forty or fifty feet in the air.  And then she will have two six year olds squat on her shoulders.  The small children get to wear little black helmets, but the rest of the people merely wear their pride.  

What surprised me about the human pyramids was how this tourist attraction has retained its deep Catalan roots and sense of community pride.  I merely show the red team (who won), but teams in pink and blue also competed.  When the red team successfully made their tower to the sky, each layer was screaming its victory as people slid down and the burden fell away.  Then the whole team formed what looked like a rugby scrum and screamed their heads off with pure, primal joy.

Next, it was a short walk to the Barcelona Cathedral, which has Sardana dancing in the square in front of it on Sunday mornings.  I caught the last dance, where two circles of people danced with a thoughtlessness and unity that was beautiful.  It was as though they had stepped out of their normal, everyday lives in their normal, everyday clothes to slip into a Catalan tradition.  There were smiles as the circles swirled around a haphazard pile of pocketbooks

(for totally inappropriate Dane Cook reference, see HERE) and a live band playing traditional music. 

At the end of the dance, the dancers shout BICAO ("Viva!" or "Live!").  And then, just as quickly as it started, the dancers dispersed to everyday life.  It was like a Catalan flash mob.

Then inside the cathedral we go!

 A video recording of the priest during the service.

It was beautiful, but at this point, just another Cathedral.  Most of it was roped off for the service; maybe next week I’ll go and pretend I’m a Catholic!  Not just for the cathedral; I want to experience a Catalan service.

And then, of course, the foodie adventures began.  I found a tiny street shop to pick up some lunch to go, and was heartened by the Catalan women buying rustic breads.

El mos for a sandwich of thinly sliced creamy cheese paired with salted Catlan prosciutto-like ham, and my weakness: an apple tart

I picked up some sustenance to go and headed to Escriba (click your language for a whimsical adventure), a famous old chocolate shop founded in 1906 by Mateu Serra I Capell.  Behind the Art Nouveau façade

lies a bakery that has had lines around the block since it opened.  Despite being collectivized during the Civil War, the bakery returned to the family thanks to devoted employees.  Originally a bakery, Escriba expanded into the fine art of chocolate-making when one of the founders’ children indulged his artistic leanings in an edible medium.  And so Escriba has gained popularity for its confections both baked and chocolatey.

 Pastries in the window

 Delicious looking desserts, some whimsically designed...

... such as the Cheesecake (the one most on the right) and the Pol (in the middle) which is a white chocolate mouse with raspberry and solid white chocolate shavings as siding.

I bought a “Tart with Chocolate of Four Textures” featuring a chocolate smiley face on top and headed off for a picnic in Parc Ciutadella!  But on the way, I was yet again surprised by a new discovery: an international festival by the Arc de Triomf.

 Indian food stall... almost bought a second lunch

There was a stage for performances by international cultural groups, as well as stalls for different types of food and crafts.

And then, as if it couldn’t get any better, there was a science fair in Parc Ciutadella.  NERD OVERLOAD.  Blue steel drums served as experimental work benches for hands-on activities like conducting electricity through your body to listen to music (grab the two handles to connect the circuit and opera erupts from the speakers) or use balloons and static electricity in creative ways.

It was AWESOME.  There were also lectures ranging from astronomy to natural sciences to geology.  If it wasn’t all in Catalan, I would have spent the rest of the day poking around the tents.

Finally, I found a patch of shade and enjoyed my very late lunch.

I did learn one more thing: four textures of chocolate and white pants don’t mix.  I ended up changing in public (remember, this is the land of nude beaches) into a makeshift shirt of my scarf/picnic blanket.  But hey, I got to eat my chocolate and wear it, too.

Spotted: Or rather, Not Spotted: Jaywalking.

Much to my dismay, jaywalking is not a common practice here by locals and is generally a sign that you're a tourist.  Not that this stops me, particularly while running (if there are no cars at 6 AM, I am going to cross the street and there is nothing the glowing little red STOP WALKING man can do about it).  When hanging out with locals, though, I try to keep it in check.  For example, my coworkers were horrified when I ignored a light and crossed, despite the street being 100% empty.  The next time, I made small talk until we got the green light.