Rest and Unrest

Whew – what a day!  When I got to work this morning, I went to talk to my PI about what work I could do while I waited for the tubes to come in (he finally received confirmation that they’ll be here this week… we hope).  I feel bad bothering him every day for tasks and lessons; he has his own work to do.  I tried to make it clear that if there wasn’t anything to do, I was fine with that, but I’d appreciate knowing so I could leave and explore the city on one of my now-famous adventures (my lab mates grill me every day at lunch about what I’ve been up to).  He still felt bad, and decided that I should take the rest of the day off AND tomorrow.  He said that tomorrow I should go to Montserrat, and even started looking up transportation and things to do there.  After a thank you and some hurried packing-up, I was on the subway home, gleefully plotting my daytime adventures.

My first priority was the Palau de la Musica Catalana, a beautiful Moderniste building that everyone – Naaman, other visitors, every single tourist website ever – raved about as a can’t-miss stop in Barcelona.

 The only ways to get inside are to go to a show and to take one of the guided tours.  The English ones are supposed to fill up quickly, but when I arrived twenty minutes before the next tour (every hour, 10-3 pm, most days during the week) there were still 71 spots left for the next one in English.  Then again, I think they filled most of those spots by the time the tour started.

 We started in the rehearsal room, which mimics the stage in size and shape.  The Orfeo Catalan, a local chorus that was founded in 1891, raised the money (about 6,000 euros) to build the Palau in around 1903.  To show they were serious, they enlisted the help of famed Moderniste architect Lluis Domenech I Montaner.  The concept behind the Palau emerged during the Barcelona Universal Exhibition of 1888; the choir felt that the performance of Catalan music could aid the political movement to promote Catalan nationalism.

Montaner was a fascinating guy.  In addition to being a super duper famous architect (and teacher of architecture) he was also a politician and a botanist.  The politician part is evident in his strong Catalan pride, shown in the use of images of San Jordi (Saint George), the patron saint of Barcelona.  The botanist side is everywhere; flowers in ceramic, tile shards, and painted relief decorate nearly every available surface of the Palau.

 Montaner, like many other Moderniste architects, used a wide variety of nature symbols in his work.  In addition to the flowers, which were likened to a stone garden, he used large amounts of glass in the Palau to turn it into a temple of light and improve the acoustic for higher-pitched instruments.  At the center of the Palau, to nurture his garden, is a gigantic teardrop-shaped, 2,000-glass-piece stained glass mosaic of the sun surrounded by female angels.

 More incredible beauty:

The intermission room

The upper-level walls

Since the rest of the day was free, I decided that this was the perfect opportunity to explore some of the more “drive by” sites that I wanted to visit.  You know, the places that you want to poke around a bit but there’s nothing to really do there.  I headed over to Placa Lesseps to see the Jaume Fuster Library.  Jaume Fuster, a famous author, tried to cultivate a wider readership and appreciation of the Catalan tongue.  While he wrote about a wide range of subjects – detective novels, fiction, mythology, political journalism – he was also distinguished by his activism in cultivating Catalan cultural expression after the Spanish Civil War.  He even formed an association of writers whose works were in Catalan, to further promote the cultural enrichment of the language in the modern day.  Since Catalunya is fiercely protective and proud of its own, he got a library dedicated to him.

 Designed by Josep Llinas i Carmona, the library was built in 2001 and is one of the largest and most modern in the city.  It was guilt on a vacant lot after the demolition of a parking garage and was built to compliment the angular geometry of the large steel-and-plants-and-fountains architecture in the square.

 Casual.

Other than the name and the outside, it's a pretty normal library inside.  The only other claim to fame is its maple panel doors, which are fire resistant for up to an hour.
After leaving the Biblioteca, I walked down through the Gracia district to Placa del Diamant.

This square, which was filled with relaxing Spaniards taking a siesta, is often a hotbed of political protest.  But first a bit of history.  The square was constructed in 1860 on land belonging to jewel tycoon Josep Rossell, hence the name Diamond Square.  But during the less-idyllic times of the Spanish Civil War, the square became the epicenter of political subterfuge and anti-state sentiments.  For the protesters' protection, anti-aircraft refuges were constructed here and in other Gracia squares.

Entrance to an antiaircraft refuge.

 Translation: Antiaircraft refuge 262, Diamond Plaza

 

 The square is also famous for this statue of a woman waving her hands in desperation.  She is the main character of a novel by Xavier Medina Campeny called La Colometa, or The Little Dove.  In the book, which is set during the Spanish Civil War, Diamond Square features prominently.  Given this heritage, it has become a symbolic place of protest.  This is most evident during the August Gracia festival, an annual opportunity for people to air their ideological grievances against the state of Spain and its government.  This afternoon, however, the only sign of unrest was this graffiti on a garage:

 Just a few blocks from Diamond Plaza is another square, this one known for its tranquility and general cuteness.  Placa de la Virreina has a 19th century church dedicated the Sant Joan (whose festival is this weekend.  It's the biggest party in Barcelona all year).

 The plaza was created in 1878, and has a small market on Sundays.  But on your average weekday, it's just pretty and filled with people enjoying the shade and the breeze as they eat their lunches.

 The one little quirk about the square is actually on a small side street along the left side of the church.  This plaque honors the Catalan gymnast Joaquin Blume Carreras, who was born in this neighborhood.  Blume competed in the 1952 summer Olympics and was a favorite for the 1956 summer Olympics... but then Spain boycotted the 1956 Olympics because the USSR was being a big bully in the Hungarian Revolution.  Sadly, Blume died in a plane crash in 1959, so he never got another shot at the gold.

 Since my path was taking me in the direction of my apartment, I decided to enjoy the Gracia district, which has a very low density of tourists given its central location and the many fascinating things in its area (for example, Park Guell is on one end).  It's lovely, has really reasonably priced restaurants, and is perfect for a stroll.
AND THEN I SAW IT.  Could it be? A real churro.  Like the ones that I would have in Chile.  Not quite as just-out-of-the-oil fresh, but crunchy, sugar-coated, and filled with dulce de leche (the most delicious caramel this world has ever seen).  Even though it was the size of my forearm, I knew I must have it.  Heck, that was a bonus.

 You think I was excited? I'll show you excited.

 In a sugar-induced coma, I took a quick siesta.  Hey, not working is really tough!

And then the evening adventures began.  I'd found this exhibit at Palau Virreina this weekend, but had decided to come back today for the free tour (6 pm on Tuesdays).

The girl behind the desk was skeptical and informed me that I was currently the only one and (gasp) it was only offered in Spanish.  I told her that, somehow, I'd manage.  Though a few other museum nerds showed up, the tour guide was equally skeptical of my Spanish abilities and spent the entire tour speaking directly to me.

The exhibit was based on Jean-Luc Godard’s photography in the 1970s and a movie called Numero Dos (Number Two) in which he had symbolically discussed the woman’s role in the home and the man’s role in the factory/at work… and how those lines were being challenged and blurring until the stereotypes were all mixed up.  He represents the man as a factory/work/urbanity and the woman as the home/nature.  By showing the conflict of the two and the interesting juxtapositions that arise in society, he uses it to create a dialogue about modernization, urbanization, and gender roles.  Which sounds really insightful, and some parts of the exhibits were really cool.

A giant mountain with a tiny For Sale sign in front of it.

 A rebel holding a rock, seeming isolated and yet protesting the urbanity behind him.

But then it got weird.  In particular, there was one photo of a woman (some social justice advocate) holding a giant cube made of chopped up latex, lettuce, and tins of makeup.

 Apparently, to challenge our preconceived notions of wealth and Cayman Island banks, the artist then deposited this in an offshore account (I guess in a sort of safety deposit box or something… with all that lettuce, it must have been RANK for the first year or so) and they have a photo of the confirmation on the wall.  But then it got weirder.  We were led into this little viewing room to watch a movie that I can only describe as the most bizarre thing ever.  It involved: four Chinese women with bladed brooms chopping up a mixture of latex, lettuce, and makeup as a revolving floor brought new produce to its doom.  In another room, a woman was squeezed between two upright mattresses (think the Star Wars trash compactor) and her face got red and then she brushed her face off and it turned into makeup… the best part about this was the 1970s sound and special effects.  In another room, a woman moved a heater and an air conditioner and used a spray bottle to moisten a tongue wiggling through the wall… then ignored the revolving wall that brought into the room a morbidly obese black woman who seemed to conduct electricity with her hands and feet.  And then back to more scenes of chopped up lettuce, latex, and makeup.  When the guide suggested we leave, the entire group practically ran out of there.
I guess modern art isn't for the faint of heart.  All I can think about when I think of the exhibit is that tongue.


As I left Palau Virreina, I went from social critique photography to social justice protests on Las Ramblas.

 From what I could tell, the protesters were angry about something done by the banks in general.  One person had a sign that accused La Caixa (a HUGE Spanish bank) of armed robbery.  Not good.

Spotted: A whole lot of bottles popping up all over the city.

This new art installation must have arrived in the last two days since I was here.  This is at one corner of the Cathedral Plaza in the Barri Gotic.

 These boys were working on a side street in the Barri Gotic and were taping large numbers of air-filled plastic bottles together.  They merely said they were making a boat.

Finally, this squished plastic bottle representation (note the similar base to the can, and the similar time of appearance) had a sign encouraging residents of Barcelona to recycle.  I guess they're starting a giant campaign, and it's kicking off this week!