Sagrada and Thanksgiving Dinner

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sagrada Familia 

Man, what a day.  As noted earlier, a very long day, and a day I chose not to bring my cane/seat so I could take pictures without having to hold on to it at the same time.  It was a bad foot day (arthritis), a bad Mystery Knee Ailment day, and a normal day of back pain brought on by standing still a lot.  In addition, we seem to be susceptible to “second night jet lag,” where we can't get to, or stay, asleep.  

OK.  Enough of that.  Very light jazz in the lobby this morning, very nice.  Another great breakfast, and we left at 8:00 instead of 8:30, for an unknown reason, on a day when Abbey could have used that extra half hour of sleep, and made it 3½ hours instead of just 3.  We walked to the bus again; at the end of today, we will have walked two miles just getting to and from the hotel from the bus.

We happened into the front seat, and as we approached Sagrada Familia, it just rose out of the urban landscape and towered over it like Godzilla.  It's a massive place.  We had another half mile to walk from the bus, because of course the bus couldn't get close, and even then it dominated the landscape.  

I'll try to be brief about the worst disaster of the day:  the wireless radios which transmitted the guide's voice to each of us, into an earpiece, didn't work – very gravely and static-y.  So the plan was to get to Sagrada and the guide would get another, different kind of set there.  We did that.  They didn't work any better, at least for many of us.  Remember “You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown?”  Remember what the grownups (always off-screen) sounded like – unintelligible mumbling?  That's what it sounded like to me.  Completely useless.*

So – for the experience I had looked forward to the most (maybe tied with sailing through the Straits of Gibraltar), we mostly had no guide.  If that happens during our passage of the Strait, no big deal, because I know a lot about the Strait of Gibraltar – but I knew, really, nothing about Sagrada, except that it was awesome.  I did my best to stay right next to the guide from the beginning, but that wasn't always possible and I couldn't hear her when she wasn't facing me and it was noisy – did I mention that Sagrada is still under construction and today was Heavy Equipment Jackhammer Day, and that jackhammer was gettin' 'er done?

Enough of that.  The Expiatory Temple of the Sagrada Familia** is a one-of-a-kind experience.  It's about the best example of an artist's expression of his/her artistic vision that you'll ever see outside of an art gallery.  I'm not surprised that many people don't like it (apparently, many people who have paid for it over the years don't like it either).  Like any art, you have to share the artist's vision in some way to truly get excited about it.  If you don't, it can seem strange, unsettling, incomprehensible, boring, or even repulsive.  But if you do – an artist's statement like Sagrada can be transporting.

Abbey and I have seen a lot of European cathedrals and churches and loved nearly all of them.  Sagrada shares some fundamental elements with all the other cathedrals in Europe:  made of stone; vertical, lifting our eyes to heaven; massive outside and airy inside; built over centuries rather than decades.  So:  did I share the artistic vision of the builders of this work of art?

The exterior:  some, but overall not really.  The interior? Oh, man yes yes yes  (sorry you missed it, David)

The exterior reminds me of nothing so much as big loaves of Italian or French bread stood on end.  I'm sorry to be so sacrilegious but that's what comes to mind.  And I don't like the decorations at the tops of the towers and elsewhere – fruit, for some reason that the guide, under extensive questioning, never completely explained.  It doesn't really strike me as a unified whole – ornate sections seem stuck on other less ornate sections – but to be fair, it's not done, and especially the main entrance facade is unfinished; right now it's essentially a big cement wall.  The iconography on the east facade – the Nativity – is the oldest part of the cathedral; it seems old and worn, and overall looks like it would fit in well with LOTR.  I like the west facade – the Crucifixion – but it's about as wildly different, style-wise, from the east facade as it can be; very modern, brutal in places – like the Crucifixion – and not for every taste.  The statue of Peter there –  an apostle I identify with quite a bit – mourning the loss of Jesus, broke my heart.

There's much to say that's positive about the exterior – I really like how it towers over the neighborhood, and the city itself, how massive and solid, yet organic, it looks.  That's not an easy combination.  We ended the official part of the day today at a 12th floor hotel bar which featured extensive floor-to-ceiling windows and offered, from close to the edge of the city, a panoramic view, and there was Sagrada, in the distance, rising up*** out of a really beautiful city in which nearly all the buildings around the center are the same height, and are dwarfed by the cathedral.  Various sources describe it as Neo-Gothic and Catalan Modernist and Art Nouveau**** and Spanish Late Gothic.  That's fine if you're into that; the Sagrada is, however, it's own thing entirely.

Also, the sheer audacity of the design – whether you like it our not – leads you to forget about the French bread almost immediately – it is, on its own, an impressive sight.  You can't stop looking at it.

OK – let's walk inside.

The first thing you notice when you walk in is that, unlike the exterior, the interior is unified – in style, form and vision.  The second thing you notice is that you feel like you're swimming – not through water, but through light.  It's hard to tell where the light comes from, or how it does what it does, but it is a palpable element inside the space which, regardless of the wild variety of the exterior design, is a clearly unified space.

The third thing you notice is that all this goes together to create a forest.  The columns – 52, one for each weekly mass in a year – are shaped like stately trees, and the supporting arches and cross braces resemble – on purpose – giant limbs and branches.  The trees entangle themselves into a forest, and you are, somehow, walking in its shade and in its light.

And if that's not enough, the stained glass which occupies the whole upper half of the east wall is shades of blue in abstract designs, and opposite that is the west wall, in which the stained glass is all reds and yellows.  So – sunrise and morning light in the east, and sunset and dusk in the west.

Inside also is a statue of St. George, like the one we saw yesterday at Montserrat, by the same sculptor, looming over what will be the main entrance in a way that no other cathedral statue ever has.

This is the most beautiful cathedral interior I have ever been in.*****  

Let me say a little, briefly, about the Sagrada's history and the men who are mostly responsible for it.  It was begun in 1881 (so says our guide) or 1882 (so says Wikipedia) and is currently the second-most-visited church in Europe (after St. Peter's in Rome).  It was conceived by a priest and a bookseller, managed by a private association, and was financed – as it has been throughout its history up to the present – by private donations and admission fees.  Like many European cathedrals, construction waxed and waned depending on revenue.  Most recently, construction halted during COVID, as entrance fees – rather expensive – dried up.

Turns out the original plans (for a pretty normal church) were approved in 1881 and the foundation stone was laid in 1882.  Among the celebrants at the stone-laying was Antoni Gaudi, a 32 year old just-graduated architecture student who had no major works to his name.  A year later, after a disagreement between the original architect and the association, Gaudi became the Sagrada's chief architect, and he spent the remaining forty three years of his life working on the project, the last fifteen of which were devoted exclusively to the Sagrada.  Gaudi is said to have remarked, “My client is not in a hurry.”  For the most part, the artistic vision of the Sagrada is Gaudi's.

I could go on and on about Gaudi, or I could say:  look him up.  He has made a significant impression on Barcelona, and many of his other projects – which are as outrageous and brilliant as the Sagrada - are justly famous.  Try these – they're worth a look.  

The Sagrada was supposed to be finished next year, but because of the COVID delays, the completion date is now around 2035.  However, next year, Barcelona will celebrate the completion of the main spire and, at the same time, the 100th anniversary of Gaudi's death.  Construction preparations are already being started for that festival. 

Both the east and the west facades were designed by Gaudi, but only the east was completed in his lifetime.  The west facade was executed by sculptor Josep Maria Subirachs, who is also responsible for the St. George statue inside.

St. Peter

[Abbey: Gary did an awesome job describing the experience of being inside. It really felt like that for me, and there was also a very strong sense of joy as well.]

I got to hear most of what the guide said because I practically stepped on her toes chasing her around. She mentioned the history, that it initially was to be built as a relatively small church for the neighborhood, and that she had lived in the area for many years. I asked what the neighborhood thought of it now. She said there was a lot of disgruntlement about its popularity (14,000-16,000 visitors/day) because all the local grocery stores moved out and souvenir shops took over.

Sagrada was crazy crowded and noisy, and it was a kind of relief to gather up and begin hiking back to the bus.  Next was a cooking class!  We got on the bus, drove a little, got off and walked another half mile until we were in a narrow stone street like so many in Barcelona; a block and a half later we stopped in front of a narrow storefront, and a genial guy in a chef's outfit was waiting for us, and invited us in.  The street was on an incline, so the stone doorway of the shop was not perfectly aligned with the stone gutter below it, so he had a little plastic step for us to use to get in.

The school was a single classroom, very narrow, with a very long (long enough to seat the 24 of us) table filling the front half, and a cooking island about the same size in the rear half.  The island had 24 high stool/chairs around three sides; the chef and his assistant worked on the fourth (long) side.  We sat down, he asked for volunteers, served everyone wine, beer, water or soda, and everyone got to work.  Neither Abbey nor I volunteered because we just could not stay on our feet any longer.

During the next hour or so, he and his seven or eight (I've forgotten) volunteers prepared and coo

ked a multi-course meal with fresh ingredients.  I don't think any of us had ever come across any of the dishes they made (except the chocolate mousse, of course).  David, the chef, kept up a constant and interesting commentary and we made comments of our own, and eventually, everything was ready.  We adjourned to the table, sat, and enjoyed a really unique and novel meal, accompanied by wine and/or water.  There was plenty for all; much of the meal had to be made in advance, because it had to cool or set for a time, but at least some of everything we ate was made at that table.

It was fun, to a great extent because the chef was informative, personable and interesting.  He never once measured anything.  He managed to oversee three or four different simultaneous procedures carried out at any give time by volunteers and pairs of volunteers, work on pieces of recipes himself, and continue talking all the time.  His assistant, a young woman named Margaret, magically appeared with just the right tool or ingredient at just the right time.

The food was great – it wasn't all to my taste but I could tell that each was well-made, rich, and tasty.  There was a little more salt in some dishes than I cared for, but that was a matter of taste.

David handed out complete recipes for each of the dishes that were made; I'll save you the complete rundown, but here's the list of dishes:

• “Shredded” Cabbage from Cerdanya – cabbage, garlic, pancetta (salt cured pork belly) or bacon, olive oil, salt and pepper
• Spinach Fritters – spinach, butter, water, salt/pepper, flour, eggs olive oil
• Confited Cod with Beans “Gazpacho” and Pesto – cod, garlic, bay leaves, rosemary, olive oil, white beans, Balsamic vinegar, maybe some thyme
• Potato Gratin with Blood Sausage and Brie Cheese – blood sausage, brie, Mona Lisa potatoes (?), olive oil, heavy cream, salt and white pepper
• Meat Cannelloni – beef, pork loin (“pig's loin”), chicken, bacon, pork pate, onion, brandy or cognac, milk, dry bread, olive oil, salt, pepper, nutmeg, 20 plates of cannelloni
• Chocolate Mousse – dark chocolate (65%), butter, eggs, sugar, salt
• White Chocolate Rocks with Cereals and Fried Peanuts – white chocolate, fried peanuts, cornflakes

By the way, the recipes do have measures of ingredients.

And now that I think about it, the Meat Cannelloni must have been what we had yesterday at lunch, after Montserrat.  It really was pate, just not goose liver pate.  As for the bacon:  the bacon we have encountered in Catalonia is much more like Canadian bacon – thicker and tougher than we're used to.

Anyway, it was a long, merry, satisfying Thanksgiving dinner.  There was even one of our number with a birthday, and we sang to her, I think, twice.  A good time was had by all.

But all too soon it was time to go, as Phil Ochs has said, and we trouped out of the storefront onto the plastic step, and walked back to the bus.  There was the opportunity here to go back to the hotel, which would have been our choice, but neither Abbey nor I have ever been in a taxi or an Uber (I know, I know...), and we didn't want to start in a strange city where we didn't speak the language or hold any currency.  So we continued on with the group to a 12th floor bar in a junior skyscraper which took up about half the floor, and featured floor-to-ceiling windows along three of the four walls.  One side looked out over central Barcelona, and the Mediterranean toward the side, and it was a sight to see.  There was Sagrada, rising up like the mother of all urban architecture, keeping watch over her blocks and blocks of progeny.  That's probably how I'll remember Barcelona.

We had coupons for a drink apiece; Abbey got a limonada, lay down on the banquette, and took a nap.  I was too wiped to lay down, or to choose a drink.  I should have made the effort and chosen kava, because it was my only opportunity to try it.  I knew nothing about it; reading about it afterwards, it seems to be a narcotic, but is available at bars and restaurants.  We may never know.

Then back to the hotel on the bus – or, more accurately, back to a spot about a half-mile walk from the hotel.  We were in the front again, and we asked about the Picasso Museum, which was not far from the hotel.  The guide said that Thursday (today) was a free day at the museum, which was good news, but she had it on good authority that there were no tickets left; in fact, it was sold out until Tuesday.  Someone else on the bus said they had heard that you just have to stand in line and they'll let you in when there's room.  So we walked back by way of the museum, found it after a few false starts (it is in the maze of narrow sparkly-lit streets we had found the first night), waited on line for about five minutes, and then got in.  False starts continued when we couldn't find the museum itself, after we had gotten our tickets and gained admittance.  It's not inside a building, per se, but inhabits a collection of rooms, corridors, arches, atria, and stairways that are all part of the medieval neighborhood we were in.

We finally found the museum rooms, and a little later found a map of it (everyone else used the QR

code).  Abbey and I thought it was pretty great, but in case you may not be interested in modern art, and because I'll be using pictures pretty heavily, I think I'll compose this part right in the blog format.  It's a separate post in this blog called "What I Learned at the Picasso Museum in Barcelona."

Then we went back to the hotel and didn't have dinner, because we were still full.  I worked on this journal and Abbey did some drawings from the day's pictures, something she's been doing every day.  Then we went to bed.  Goodnight!

* - As faithful readers of this journal know, on trips (or anywhere, for that matter) I often can't help doing the kinds of behavioral analysis that were my daily fare for so long.  Fact:  when Abbey brought up the problems with the second set of speakers, she asked the group, “Is anyone else having trouble?” She was met with a resounding “No!”  Yet as the tour progressed, more and more in the group took the earphones out and let them hang, until maybe half had given up on the by the end.  This is just one example of how travelers in our last three relatively small group tours seem to be complaint-resistant; every story about a terrible thing ends with laughter and “Oh well, that's the way it is,” and they move on.  There's a facade there that life in their particular cultural environment – upper-middle-class suburbia, business and military backgrounds – seems to require, even to the point of dishonesty.  Not that I think everyone should complain, but reactions seem consistently to avoid the step where you define the problem.  Thoughts?

** - “Expiatory temple” means a church “intended from the outset to be built entirely through donations, as an act of faith and penance.”  By the way, speaking of terminology, Sagrada is not nor ever has been a cathedral, which is defined as a church where the local Bishop presides.  The cathedral in Barcelona is across from our hotel, much smaller, and looks a lot like a standard Gothic cathedral.

*** - Sagrada Familia became the tallest church building in the world just last month, when construction on the main tower reached 161.53 meters.

**** - It's definitely built by elves, and definitely not built by dwarves.

***** - I'm not sure how I feel about Parachuting Jesus over the altar, but artist's vision, and so forth.