Big Church, Good Eats, Clowns (Yikes)

Partial ceiling, Sagrada Familia

Up early enough (I thought) to avoid the long lines at Sagrada Familia, the cathedral Gaudi considered his master work--I was so wrong. In this case, it pays to buy ahead online. The line to buy tickets took an hour and a half. I didn't have breakfast, so a pear brought from my daughter’s tree in California saved me, along with some almonds. Inside, the wait was worth it ... extraordinary, and very, very special. 

The detail! Plenty of religious references, especially for a lapsed Catholic like me, truly inspired soaring spaces, and plenty of the ornate detail for which Gaudi is known. 

As in medieval times, the cathedral is a work in progress and is not expected to be finished for many years. It was begun in 1882 under another architect, and taken over by Gaudi in 1883. After his death in 1926, his vision has been carried out by others. It’s built entirely from contributions (“made by the people and mirrored in them”, as Gaudi said), and is expected to be finished some time in the first third of the 21st century.

Later, I came back to the area of my hostel—the neighborhood known as Eixample (after one metro misdirection--wrong train) and met my friend Patti and her bro for the best tapas lunch ever,  at Catalana (236 Mallorca Street). The joint was packed, so we had a 15-minute wait, but so worth it. We ordered a bunch of tapas, and the favorite was a fried egg mixed into crispy potatoes and carrots (the veges were deep fried); it was spectacular.  

After a reluctant good-bye, I returned to the Casa Batllo and bought a ring I couldn’t get out of my mind, then took the metro to la Bouquerilla market in Cuitat Vella, the old Gothic quarter—I scored some bread right out of the oven and a little salty Serrano ham. That and some figs came in handy later when I picked up the car at 5:15. Still jet-lagged, I had the urge to eat at the most peculiar times.

I pulled over to hook up the GPS system I had bought for this trip and circled the area to find my hotel, then parked across the street to load my goods. I was not there more that 15 minutes, but I violated some law or other during my brief driving sojourn in Barcelona--I discovered a notice on my windscreen the next morning in Figueres. Whoops. The rental car company, Europcar (highly recommended, easy to deal with) kept my credit card number in case of any misdemeanors (with a...gulp...charge of 60 Euros for a ticket plus the cost of the ticket). I hope it was just a warning, but I couldn’t find someone who could tell me what the notice was about, other than I was required to report to the Bureau of Transportation in Barcelona. Not going to happen.

After an uneventful hour-and-a-half drive on Spain’s superb toll roads, I arrived in Figuères in the evening. The  GPS was accurate, and a real blessing navigating the unfamiliar roads. The voice I chose—a South African radio personality named Beauty—was amusing (“Toll road! Oh, why do things have to cost things!”). It took me a while to find Hotel Plaza Inn (14 Pujada del Castell), as it was in the middle of an old town with streets so narrow they looked more like alleys in the dark.

Clowns are not my favorite thing, and to be greeted by a life-size plaster one in the doorway was a little disconcerting--however, I recognize that the hotel wanted to distinguish itself in some way. The peculiar mismatched artwork everywhere—a Tahitian scene next to a Parisian flower shop painting--was obviously purchased from the Spanish equivalent of garage sales, but it was amusing rather than off-putting. The room was fine and somewhat noisy, facing the street --plenty of traffic, with an active construction site across the way. Parking, though free for the night, was a couple of blocks away. The most disconcerting thing, however, was when I stepped out onto my balcony: on the balcony to my left was a human-sized blow-up rabbit, and to my right, another plaster clown. And there I was, stuck in the middle. I hoped I didn’t fit in.