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| 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.
