I tried to see it all. It is, after all, the city where Gaudí left his mark everywhere. And today, I have ridden the Metro several times. Thank goodness I bought a ticket for three days because I've practically lived on the train. I've mastered the Metro, learned that L4 yellow line returns me back to my hotel. I also learned that not all trains connect to others. Once I kept looking for the green line and kept landing up on the street...
The only little, tiny moment(s) of panic happened yesterday. When you leave a train, there are usually two exits, each marked with the name of the street at the top of the steps. When I got off the train at my Bogatell Metro stop, I couldn't remember the street name, so I turned the wrong way. When I stepped onto the sidewalk at the top of the steps, there was a bridge that didn't belong there, a street that had a tapas cafe I'd never seen before and I froze a little. Since I'd been told not to look at a map while walking down the street because it screams tourist, I've tried to be casual about it. This time, I was in full-blown panic mode because nothing looked familiar. I found a doorway, yanked it out, furtively looked around to make sure nobody was lurking ready to grab my purse and looked at the streets. It didn't help one bit. So, I started walking. It couldn't be far, I knew that and told my stomach to settle down. It didn't listen. After three wrong streets, I found one I recognized so I was sure I'd found my hotel. Only it wasn't on the corner where it belonged. I'd turned the wrong way. When I twisted around and headed the other way, I saw it and nearly ran the length of the block. How silly, right? I know the name of the street now and never will make that mistake again.
PEOPLE WATCHING: I saw two scenes to relate; one yesterday and one today.
Yesterday, I saw a man walk toward the mouth of Las Ramblas as I sat with a cup of coffee while waiting for my friend Janet for our day at Monterserrat. He had a fist full of burning incense gripped in his hand. The smoke whirled around his head, which was a matted gob of twisted strands in dreadlocks shooting in all directions. He was chanting as he walked by me and swinging his other arm around his head as if to ward off evil spirits before walking beneath the canopy of trees. I shook my head and caught other patron's eyes in shared astonishment.
Today, as I sat inside a pizzeria before visiting La Familia Sagrada, I watched a little girl about four being pulled along by her mother as she struggled to guide the bent straw in her fruit juice into her mouth. Bounce, bounce, bam! She almost had her little lips around the end of it when it flipped downward and she lost it again as her mother pulled her forward, totally unaware of the party in her child's head. It was hard to eat pizza and laugh at the same time, but I was starving and managed to eat most of it.
LA SAGRADA FAMILIA, CASA MILÁ and PARK GÜELL. My tickets sat on my mobile phone (they don't say cell phone here in Spain and I'm converted I think) and I was ready for my day. The only problem (I thought) was the times. 10:00 at Casa Milá meant I was in the Metro by 8:30 in case I got lost. But, that was okay because I found a nice cafe and ordered myself a café con leche right in front so I could sit and gaze at the beautiful facade of this marvelous building. (It is near Casa Botlló where I visited a few days ago).
I mention this because inside Casa Milá, there is a replica of the before-building and the after-building in white of the Casa Botlló after Gaudí finished it. Wow. This is the colored version too.
While I was drinking my coffee, my eyes followed several people (I have too much curiosity for my own good sometimes). By the way, I just noticed the little book I write in has the words, "There's no place like home" on the front. I looked down at it and felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. She was right...there's no place like home. But I digress...
My neck hurt as I craned it upward to see the facade and curious artwork of the twisting, wrought iron balconies. My first glimpse of the lobby area inside the building beautiful and very art nouveau, decor that I have always liked. The colors, design, shapes and feeling of warmth grabbed at me. This is a building that was built between 1907 and 1910, and Gaudí's last design for a private residence. The roof terrace was astounding, but when I walked through the apartment built for the owners in that day and age, I was taken back in time...and again --- to art nouveau. The floor, ceiling and walls were incredible. I could move right in. Each room was beautiful as well as utile. To think that this residence and building was built about the same time as my ancestors were leaving Spain because they were too poor to feed their families just didn't seem to mesh with the history here.
When I walked out of the beautiful building, I took part of it with me in my head. And then I had 3 and a half hours before I could get into the Sagrada Familia, a catholic basilica that has always been magical to me when I've seen photos. What to do in the interim? I started walking toward the cathedral where Javier and Conchita had taken me in the Barrio Gótico on Tuesday night. I found the square and all the old, old buildings. And a market filled the square with tables overflowing with used items, books, jewelry and other stuff. But what I wanted to do was find a bench to sit down and gaze up at the cathedral across the square. So that's exactly what I did until I had to find another Metro and get to the basilica for my 2:30 pm tour.
The outside walls include statues and a door made out of metal that is covered in leaves. Photos can't tell the story. Once I walked in the large doors, I was transformed with the stained glass windows that were so different from any I'd seen before. The sun was shining into each colored glass to take one's breath away. The center of the top of the cross-shaped structure included a gigantic chandelier that wasn't a chandelier but the nave and... I wondered if others in the huge open church were as dumbfounded as I was. Were their eyes glazing over? Their hearts thumping in their chests like mine was? I found a bench along the wall to watch others as I tried to see their feelings on their faces. And I saw it on many of them... that look that says, unbelievable, awesome, beautiful, reverent and much more. I don't think I'll ever be quite the same person as I was when I walked in that door. Guess you have to see it to believe it.
The third ticket was reserved at 5:30 pm and it was 3:15 when I left the basilica. Another two Metro rides and I rounded the corner as I followed directions which would lead me to the Park Güell. I wanted to go there because there are so many sculptures that Gaudí left his imprint on. The photos have lured me for years. When I rounded the corner, I saw the ground rise above me like a mountain and I groaned aloud. I'd walked so far already, but up I went. After about six blocks upward, I was glad to see a series of escalators (seven of them) and then stair steps (a million of them). At the top, my heart was beating hard and I was out of breath. I saw down and joined a few others in my same predicament. A boy was selling iced water in bottles for one euro. I snapped it up immediately.
And then we all started following the cement walkways. Up, around, up again until I realized I was going somewhere that wasn't the park at all. I found signs that led me in another directions and I followed it for a long way and overlooked the tops of two obviously-Gaudí designed buildings. When I saw the entrance gate, I sagged with relief and found a bench to sit on in the shade. I was two hours early and they wouldn't let me in until my allotted time. I waited one hour there in the shade and watched people go by, listened to the different languages and just breathed. I couldn't remember when I was this tired and suddenly I felt myself falling. I'd fallen asleep and nearly slipped off the bench. What was I doing? With a big sigh and a final decision, I got up and decided to walk out again, only there must be a better way. I hated missing the park, but my body was screaming. I wanted to walk down, not up to the pinnacle above where I'd entered, so I found another street and walked and walked and walked some more. When I saw the Metro sign, I walked some more.
The best part of my day, I must admit, was getting back to my hotel and putting my feet up to rest them on my bed. I looked at the activity history on my phone. I'd walked 8.6 miles. No wonder I was swamped.
My day is over, my bags are packed, my taxi is ordered for morning and I will be on my way back home early Friday morning. And I am ready... except that I will miss all the wonderful people I'm leaving behind...
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