7-4 A Mountaintop Experience

Location: Plaça España (Train Station)

Listening to: VuVox – Headliner (Already finished Standing Room Only)

Well, I'm sorry this is turning into a weekly blog. I'll make it my goal to post another on Thursday. Deal?

Really, this has been a pretty relaxed week. I haven't done too much other than watch World Cup games. I know I'm in Catalonia, but it still blows me away just how little the population cares about the championship the simply call the “Mundial” (mundo means “world”). There were at least as many Portugese (or anti-Spanish) fans in the bar as Spanish. Apparently my accent isn't giving me away to obviously as an American, because the waitress brought me the menu in Catalan (and only Catalan). I just wanted to have a beer, but they reserve the only tables where you can actually see the TV for customers who buy something else. We figured the names couldn't be that far off from Spanish, so I ordered some tapas that I thought would be the incredible little sautèed mushrooms they make here. As you can see, they were not. It was some kind of fried squid/octopus/calamari thing which I really didn't mind until I realized they hadn't been de-terded. Spain won, and they play later today – hopefully I can make it back for the game.

Speaking of football, holy Holland! I peeked into a bar during the game (I was looking for a store to recharge my phone), and when I saw the score was 2-1 I just assumed Brazil was winning. I guess I should have brought my glasses to Europe.

Sadly, I'll probably miss the Germany game today. I'm headed to Montserrat, an important pilgrimage site in the old counter-reformational Spanish church. It was one of two places that I was told I absolutely had to see while in the Barcelona area (the other being the Sagrada Familia, stay tuned). It's supposed to be absolutely beautiful, and I'm going to ride up on a cable car so I can take pictures of the mountainside. I'm really excited to finally be going here – I've told myself I'll go mañana for a couple of weeks. I'll give you a report on Thursday.

Back to the other thing I “had to see” - Gaudi's still unfinished final work, the Sagrada Familia. If you've never seen it and you're ever in the area, you absolutely have to go, and make sure you take either a guided tour or rent the audioguide. It's far too complex to fully appreciate on your own. This is the second work by Gaudi that I've really experienced here in Barcelona, and I've been amazed both times. The complexity and explosive joy of the Nativity façade, the conviction and austerity of the Passion façade, the columns and ceiling structure he literally invented for this building, the acoustic design from the floor to the choir loft, the height of the towers themselves, everything was constructed to make this space the most worshipful environment possible. I have to admit, I was very skeptical about this “church” when I first saw it. It seemed like a big joke, an application of almost sacriligious and extravogant modernism in a sacred form. I could not have been more wrong. Gaudi's devotion to this project reminded me vividly of Bach's devotion to his sacred compositions. They were each concerned first and foremost with their God's opinion of these personal offerings, and second with the opinions of their parishioners or even their patrons. They had established themselves as timeless masters of what they did, and no longer needed to impress anyone. This (at least partial) liberation from the expectations of their peers is plainly evident in both of their works, and I feel especially privileged to have witnessed and in some small way participated in them.

I rented the audioguide, walked the tour, and decided to shell out the extra €2.50 to take the lift to the top of the towers (they don't let you walk up, but you have to walk down). It was a clear day and I had heard the view was spectular. I took a video from inside the lift of my ride up, and my camera literally died right before the doors opened. I don't have a single picture from the top – there's €2.50 well spent. There will eventually be 18 towers – one for each of the 12 disciples, 4 evangelists (I guess Matthew gets two?), one for the virgin and one for Jesus. Some of the disciples' towers are connected, which probably made the lift worth it anyway. Interestingly, the height of the tallest tower (Jesus' tower, yet to be constructed) is just under the height of Montjuic – according to Gaudi, man should never seek to create something more impressive than the creation around him. Evidently he read Genesis. They estimated on the audioguide that the project would be completed within 20 years. I'm not sure that's possible, but I hope it happens – I will make every effort to come and see it if I'm still walking when it's finished.

---(Next Day)

Location: Roser's living room

Listening to: The news on the TV (in Catalan)

Well, Montserrat didn't dissapoint. I hope the pictures can give you some idea of this place, but I know they can't give you the same impression as being there. I chose not to take any pictures inside the church this time. It's generally understood by most of the Europeans I've talked to that you aren't supposed to, and in this one they actually had signs posted, so I decided to respect the rules (for once). It's been interesting, as a Lutheran, to live in what used to be an epicenter for Counter-reformational Catholicism, and this has never been so obvious as on Montserrat. The sheer scope and location of the complex blows your mind – how could they have possibly brought all that stuff up there? The church is massive and has a dark appearance even though there's actually quite a bit of light because the walls and other surfaces are mostly very dark woods or marbles accented with gold or other bright metals. There are small chapels dedicated to a number of saints, including Clemente, Benedict, Peter, the Virgin of Montserrat, and one I wasn't expecting – St. Jordi. This was a moving space to witness.

It's closed to the main room by a glass wall and glass doors, but on the front of these doors is a prayer, beautifully carved and branded in wood. The prayer, to sum it up, is for peace among the people of Catalonia in hindsight of the Spanish Civil War. If you haven't read or learned much about the war, it was a horrible time for religious (viz. Catholic) people and institutions. The Church supported Franco, and those who opposed fascism opposed religion by association. In Orwell's Homage to Catalona, he quite bluntly describes the churches he encountered as a soldier as converted latrines. Hemingway recounts a story of a village intending to drive their priest off the edge of a cliff with the rest of the fascist sympathizers, but becoming impatient and deciding to storm the building armed with pitchforks instead in For Whom the Bell Tolls. The Sagrada Familia, which you just read about, was burned – none of Gaudi's written plans (only plaster models and a few sketches) for the building survived. Having learned most of the little I know about the war in the last couple of weeks, this little chapel was especially potent. St. Jordi (St. George, a la St. George and the Dragon) is in some ways a patron saint of faithful diligence in the face of adversity; he was martyred for refusing to convert from Christianity in a story much like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the Bible without the happy ending. The chapel receives a little light from the main room, but other than that it's only lit by a few candles next to the altar – it's a quiet, contemplative place. The main feature of the room is an over-sized human cast of a man I'm guessing by the hands is supposed to be Christ.

I didn't find out until I was leaving that there were audioguides available, and I really wish I would have rented one. There were so many rooms, relics, sculptures, paintings – I don't think I understood the significance of this site nearly as well as I would have with a little help. There was also, of course, the shrine to the Virgin of Montserrat (La Moroneta). I don't know a lot about this sculpture, but according to legend it was carved by St. Luke, transported to Spain for some reason, and found in the Santa Cova (sacred cave or grotto) above the monestary. The last part's true – the sculpture was found up there – but historians date its creation to around the 12^th century. It's called La Moroneta because it's a “black virgin”; the varnish has changed its color with time and she's now a beautiful ebony color. I guess I feel a bit like I squandered my visit to this mountain by a lack of education, but in hindsight if I had stayed in the church any longer I wouldn't have made it to the top in time, and I'm extremely glad I did. I think the pictures can tell the story better than I can, except to say that the hike to the top wasn't short. I'd estimate it took us 35 minutes of climbing or so, after taking the cable car up to the chapel level and the funicular lift another few hundred meters up. I don't know how high the top was, but it really felt like we were on top of the Mediterranean world. I was as high as camp Jordi, but I went a different direction so I didn't actually make it over there.  I also met some new friends from America, Brazil, England, and Germany who are trying to convince me to come to Pamplona for the running of the bulls later this week.  Not sure how mom will feel about that one :)

I'm missing July 4^th for the second time in my life today – in 2004, I was in France. I guess I should figure out a way to celebrate.  I have so many fun memories of this holiday – from shooting bottle rockets out of shotguns with Chris to roman candle baseball in Seward and plenty of other fun ones in between. Happy Independance Day to everyone back home, please stay safe.