Catalunya - Parc Guell

Joaquim and I left for Barcelona on the noon train, a lovely 70 minute ride alongside the blue Mediterranean, near to empty train that stopped at the villages and cities (more than 100,000 people). He chose the destination: Park Guell, named after the man who was genius enough to ask Gaudi to design a park to showcase an expensive urban development. The development did not materialize and the park was eventually gifted to the city. We walked all afternooon looking at the architectural genius. I spent my time switching between views of the overall plan and the exquisite detail of the fine work evident everywhere, running my hands along the tiles, finding benches and chairs at the bases of pillars or on small balconies of earth that projected out from the walk up to the Three Crosses. The slope must rise one foot for every three feet, and even though the temperature was mild, a mere 11 degrees, I began to peel off of scarves, then the sweater and finally my coat.

The pinnacle requires that last 25 or so steps to be taken up a tall column. I could only get the last 19 steps out of myself, for the bannister ended and I didn´t have the courage to free myself from the rail for the last 7 steps were so tiny that when I looked down, I could see the drop right by my feet.

I retraced myself to the bottom of the steps, then braced myself for another attempt. When the total walk to the top takes so much energy, there was no way I was not going to complete the last few steps. Some calming of my heart worked and I joined the crowded space at the top.

One of the many hawkers of souvenirs had set up his umbrella pinned with Gaudiesque earrings for sale at the bottom of the stairs. A musician sat there with 2 dirgeridoos and a set of percussive intruements that he worked with his hands and feet. Joaquim and I could hear the sonorous sounds of the didjeridoos all of the way back down the mountain side to the main plaza. A clean sweep of the security guards had scattered all 40 multitutde of illegal souvenir sellers we had passed among at Gaudi´s famous bench there, and we met them as singles now, all along the trails. One enterprising bubble maker would dip into glycerine and soap, a string that he held between two three foot sticks. I had seen him first beside the Catalunian Gaudi bench, but later on a mound in the forested part of the park. His pan of soap had slipped, spilling small white bubbles down the mound he was standing on, making that the end of commercial enterprise for him for the day for him.

Two other musical groups were taking advantage of the high ceiling domes that are held up by leaning columns, leaning in to the centre of the dome for structural strength. One space had been meant for a large outdoor market and two drummers were playing off of each other. The other space was a grotto like cavern, not one with a lot of depth, but the space was elliptical and showcased three African musicians, whose costuming made them seem like a jewelled in the centre of Gaudi´s architectural genius.

Joaquim´s sister let him in on the secret of the fast way the park: Bus 24, which goes uphill all of the way. The metro option is to take an entrance that requires so many steps that a person is tired before they get to the park, so many steps that along the way there are outdoor escalators to help the weary with the climb uphill. Bus 24 is the one we took to the park and away, back to Plaza Catalunya where we enjoyed a late lunch hour at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Joaquim had his eye on this place earlier in the day, but when we were one-half a block away what seemed like a tour group were gathered outside of the building and by the time we had arrived there the line-up was similar to the line-up that happens at D-Dutchman Dairy when non-locals alight.