In Barcelona
I have now been in Barcelona over 2 full days. Due to the different size outlet plug, I haven´t been able to use my wireless, and so haven´t sent out my updates until now. It´s really too bad because new experiences are replacing old ones so fast that I have to blog every day if I don´t want to forget too many key moments.
The cheap hotel I call home here is called Hostal Levante. It has no air conditioning, despite assurances to the contrary by the Rough Guide to Barcelona. However, it certainly has all the local charm one can stand (complete with late-night cello music from the apartment across the street, no more than ten feet away). It´s located in the heart of the Gothic Quarter, a gigantic maze of narrow pedestrian streets that formed the medieval city of Barcelona. According to the hotel owners, Picasso used to frequent the hotel, which was a brothel in his time. They don´t mention at what point in the artist´s life these visits occurred, so we´re left guessing whether his blue period was caused or cured by them.
The Gothic quarter is appropriately named, because it has many Goths and alternative-looking people of all types. In fact, it is just plain full of people, except between the hours of 6 and 10 in the morning, when the din outside the hostel room window is a few decibels lower. Plaintive signs hung out of some windows: ¨We love you but can we please get some sleep?¨ seem to have about as much protective effect as the gargoyles on the nearby ancient cathedrals had against the various invaders who have ruled this land for most of its known history. In fact, many locals view the tourist hordes as just another one of these invasions. Thankfully, they have traded in the boiling oil for more civilized, though perhaps less effective, means of resistance.
On a political note (of which this blog will have its fair share), I wanted to relate a comment made to me by Richard, a painter from San Diego who married a Catalan woman and opened an art gallery with her in the Gothic quarter. He said it was quite amazing how politically vibrant he feels Barcelona is compared to the United States. He says there are demonstrations and protests all the time -- and much of the time, the protesters win. Even more contrasting is the attitude of the police. They stand by peacefully as student protesters burn benches in the street, and labor protesters paint over entire facades of banks with whitewash and graffiti. They wait until the protesters are done, and then silently clean up afterwards. I guess the costs of this sort of free speech are just built into the city budget, the way US major cities build in funds for extra police, tear gas and riot gear. I think the Spanish way is cheaper.
I have just finished reading Orwell´s Homage to Catalonia, which makes a point of noting that Barcelonians have always been on the more radical side of the already left-leaning Spanish populace. During the Spanish Civil War it was the heart of resistance against Franco and fascism, as well as against the Soviet domination of the resistance movement. The free and egalitarian spirit of Barcelona described in the book made me fall in love with it before I even arrived. It seemed to not only represent two core values, but also be able to combine them in a much better way than a lot of cynics claim is possible.
But I must return to the story. I simply wanted to emphasize that Barcelona is in a way the perfect city in Europe for me to visit first. Of course it also has all the trappings of a great tourist town: museums, restaurants, beaches. The Picasso museum was terrific: an entire museum filled by a single painter´s work, yet it truly felt like it contained the works of a hundred because, in addition to his own various styles, Picasso often adopted or imitated styles of other artists. There were paintings in the style of Monet, Velasquez, Rembrandt, Goya, and dozens of other painters whom I couldn´t name, all drawn by Picasso. Some of these paintings were quite a revelation to me, who in his heart of hearts always suspected that impressionists couldn´t draw realistic art to save their lives.
I am not a big art conosseur and am boorishly content with that state of affairs, so the Picasso museum was the only one I´ve visited here. Of the main architectural sites I have seen the bare minimum. La Sagrada Familia, the massive unfinished church designed by Gaudi was impressive, but didn´t leave me with any meaningful insights. I decided not to contribute 3 euros to the construction effort, which are scheduled to be complete in 50 years because I had a tough time figuring out the astronomical sum it would have become by the year 2054 through the wonders of compound interest and inflation. I decided a better approach would be to invest the money and just buy the cathedral outright when the value of my investment appreciated enough. Unfortunately my dreams of grandeur went up in smoke soon afterwards, when I spent the 3 euros on a gelato ice cream cone.
I have more to say on Barcelona, but the effect of the sparkling Catalan cava wine has worn off, and with it, my inspiration. Tomorrow is the day to deal the final deadly blow to jetlag by getting up at the crack of dawn, renting a car, and heading for the mountains. I will write more on Barcelona later.
PS. Pictures are coming soon. Stay tuned!
The cheap hotel I call home here is called Hostal Levante. It has no air conditioning, despite assurances to the contrary by the Rough Guide to Barcelona. However, it certainly has all the local charm one can stand (complete with late-night cello music from the apartment across the street, no more than ten feet away). It´s located in the heart of the Gothic Quarter, a gigantic maze of narrow pedestrian streets that formed the medieval city of Barcelona. According to the hotel owners, Picasso used to frequent the hotel, which was a brothel in his time. They don´t mention at what point in the artist´s life these visits occurred, so we´re left guessing whether his blue period was caused or cured by them.
The Gothic quarter is appropriately named, because it has many Goths and alternative-looking people of all types. In fact, it is just plain full of people, except between the hours of 6 and 10 in the morning, when the din outside the hostel room window is a few decibels lower. Plaintive signs hung out of some windows: ¨We love you but can we please get some sleep?¨ seem to have about as much protective effect as the gargoyles on the nearby ancient cathedrals had against the various invaders who have ruled this land for most of its known history. In fact, many locals view the tourist hordes as just another one of these invasions. Thankfully, they have traded in the boiling oil for more civilized, though perhaps less effective, means of resistance.
On a political note (of which this blog will have its fair share), I wanted to relate a comment made to me by Richard, a painter from San Diego who married a Catalan woman and opened an art gallery with her in the Gothic quarter. He said it was quite amazing how politically vibrant he feels Barcelona is compared to the United States. He says there are demonstrations and protests all the time -- and much of the time, the protesters win. Even more contrasting is the attitude of the police. They stand by peacefully as student protesters burn benches in the street, and labor protesters paint over entire facades of banks with whitewash and graffiti. They wait until the protesters are done, and then silently clean up afterwards. I guess the costs of this sort of free speech are just built into the city budget, the way US major cities build in funds for extra police, tear gas and riot gear. I think the Spanish way is cheaper.
I have just finished reading Orwell´s Homage to Catalonia, which makes a point of noting that Barcelonians have always been on the more radical side of the already left-leaning Spanish populace. During the Spanish Civil War it was the heart of resistance against Franco and fascism, as well as against the Soviet domination of the resistance movement. The free and egalitarian spirit of Barcelona described in the book made me fall in love with it before I even arrived. It seemed to not only represent two core values, but also be able to combine them in a much better way than a lot of cynics claim is possible.
But I must return to the story. I simply wanted to emphasize that Barcelona is in a way the perfect city in Europe for me to visit first. Of course it also has all the trappings of a great tourist town: museums, restaurants, beaches. The Picasso museum was terrific: an entire museum filled by a single painter´s work, yet it truly felt like it contained the works of a hundred because, in addition to his own various styles, Picasso often adopted or imitated styles of other artists. There were paintings in the style of Monet, Velasquez, Rembrandt, Goya, and dozens of other painters whom I couldn´t name, all drawn by Picasso. Some of these paintings were quite a revelation to me, who in his heart of hearts always suspected that impressionists couldn´t draw realistic art to save their lives.
I am not a big art conosseur and am boorishly content with that state of affairs, so the Picasso museum was the only one I´ve visited here. Of the main architectural sites I have seen the bare minimum. La Sagrada Familia, the massive unfinished church designed by Gaudi was impressive, but didn´t leave me with any meaningful insights. I decided not to contribute 3 euros to the construction effort, which are scheduled to be complete in 50 years because I had a tough time figuring out the astronomical sum it would have become by the year 2054 through the wonders of compound interest and inflation. I decided a better approach would be to invest the money and just buy the cathedral outright when the value of my investment appreciated enough. Unfortunately my dreams of grandeur went up in smoke soon afterwards, when I spent the 3 euros on a gelato ice cream cone.
I have more to say on Barcelona, but the effect of the sparkling Catalan cava wine has worn off, and with it, my inspiration. Tomorrow is the day to deal the final deadly blow to jetlag by getting up at the crack of dawn, renting a car, and heading for the mountains. I will write more on Barcelona later.
PS. Pictures are coming soon. Stay tuned!
posted by Dmitri Evseev at 2:23 AM
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