Gaudi Doody

On my second full day in Barcelona, I got up early (for me) and headed back to Sagrada Familia, the mammoth but incomplete cathedral and final obsession of Antoni Gaudi. I got there around 9:30 in the morning, went in to the grounds, and discovered that the elevators that served the spires were out of order. So I walked up the stairs.

And walked.

And walked.

And walked some more. It was, the signs said, almost 200 metres to the top (that's about 650 feet to the metrically challenged) and by 10 a.m. when I started my ascent it was probably already 30 degrees in Barcelona. But despite the sweat and hard climb, it was well worth the views of the city -- SF is by far the tallest building in its part of the city, and rivalled by very few elsewhere, so the view is quite spectacular. And you get to see the nave that is under construction, still, and as a worker at the church explained to me, is expected to be finished in either 20 or 80 years. (I assume he meant between 20 and 80 years, not one or the other.)

After crossing a bridge from one spire to the other that was narrow and a bit acrophobia inducing, I descended the other side and visited the museum beneath the church that explains some of Gaudi's techniques and displayed many of the clay models he made for the project, or that subsequent architects and artisans have made. It was very cool.

Next, I took a short break in the park next to the cathedral to rest my legs, and then walked back toward the city center. After about 15 minutes, I arrived again at Casa Batllo, which is another Gaudi landmark. After paying the €16 entry fee (which allowed me to see the attic, roof garden and the main part of the house) I marvelled at the brilliance of this house, which is said to have no straight lines anywhere in it. The design elements that Gaudi incorporated into this house -- that are all the more impressive because each of them also serves a functional purpose, be it increasing air flow, light dispersement, etc. -- are truly stunning. I think after spending an hour or so seeing this house it ended up being my favorite thing in Barcelona.

After that, I walked back to La Rambla, had a quick bite to eat, and ventured toward Barceloneta, where the Olympic Village was in 1992, and near the beach and the Mediterranean. I wandered about for a while, soaking up as much of the atmosphere as I could, but eventually the 35 degree heat started getting to me, and I headed back to the hotel for a quick siesta. After a nap of about an hour, I awoke to a commotion on the street below me (my room was only one floor up, so there was a lot of street noise.) I opened the curtains and after watching for a minute or two, realized the Olympic torch was being run right past my hotel. This marks the second time in my life I've seen the Olympic torch, the first being from my dad's shoulders in 1976 a block or so from our Beaconsfield, Quebec, home. (I wish I had a picture of that Kodak moment to share.)


Continuing my Olympic moment, I next took the tram up to Parc Montjuic, and then a gondola/cable car thing even further up to the Castle at the top, which used to be used by the Castilians to bombard the Catalan masses below. The castle was kind of interesting, but I mostly went to see the views of the harbor and the rest of the city, and I walked by the Olympic Stadium, too. I walked back down the mountain to my hotel, grabbed some dinner, and called it a night.