Spain – Stepping off the Treadmill

Málaga. Sunshine, Surprises, and Farewells.

It’s a beautiful city with wide thoroughfares bordered by magnificent palm trees. It’s a joyous place filled with history, contemporary art, and tapas bars.

We went to Málaga to leave it. And now I think we need to figure out how to get back again. Soon.

We had to end our Andalucian trip at an international airport so we could to fly to England to see family. Málaga is on the southern coast of Spain, has an airport, and gets, on average, 300 days of sunshine. It seemed a good idea to have a couple of days there before heading out to the UK. We don’t go to England for the weather.

I had booked us an apartment that was “on the beach” in an area called El Palo. We were traveling without a car and needed to be somewhere we could access on public transit. El Palo has a thriving community life — at this time of year the beaches are not filled with sunbathers or partying tourists. There were playgrounds filled with young families with children, people throwing balls for energetic dogs, and joggers and strollers sharing the walkway. The beach was there, as a fact of life. It gave us an untouristy view of life that was refreshing.

A sandy beach with palm trees and blue sky. — El Palo. You can see the large letters spelling El Palo backwards. There were only a few folks out relaxing on the beach.

Our apartment was above a restaurant right by the beach. We settled in and then came downstairs to sit outside and order a late afternoon plate of fried calamari and anchovies. While we were waiting for them to arrive, I looked out on the beach and saw a hut with smoke coming out of it. I went to investigate and found a small old boat, filled with sand, on which a wood fire was built. Beside the fire was a skewer with sardines grilling – the very thing Tim had been longing for on the whole trip! Five sardines for 2 Euros! The most inexpensive thing we ate on our trip, and one of the best tastes we had.

I looked down the beach and saw similar grills outside of all of the restaurants. We felt very hopeful for our time in Málaga.

However… while El Palo gets great reviews on Google, I expect those are from people who were not travelling there in February. We had arrived on a Sunday and by 5:00, all of the small restaurants in our area were closed. So we went in search of a grocery store. All of them were closed as well.

As the evening wore on and thoughts of dinner surfaced, we walked for miles along the “boardwalk.” (It’s a sidewalk, really, but has a boardwalk feel about it.) There were tons of bars, but they were busy with the kind of partying trade that Málaga is famous for –– younger folks who were happy just to be drinking. Although the bars posted menus, no one was eating. Not a great sign.

I know, I know, the common wisdom is that Spaniards eat late. But we hadn’t encountered this problem anywhere else. In our experience, Spaniards love to eat all of the time. We walked the boardwalk in a desultory mood, aware that this was one of our last nights in Spain. We tried to cheer ourselves by listening hard for some sound of the movement of the waves. But even the waves had retreated.

However, we reminded ourselves that there was three feet of fresh snow back in Canada. We were warm and comfortable. And we were treated to a lovely sunset.

Sunset behind tall palm trees. — Walking the boardwalk. the grass gives way to sand — you can make out poles enclosing beach volleyball games.

The next morning, we found out that many of the local Tabernas were not open on Monday. While we could stock up on grilled sardines for lunch at our local restaurant, the beach wasn’t really that inviting and we didn’t want to spend another evening wandering aimlessly. We hadn’t originally planned to do any sightseeing in Málaga, but we decided to take a bus to the city centre.

It was a great decision. Central Málaga is beautiful and lively. Yes, there were more tourists, but for good reason. It’s a beautiful city with wide thoroughfares bordered by magnificent palm trees. It’s a joyous place filled with history, contemporary art, and tapas bars.

A baroque mansion with yellow stone walls and white columns, and a clock tower on top — The Málaga city hall, known as La Casona del Parque (the mansion in the park)

The Gibralfaro Castle (10^th century ) overlooks the whole city from atop the Mount Gibralfaro. Beside it rests the Alcazaba, one of the largest Arab fortresses in Andalucia. Below, a Roman amphitheatre dominates the square.

Roman Amphitheatre carved into the rock. Stone walled fortress above. — Roman Amphitheatre with Alcazaba beyond.

However, we didn’t visit any of those. We’d been very immersed into history in Granada, Córdoba, and Sevilla, we needed to slide ourselves back into the 20^th and 21^st centuries. So, we headed to the Picasso Museum.

Picasso was born in Málaga and spent much of his life in this area. His work is steeped in the sensibility of this land. The major exhibit was called Pablo Picasso: Structures of Invention. The Unity of a Life’s Work and it focussed on seeing Picasso’s work as a unity, rather than dividing it into “periods” as is usually done. It highlights both his inventiveness in numerous mediums, and his retrospective connection to previous artists. It was a holistic way to see Picasso that we’d never encountered before. There was a room dedicated to his sketchbooks that was like a secret window into his process. I began to see familiar works in new ways. I began, as we had started our trip to Spain, to open my eyes again.

Both Tim and I were bowled over by a guest piece by artist William Kentridge called “More Sweetly Play the Dance.” Kentridge was born in Johannesburg, South Africa. The piece is a 40-foot long video installation that combines film, animation, still life, drawings, and music. It was created to reference the Ebola outbreak in South Africa in 2015, but has strong resonance to our experiences during Covid, as well as to the world-wide refugee crisis and displacement of humans. From the museum website: “It presents an infinite procession of moving figures, a device regularly used by the artist to champion the individuality of every human being, the importance of the body and the power of dance to keep death at bay.”

The piece is joyous, profound and provocative, probably one of the strongest pieces of art that we saw in our entire trip. There’s a great short video by Kentridge talking about the piece, and the place of dance: “…a belief in the middle ages that if the plague arrived and you kept dancing, the plague would jump over your village and go on to the next…”

I definitely think that the plague would skip over anyone dancing flamenco!

After that we emerged into the sunshine and connected differently to Málaga. We headed down to the port where a touring catamaran was just about to leave, and we jumped aboard for an hour of gentle sailing on the ocean.

Man and woman with boats behind them. — We hopped aboard!

We could see the entire coastline of Málaga and how much there was yet to discover.

Coastline with white houses in the distance, a mountain range, and clouds dotting a blue sky. — Looking back at Málaga

We finished our day with Aperol Spritz in the sunshine. That evening, we had one last paella sitting outside at a Taberna. We began planning our return trip.

Woman sitting at an outside table in a bar, drinking an orange coloured drink. — Saying good-bye to Spain

Granada. Palaces and Dreams.

We spent a small fortune to sit and have wine on the edge of the rock, with the Alhambra and the snow-covered Sierra Nevada mountains in the distance. But it was worth every penny.

And then there is Granada.

If anyone were to ask my advice about visiting Granada, I would say “Spend twice as long as you are planning. It still won’t be enough.”

The main feature for tourism in Granada is the Alhambra, and that was why we went. I had no idea I would become so totally enchanted by the city and the culture. We had a magical room in a guest house, Solar Montes Claros, in a neighbourhood on hill above the city centre, the Albaicín. If we had done nothing else, the trip would have been worth it just to spend time there. Spacious and designed like something out of the Arabian nights, it overlooked the Alhambra and the city below with stunning sunsets.

View of houses, tall trees, and a sunset — View of Granada from our window at Solar Montes Claros

After a day of hiking in the hills, It was glorious to soak my aching muscles in a bath fit for a queen.

An elaborate bathtub — We didn’t go to the Arab baths, but this was a close second

The Albaicín is the oldest Arab district in Granada. The roads are a maze of narrow streets and the hills are steep –– perhaps not the ideal location for aged hips. But I’m so glad to have discovered it. It had a huge influence on our experience in Granada. We only just scratched the surface of what is there.

On our first afternoon, we navigated the streets up to the best look out point, the Mirador San Nicolás. I’m embarrassed to say that I had done very little research about Granada before we left –– if I had, I would have found out that this small square is considered the best view in Granada. It is phenomenal and somewhat life-changing. The sun shone and a handful of people gathered in the small plaza to soak it in.

A vista overlooking the Alhambra and the Sierra Nevada mountains, with people sitting on a wall in the foreground. — Mirador San Nicolás

We spent a small fortune to sit at a restaurant and have wine, immersed in this beauty on the edge of the rock, with the Alhambra and the snow-covered Sierra Nevada mountains in the distance. It was worth every penny.

Woman sitting in the sunshine laughing, with the Alhambra and snow capped mountains in the distance. — Add in the Spanish white wine and the olives and you have a pretty perfect moment.

Albaicín is adjacent to Sacromonte, which is the neighbourhood that the Roma moved into in the 15^th century. Both Albaicín and Sacromonte are known for the white-washed caves (cuevas) that were carved out of the rock for people to live in. The area is still a stronghold of Roma culture. Importantly, it is the home for flamenco in Granada.

The caves are small, and those that are used for flamenco have a few chairs and tables and a small stage. If they are really small, they may only have a few chairs tucked along the sides of the cave. You can often buy dinner as well. A drink is always included.

I found a cave called El Templo del Flamenco that sounded like it would not be too touristy, so I purchased tickets for that evening. We set off with our GPS lit up. It is very easy to get lost in the maze of roads. Sharp turns and steep cobbled inclines transformed into drastic plunges only to spike upwards again. I kept my eye on the GPS, but it turns out that while GPS is fine on flat landscapes, it struggles to differentiate levels. In other words, we would follow it to where it told us to go, only to find out that our true destination was on the street directly above us. Which would mean retracing our steps and re-negotiating the hills we had just been on. At one such juncture Tim was ready to bail. “How much did you pay for these tickets…?” But we persevered and finally found our way to El Templo del Flamenco and a cave that holds about 40 people.

I don’t have any critical eye to describe Flamenco. I know that this show was very good, but it didn’t thrill us as much as the raw energy we had felt in Cordoba. But that may have been entirely subjective. However, this was the only place we saw a male dancer and he was astonishing. Somehow he conveyed humour and passion in such a way that we thought he might explode on the stage. I thought back to the definition of Duende: A heightened state of emotion, expression, and authenticity. A tragedy-inspired ecstasy. He embodied all of that. I don’t know how his body contained that energy. Try to imagine Buster Keaton, Fred Astaire, Rudolf Nureyev, Michael Jackson and Leonard Cohen all wrapped up together. He was that good.

We were a bit dazed as we wound our way back to the guest house. We found a square where we stopped for a light dinner at a Taberna –– the owner told Tim what he wanted to eat and would brook no argument. But we were happy to eat whatever he brought (as it turns out, he brought a hot stone sizzling with some pork medallions on it), as we sat outside under a soft drizzle of rain, our ears and eyes filled with magic and questions.

The next day was our day to go to the Alhambra. In the morning, we walked down (and down and down) into the city and were stunned when we got there to see how cosmopolitan it was. In front of the Cathedral we came across a red carpet and what was obviously a paparazzzi moment. We learned that the Goya Awards (Spain’s equivalent of the Oscars) were being held in Granada that night. That gave the city an additional sparkle of glamour for us.

Front of large Cathedral with someone being interviewed on a red carpet and a security man in the foreground. — The Cathedral of Granada, built in 1518 overtop of the city’s main mosque. I don’t know who was being interviewed, but clearly you don’t want to mess with the guy in the foreground

The centre of town has thoroughfares of dense traffic on spacious wide streets but leading off these are surprising narrow alleys that open out to plazas that feel like small villages. We found a children’s carousel made of wooden animals and powered by a man pedalling a stationary bicycle. An “eco-carousel.”

Children's Merry Go-Round in an open plaza. — The Carousel was doing a brisk business in the February sunshine.

Wooden rides in the Merry Go-Round — Apparently they’ve been in operation for 25 years.

We had coffee and absorbed a bit of city life until it was time to head up to the rarified atmosphere of the Alhambra.

View from a distance of Nasrid Palace and trees. — View of the palaces from Generalife, the gardens

The Alhambra is one of the best-preserved palaces of Islamic architecture. The site atop the al-Sabina hill in the Sierra Nevada mountains commands the surrounding countryside. Constructed in 1238 by Muhammad I Ibn al-Ahmar (the first Nasrid Emir and founder of the Emirate of Granada) over pre-existing Visigoth and Arab fortresses, the Alhambra was to be the last holdout of the Al-Andalus empire. In its hey-day, it was a self-contained city that looked out to the town below.

View through an arched window to the town below — Looking down from the Nasrid Palace

The Emirate of Granada fell to the Spanish Reconquesta in 1492. The Arab palace became the court of Ferdinand and Isabella. Christopher Columbus presented his sailing plans here, in the Hall of the Ambassadors. Today, it is a UNESCO World Heritage site that is astonishing for its location, gardens, complex tile and carvings.

It is hard to grasp the beauty and detail in these tiled walls, arches, and fountains. Around every turn there is a window framing a courtyard or the vista of the landscape.

Columns supporting delicately carved arches, looking out to a plaza with a fountain surrounded by stone lions. — Court of the Lions

It would take many days to truly do justice to the grandeur of the Alhambra. The carvings, the gardens, the reflecting pools –– it is hard not to be overwhelmed by this beauty. It has inspired writers throughout the centuries, including Washington Irving whose Tales of the Alhambra (1832) brought the palace to international attention.

A ceiling dome made of marble and lapiz lazuli, with many small carved arches, geometric designs and Arabic epigraphy. — No photo could do justice to the intricate carving and Arabic epigraphy on this dome.

We spent two hours just walking in the gardens (Generalife) and even though it was February, when the plants in the gardens were dormant, we were overwhelmed by the grandeur.

Generalife was a kind of summer residence for visiting sultans.

The Alhambra was definitely the pinnacle of our journey into the Islamic architecture of Al-Andalus.

Close up of carved Arabic epigraphy with lapis lazuli behind — Detail of the epigraphy and geometric designs. You can see the use of lapis lazuli behind the marble. These carvings fill the walls of the Nasrid palace.

But Granada is far more than the Alhambra. At the bottom of the street where we were staying in Albaicín was another flamenco cave, La Cueva Flamenca Los Parrones. We had been approached on the street by one of the owners (we think he was – my Spanish isn’t great) who persuaded us to come to the show. We said we would since it was going to be the last chance we’d have to see more flamenco on this trip. But could they give us something to eat that night if we came? We were taken to the kitchen to smell the stew they would give us, an Adalucian specialty with chick peas, vegetables, and meats called Puchero. “Como tu abuela hacia!” (Like your grandmother used to make!) It smelled heavenly. We were sold. And so, after a post Alhambra rest, we went out for our last night of Flamenco.

We sat with fourteen other people in a tiny room carved out of the rock.

A small room with wooden chairs along the side, lit with dim blue light. — We were sitting on the right, at the head of the room. The guitarist sat in the chair behind where the white cloth is, and I sat beside him.

We were given pride of place right beside the performers, literally so close that the dancer accidentally kicked Tim at one point. The guitar player needed to turn sideways so as not to hit me when he needed to tune. It’s not hyperbole to say we were transported by the music and energy of this moment. This was our experience of duende, although without the stripping of clothes or throwing chairs.

After the show we were taken into a side room and fed salad and soup and more wine. We were the only people eating — it clearly wasn’t something they were usually set up to do but they treated us royally. It turned out that this was only their fourth night of operation and everyone was partying in the other room. We were hugged by the guitar player, by the man who made our amazingly delicious stew, and by the man who had persuaded us to come (who you can see in the photo.) We were made honourary abuelos, grandparents, and I couldn’t be more honoured.

Man, woman, and man hugging outside a white stone stone wall

I left a piece of my heart there.

Córdoba. History, Change, and Duende

…it was one of the most advanced cities in the world –– a renowned centre for culture, politics, and finances…

I had no idea I would love Córdoba so much.

We stayed in the old city, in an apartment overlooking La Plaza del Potro (the Plaza of the Colt) with its wonderful Renaissance statue of a rearing young horse.

Looking down on a Renaissance Place with a horse sculpture and fountain. — The view of La Plaza del Potro from our window. The Inn mentioned in Don Quixote is in the large doorway on the right.

The Renaissance horse sculpture in La Plaza del Potro. — The horse sculpture

The Plaza was originally a centre for horse trading and all of the sketchy characters that go along with that. It has a literary history that includes a reference in Don Quixote to the Inn that operated in the plaza in the 15^th century. It was here that poor Sancho Panza was hurled up and down on a blanket –– tormented because they couldn’t pay their bill.

Courtyard with hanging pots of geraniums, tiled roof and wooden ballustrades. — The courtyard of the Inn, now the Centro Flamenco Fosforito

The Inn is now Centro Flamenco Fosforito, a flamenco museum, considered the best flamenco museum in Andalucia. We listened to recordings by Paco de Lucia, Vicente Amigo, and Antonio Fernandez Diaz –– all master guitarists known for advancing the form. We tried out quizzes about the rhythms and failed miserably. It is foreign to our ears, but so deliciously inviting.

“The Arabs call the experience of aesthetic perfection capable of dragging paroxysm ‘tárab’. It occurs when the artist’s mind strips away from his/her ties and reaches a state of grace; the audience cries, literally tear their clothes and throw chairs; the duende, an emotional load experienced especially by the gypsies (sic), takes hold of the environment. It is the quintessence of flamenco.” (From the Centro Flamenco Fosforito)

Duende is a term that I came across again and again in Spain. It means a heightened state of emotion, expression, and authenticity. It originally connects to a folklore figure, sort of like a gnome or, in J.K. Rowlings’ world, a house elf. But its larger meaning has to do with a tragedy-inspired ecstasy that is usually connected to flamenco. It describes what I was starting to feel in the presence of flamenco, and in Andalucia.

Although our apartment overlooked the plaza, this was off season and it was quiet and private. There were neighbourhood Tabernas that offered simple fare that suited us just fine. The river Guadalquivir runs at the bottom of the street and is a thoroughfare for joggers, bikers, and walkers with and without dogs and children. A Roman bridge spans the river and a huge Roman arch welcomes you into the city.

A Roman bridge across a river — The Roman bridge across the River Guadalquivir, looking north toward the old city and the Roman arch.

Córdoba’s history runs deep. Neanderthal remains from 42,000 – 35,000 B.C. have been found here. The Guadalquivir encouraged settlement and the Phoenicians moved in around the 8^th Century B.C., soon to be followed by the Romans, Visigoths, and Muslim empires. It is the latter that built up the city as a major centre of power, learning, and influence. In the 9^th century C.E., the population was somewhere between 75,000 – 160,000, and by the 10^th century it was one of the most advanced cities in the world –– a renowned centre for culture, politics, and finances. There were over 80 libraries and schools.

It was during this period that the huge mosque, La Mezquita, was built by Abd al-Rahman I in 785. The mosque reused some of the Roman and Visigothic materials from previous centuries, which you can see in variety of the capitals of the columns. But while they made use of materials at hand, they did not stint in the use of lapis, gold, and granite.

La Mezquita originally held 1500 worshippers and over the years it was expanded several times by al-Rahman’s sons to the point where, by the thirteenth century, it held 40,000 worshippers. It is open, spacious and incredibly beautiful with its soaring striped arches.

Inside La Mezquita, the mosque, with large red and white stone arches, — La Mezquita

The Mihrab, indicating the direction of prayer.

But when Córdoba was “reconquered” (La Reconquista) by King Ferdinand III of Castile in 1236, he put a Catholic cathedral right in the middle of the Mosque.

La Catedral de Córdoba. You can see the red and white stripes of the arches of the Mosque through the arch on the left.

It feels bizarre — like a life-size playhouse plunked in without any regard for the Islamic architecture. The Cathedral is still a consecrated Catholic Church. As a pilgrim from either religion, you can flow seamlessly from one to the other. La Mezquita and La Catedral were declared a World Heritage site in 1984.

Córdoba was also known as a place of incredible tolerance, where Muslims, Christians, and Jews coexisted for centuries as neighbours and friends. We navigated the narrow winding streets to find the Sinogoga de Córdoba, one of the best preserved of the three surviving Medieval Synagogues in Spain.

It was built between 1314- 1315 and was in use until the Jews were expelled from Spain in 1492. It’s small and was perhaps initially a private synagogue for a wealthy resident. It was obviously influenced by the Arab art and architecture, with intricate and lacing geometric carvings and arches. After we had been there for a few minutes, a group of visiting teenagers coalesced into a circle to dance and sing the Hora. They were giggling, slightly embarrassed, but absolutely charming and full of life.

The Alcazar de los Reyes Cristianos de Córdoba was built in the same period as the synagogue by Alfonso XI. He put it on top of an Islamic-era palace and it, too, maintains the Mujédar influence. It became a fortress by the river that served as a residence for Isabella and Ferdinand. Christopher Columbus had his first audience here with the monarchs. Infamously, it was used as one of the main headquarters for the Inquisition, and the Arab baths were converted into torture chambers.

The tower of the Alcazar became known as the “Tower of the Inquisition.”

But today it is calm, gracious and restful. Even in the relative cool of February, with more weeds than flowers, we could appreciate the grandeur of the gardens and how they had been designed to ease the heat of the summer months.

Gardens of the Alcazar de los Reyes Cristianos

With all of this wealth of history and culture, you can understand why we spent hours exploring local artifacts in the Archeological Museum of Córdoba (built on top of a Roman Amphitheatre) before sitting outside to feast on lemon boqueróns — the delicately flavored white anchovies that are marinated in lemon before being fried. And olives, of course. The best way to understand a place is always through the food.

While we were in Córdoba, we also went to the famous Córdoba Equestre, the international riding school and stables about which Fredrico Garcia Lorca said, “In Córdoba, even the horses have their Cathedral.” The public performances combine the essence of flamenco with dressage. The horses are guided by their riders to execute delicate dance moves that exemplify the artistic height of the relationship between rider and horse. Andalusian horses are a special breed, and the stables in Córdoba have been breeding them since before Columbus set off for America. In fact, Andalusian horses were the breed that Columbus brought with him to the New World.

In those days, the River Guadalquivir was wide and energetic as it flowed into Córdoba. In the centuries since, the river has become silted up and Córdoba eventually lost its supremacy as a city of power and influence. Perhaps that is why I love it so much. There is grandeur without arrogance, and people are amazingly friendly and kind. It’s a city that doesn’t have to prove anything, one that I already long to go back to.

Table outside with green olives, pits, a glass of beer, and dried flowers.

Feasting Our Senses in Sevilla

We were sucked into the heart of Flamenco on the street, and hooked.

Sevilla is where we fell in love with Flamenco. But first, the city prepared us with its style, fun, and grandeur.

We stayed in the old city, getting appropriately lost in the narrow, twisty streets with inviting Tabernas on every corner. Although it is obviously a tourist city, we felt very welcomed. It’s remarkably friendly, with delights and surprises around every turn.

Nothing was quite as surprising as turning a corner and seeing the Las Setas (the mushrooms).

Standing under a curving wooden structure. — Under Las Setas

Considered the world’s largest wooden structure, we didn’t pay to go on top of the “Parasol” as it is often called. Las Setas is built on top of a market, La Encarnación that has operated here for centuries, but it was late in the afternoon and people were packing up. But we meandered through and had tiny perfect local beer and a plate of exquisite jamón Ibérico drizzled with olive oil and lemon juice. And a few olives, of course.

Sevilla is of course famous for its orange trees. They line the streets and are laden with fruit. The orange trees were introduced to Sevilla for their decoration and culinary uses around the 10th century.

They are Seville oranges, of course, from which one makes Seville Marmalade. Bitter until you add a good quantity of sugar. In Spanish, mermelade just means jam.

And under the orange trees, Tabernas. It was tempting to simply move from one Taberna to the next, watching oranges fall and life go by.

Our first night in Sevilla, we crossed the Guadaquivir river to go to a tasting menu that our son had gifted to me for my birthday. Ivantxu is a Michelin star restaurant that combines authentic Andalusian ingredients with a contemporary flair. Our nine courses included a sea urchin bisque, Pigeon a la Royal, txangurro (spider crab) croquette, and traditionally prepared antxoa (anchovy) in a spray of sea foam.

Marinated Hake with Setas and sauce. The delicate leaf was edible and crunchy. It tasted of truffle and spices.

It was all astonishing and surprising and paired very well with a number of delicious Spanish wines!

By the good graces of GPS, we were navigated back through the winding streets to our apartment.

The next day, armed with my broken and faulty Spanish, I felt emboldened to try almost anything. We found a cheap and cheery local café, definitely not tourist fare, and sat outside for breakfast. Traditional working breakfast is usually some form of Tostada Con Tomate. If you’re fancy, you might have it with ham or a bit of cheese. I ordered something called Tostada con Zurrapa, which my phone translated as toast with “dregs.” The waitress assured me it was delicious, as long as I was all right with meat. I think the meat was probably bits left over from a soup bone (hence the dregs). It was combined with tomato sauce and spices, smeared over the toasted bread, then drizzled with olive oil. A great way to start a day of after a night of excess.

Our tickets for the Alcazar (the World Heritage site that is the main tourist attraction in Sevilla) were for late afternoon, so we settled into organized wandering throughout the downtown area near the river. We discovered a park and followed our ears to singing and dancing. We stopped dead. Never have I been so overwhelmed by sound. Flamenco. It is the “troubled air.” It is unfathomable rhythms, intense emotion, the call of something ancient and wild. There is of course a lot of “tourist” Flamenco, but this was honest and real. We were sucked into the heart of Flamenco on the street, and hooked.

A person dancing, two people clapping. — Flamenco on the street in Sevilla

We had to tear ourselves away to go to Real Alcázar.

In 913 AD, Abd al-Rahman III established Sevilla as the capital of Al-Andalus and built his palace over an old Visigothic Christian basilica. The palace remained Islamic until 1248, when Ferdinand III of Castile took it over. It has been remodelled in the Islamic Andalusian style ever since, and the Royal Spanish family still occupy one section of the palace when they are in residence.

The Palace itself is overwhelmingly regal and beautiful. The details of the carving are hard to comprehend. We wandered from room to room, trying to grasp an understanding through our audio guide and feeling totally inadequate. (Note to self – splurge on tour next time!) We eventually lost sight of each other and became increasingly disoriented.

Until I got to the Gardens. They are designed for quiet contemplation and serve their purpose very well.

Gardens and grotto wall. — The gardens of the Alcazar and the Grotto wall

I can only imagine how beautiful these gardens are in the spring. With the orange trees, walkways, peacocks, fountains, they are the epitome of something out of the Arabian Nights. In the spring, you’d have the smell of blossoms too. The feast would surely go to your head and render you incapable of doing anything else except to luxuriate in your senses.

But with the setting sun, it was time for another Taberna and more “pescalitos fritos,” the tiny fried fish that are a specialty of Andalusia. Perfect to usher in nightfall and plan the next venue.

Our youngest son had told us about an authentic place to see/hear/experience Flamenco. La Carboniera is well-hidden, and, by the time we got there, packed. We were definitely the most senior residents. The Sangria was flowing and we shared a jug with a couple of fellow travellers, who shared their olives and cheeses. But when the Flamenco started, we were silenced and dumbstruck. Stories were told between the guitar, singer and dancer. It was alive and thriving and essential. Everyone in the room was drawn together into the heart of the guitar, voice and movement.

The next day was overcast and we spent a large part of it wandering in the Maria Luisa Park and exploring the astonishing Plaza España, which was created for the 1923 Expo.

There are tiled banquettes dedicated to each of the 49 Spanish provinces. I want to take a pilgrimage to each and every one. Because I suspect there will be equal surprises to discover…

In the afternoon we braved the Cathedral and La Giralda.

The Seville Cathedral is immense, built to impress. It’s one of the largest and most ornate Cathedrals in the world. Spain struck it rich in “the Indes,” and there is an appropriately lavish tomb in the Cathedral for the founder of the feast, Christopher Columbus.

The base of the tomb of Christopher Columbus. A plaque tells you that his remains have been authenticated.

With their new found wealth, the Spanish nobles turned their attention to hiring the finest architects, builders, carvers and artists in Europe. The Cathedral blends the civilization of the Almohads (the North African Berber Muslim empire that ruled Al-Andalus and created the original Alcazar palace) with the Spanish Reconquista (the Spanish Christians who fought to claim the Iberian peninsula). To this day, the Cathedral remains a central place of worship for Catholics where “The synthesis of faith, liturgy and art helps us to encounter the Invisible God through the visible.” (Archbishop D. Jose Angel Saiz Meneses)

Although much of the architecture is influenced by the Almohads, most of the original Mosque on the site was destroyed. All that is left is La Giralda, the old minaret, which was converted into a bell tower in the Renaissance and crowned with a bronze statue/ weathervane inspired by the image of Pallas Athena.

We braved the climb up all 36 stories to get to the top for a view of the city below. So much still to discover.

View from the top of the city to the plaza below. — Looking down from La Girlada to the Cathedral.

We celebrated our time in Sevilla with a traditional Valencia Paella (Tim, who makes brilliant Paella, was on a quest to try as many different ones as he could), limped our way back to the apartment, and bid a sad farewell to the grandeur and beauty of Sevilla.

Person sitting on a tiled bench under a large tree

Learning to See Again

There’s that glorious feeling when you’ve been on a plane all night and you arrive in a different climate and time zone. When you stretch out your legs and everything is new.

We fled January in Canada and landed in Madrid.

Amanda and Tim on a street in Madrid with the Hotel Mediodia in the background — Arriving in Madrid. The Hotel Mediodia in the background.

Our sole focus for going to Madrid was to go to El Prado, La Reina Sofia, and, if we could manage it, the Thyssen-Bornemisza –– iconic art galleries that have captured our imaginations for years but where we had never been. A first stage of the “input” journey. Open your eyes and see.

We had booked ourselves into the Hotel Mediodia. It is easy walking distance from there to all three galleries. We arrived before we could check in so, after the all-night flight, we blearily dropped our bags, had a breakfast of Spanish tortilla and patas bravas, and headed out to investigate. There’s that glorious feeling when you’ve been on a plane all night and you arrive in a different climate and time zone. When you stretch out your legs and everything is new. Everything stands in sharp relief, waiting to be noticed. Birds, streetlights, sculptures, building cornices, edges of park paths –– everything is there, waiting for you to see it.

Museo Del Prado with a statue of Velasquez in front — Museo Del Prado

We wound our way to El Prado. Our thought was to just get the lay of the land and figure out where everything was. But when we got there, we were caught up in the idea of it all. We realized it was going to be too much to see in any given day, so we might as well start then, right away, and dive in. We decided to take a group tour to get a sense of the place. It was perfect. We were dazed but delighted by the information and surprises. Tim, who has a BFA and MFA in Visual Arts, said he learned things on the 90-minute tour that he never learned in seven years of art school.

The Prado. What can one say? I geared myself to Spanish history and Spanish painters. I felt as though I was trying to suck it in all into my body, to bring the reality of this “old” world into my understanding. I began to fully appreciate the importance of the Spanish court and the fact that they sent Columbus out onto the sea with three ships and changed the course of human history.

We spent most of that first day the Prado, interrupted only by the need, eventually, to sleep and then to eat again. We found a welcoming Taberna, where the wine was cheap and the food excellent.

Well rested and with only slight cases of jet lag, we immersed ourselves in the Prado again the next day. Already, it felt like an old friend. We shared new-found favourites with each other (we travel separately in galleries) and went more deeply into Velasquez and Goya in particular. The breadth of Goya’s work, his journey from traditional to madness, was a window into intense creativity. Beauty, pain, passion. Inquiry, pride, politics.

Foot weary, we left, knowing that there will always be more. But needing to rest before navigating La Reina Sofia.

La Reina Sofia was almost too much to take. Seeing Guernica surrounded by rooms of war posters and art, gave it even more context. Especially now, as wars rage and refugees flee, Guernica and the “Prop-art” are even more vibrant, and all too familiar.

But what struck me most was an exhibition called “In the Troubled air,” a line from Federico García Lorca’s poem Romancero gitano: “En la aire conmovido…” The curator has assembled many different pieces, different media, to explore the idea of the effect of the the movement of “air”, both in terms of atmospheric movement, emotion, and politics. From the website:

“ ‘In the troubled air’ sets forth a political anthropology of emotion in a poetic tone, sketching channels of respiration and resistance to confront the persuasive culture of capitalism which has filtered into everything…

For me, this became a theme for my whole time in Spain. A place where emotion and politics coalesce. The percussive elements of sound and movements of all kinds. It paved the way to opening up my eyes, ears, heart, and mind to Flamenco, and seeing it as a political statement. But that was still several days away…

Our last day in Madrid was sunny and cool. We walked up to the Puerta del Sol, the heart of the city. All roads lead there. All protests form there. But the square itself was a disappointment of higher end chain stores where rectangular architecture meets capitalism. We were glad to find the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza close by, surprised to find it the perfect compliment to the day. A beautifully designed building filled with art from the 16^th century to contemporary. Art to fall in love with. Art that leads you back to life. With all of the horror in the world (and we are currently going through our fair share), the art at the Thyssen-Bornemisza leads you back to humans and their wisdom and passion. How unique and extraordinary it is that humans struggle to understand life, and that we work to express something about being human in order to help us to see who we are.

Our last wonderful event in Madrid was a walk to the Mercado San Miguel, where we feasted on art for the other senses.

The Mercado San Miguel is a covered market filled with tapas stalls of all kinds. We got glasses of chilled white wine and walked around tasting and sampling. I discovered the joys of a “Gilda,” a Basque tapas on a skewer with cheese (in this case a soft lovely cheese that absorbed all flavours), anchovy, pickled Iberian peppers and olives. Spanish olives really are like none other. I stood happily indulging in as many different kinds of olives as I could manage.

We ended the night at a table out on the street, eating Paella under the stars, watching people living their lives.

Feasts for all of the senses.

Taking a Breath

… a very personal record of our travels as we set out to discover Madrid and Andalusia, and to rediscover ourselves …

To be a creative artist of any kind means that you are almost always on output. You are digging deeply and finding ways to create art from what you are seeing and thinking. But frankly, it can be exhausting. Every well runs dry.

What bewilders me is that with social media, people seem to be on output all of the time. How do they do it? Where are the moments of reflection and contemplation that are the necessary base for creativity? How can you find strength and wisdom if you never take the opportunity to listen and watch the world?

The last few years have been artistically intense for me. I’ve had three published books in three years. There are two more on the way, and another in process. Frankly, I needed to take a step back. To breathe deeply and slowly, with no agenda to produce or create anything. And what better way to do that than on the road, where the preoccupations are train schedules and finding a good roadside café?

This blog began in 2011 as a record of our year on the road. That year, and the writing I did then, changed my life. But I don’t write regular blogs –– not every day is a day of adventure or reflection! And of course since 2011, there have been a lot of other ways to record things and tell people in fast and furious posts all about your exciting life. I’ve done my fair share of that. But with this trip, I deliberately held the journey close. I needed to take the time to be “in” the experience, rather than to write or post about it.

However, as the trip wound down and the glamour of sunny days in Spain became crystalline memories, I found that I want to wrap some words around the adventure. I wanted to put some thoughts out there for other travellers who might want to explore these roads. Or for any armchair travellers, who might be interested in the reflections of two aging writers navigating new pathways.

What follows over the next few blog entries is a very personal record of our travels, Tim’s and mine, as we set out to discover Madrid and Andalusia, and to rediscover ourselves. Tim and I off the treadmill and on the road.

Amanda and Tim on a sunny patio with the Alhambra in the distance. — Tim Wynne-Jones and Amanda Lewis in Granada

Little plates and big ideas in Barcelona

Our landlords in Barcelona gave us a special gift – a certificate for an evening of regional treats at Quimet & Quimet, a local bar/bodega. We decided to go there on our return from Bilbao.

The minute we walked in, we felt a great sense of camaraderie. A tiny, one room space, Quimet & Quimet has been going since 1914 passing from one generation to the next and currently run by a brother and sister team. The small room is filled with bottles of wine and spirits floor to ceiling (some, perhaps, that have been there since the bodega opened). There is a long prep counter along one wall, where the owners were busily working.

The place felt full with only 14 customers. There were no chairs and only two tables to stand at, so we parked ourselves beside a long refrigerator filled with wine bottles. When the owners understood that we had been given a gift certificate, they filled our glasses with Cave, put the remainder of the bottle in the fridge beside us, and told us to fill our glasses whenever we needed. Then, over the course of the next hour and a half, they treated us with 16 different montaditos – little cold tapas creations on crusty breads.

The montaditos are improvised every night, depending on the fresh ingredients at hand. We explained that we were eating pescatarian/vegetarian and were presented with assemblages of fish, shellfish, roe, beans, cheeses, fruits and vegetables. We set them out along the top of the refrigerator and shared them amongst the four of us, only regretting that we didn’t know what most of the ingredients were. Joana, one of the owners, told us what she could, but between her Spanish, and our ignorance, we were not always sure of what we were eating. However, they were exciting and unique tastes, lovingly and individually created.

Because there were no tables, we felt as though we were in someone’s home, at a great party. The hosts were creating food, non-stop, but also chatting with people and keeping the “party” going. Soon we had met and had great conversations with almost everyone in the place.

Quimet_bar — The owners, busy behind the bar at Quimet & Quimet

Quimet & Quimet specialize in local cheeses. Someone told us about Cabrallas, “the strongest sheep’s milk cheese”, made in the north of Spain. It is wrapped in “vegetable matter”, buried in the ground under cow manure and left to age for a couple of years. Apparently, the homemade version is eaten with the worms that gather around the edges. The commercial version, we were assured is worm free.

Of course we had to try some. It was that kind of a place, that kind of evening. (It was a very strong cheese. A little went a long way)

We finished the evening with Portado Miso, a chilled herbal digestif from Galicia. We walked back to the apartment feeling really lucky to have been invited and wishing that we could spend a lot more time there.

Tim, Amanda and Hinda at Quimet & Quimet

We spent the next day walking along the harbor and visiting galleries. We went to the Joan Miro gallery on Muntanya de Montjuic overlooking the city, and to the Picasso museum in Gothic palaces in the centre of the old city. Both gave us insights into the artists’ connection to their Catalan childhoods and the influence that they had on each other’s work. Inspired, we decided to go to see the work of the third great Catalan artist of the twentieth century. We went to the small town of Figueres, about 60 miles away, to experience the Dali museum.

Dali museum — The back of the museum, covered in little loaves of bread and giant eggs

Dali created his museum in a renovated theatre in his hometown. He knew it would put the town on the map as a tourist destination and it certainly has. Figueres is a pretty little Spanish town, quite ordinary, except for the fact that it houses the world’s most elaborately eccentric gallery.

The Dali museum is totally fun. It is arranged randomly, although there are arrows to guide you so that you don’t get too lost. It is filled with whimsical things that Dali made specifically for the museum. He also built it knowing it would also be his “final resting place”. His tomb is in the middle of the gallery, in a surprisingly conservative setting, surrounded by his gold jewelry creations, turning him into a kind of Faberge icon.

The central courtyard of the gallery is filled with a sculpture based on an old car.

When you look inside the car, the driver is being consumed by ivy.

For one euro, you can make it rain inside the car.

The “Face of Mae West which can be used as an apartment” installation is an apartment size recreation of a Dali painting.

By looking through a concave glass, the three-dimensional pieces come together to reproduce the painting.

Throughout the gallery there are wonderful drawings and paintings, reminding you how technically accomplished Dali was. Because we had spent the previous day with Miro and Picasso, we saw connections – a Dali hologram with elements of the same Velazquez painting that we had seen recreated as a cubist painting by Picasso. A mannequin leg sculpture almost identical to one of Miro’s sculptures we’d seen.

The gallery became greater than the sum of its parts. Politics, art, environment. Food and wine. All in the eye of the beholder, and we had beheld a lot.

Visiting this surreal gallery in the midst of a very ordinary, but lovely little town, made Dali’s work seem even more startling. We sat outside at a café in the main street of Figueres to soak up the sun and the juxtaposition. It was a fitting farewell to our time in Spain, a land of many surprises.

Bilbao and more surprises in Spain

Bilbao sits at the head of the Estuary of Bilbao in the Bay of Biscay, in the north central part of Spain, along the river Nervion. It is the largest city in the Basque country, which is an “autonomous region of Spain”. I have always heard about the Basque fight for rights and independence, but know none of the politics or history. Going to Bilbao gave me an immediate appreciation for the distinctiveness of the region.

No one in Bilbao refers to it as “Basque”. The correct name is Euskadi, which comes from the standardized version of the language, called Euskara Batua, developed in the 1960s and based on the central Basque dialect. It is now the most spoken language in the region and has official status in Spain. As a cosmopolitan city of 350,000, the tourist centres in Bilbao provide information in Euskara, Spanish, Catalan, Galacian, French and English.

The minute we arrived we knew that we wouldn’t really have enough time to do the area justice.

We had come to Bilbao from Barcelona to go to the Bilbao Guggenheim Museum. This world famous building was designed by Frank Gehry in 1997 and it has put Bilbao on the tourist map. In 1995, before the museum opened, Bilbao had 25,000 tourists. In 2009 there were 615,000 visitors annually. Bilbao is definitely worth the pilgrimage because, aside from the museum, it is a livable and welcoming small city with delicious regional cuisine.

We arrived on a sunny morning, settling into a small hotel in the old city Casco Veijo.

The original city was developed in 1300, with the cathedral at the centre of seven streets surrounded by a walled enclosure. It has a picture perfect central square with stores, cafes and a very friendly feel. A quick café con leche and we headed out for a sunny walk along the river in search of the museum.

Bilbao has a great river walk, with dramatically designed bridges and wonderful buildings set against a mountain backdrop.

It is the perfect way to come upon the Guggenheim Museum bringing you, effectively, from the back around to the front of the museum.

There is a reason why this building is world famous. It is a stunning sight from every viewpoint and much larger than any of us had imagined.

We kept circling around it, trying to fathom its shape, which seemed infinitely changeable. Being on a river, it was designed to resemble a ship, but one that is in constant motion. The organic sculpted contours create folds, curves and angles that catch the light.

When we finally made it to the front of the museum we found “Puppy”, by Jeff Koons, a wonderful living sculpture. “Puppy” sits out front fully clad in flowers that change with the season. It is about 20’ tall and gives an incredibly cheerful welcome to the museum.

Inside, the museum was equally surprising. We toured the space, walking out onto the terraces and touching the soft titanium panels of the outer shell that remind you of fish scales. The museum is the art that people come to see and we were not disappointed.

We did take some time to go through the exhibits, of course. A vast Richard Serra show, built for the gallery, takes up almost half of the first floor. The show is very much an extension of the gallery, losing us in a maze of metal, making us dizzy in the weight of the structures around us. I’ve never really appreciated Richard Serra, but seeing this work, in this space, was quite mind-bending.

Serra’s work was paired with the sculptor Constantin Brancusi. A marvelous room with soaring high ceilings was the perfect setting for Brancusi’s bird sculptures. After the density of galleries in Italy, it was wonderful to see these sculptures given such an open, spacious setting.

We walked back along the river, and journeyed back in time to the old city. Tourists off-season, we went to dinner early, 9:00, for meal of new fish discoveries. Tim had the “best fish soup” of his life – a dark rich thick broth that made every other fish stock seem anemic. We each had different kinds of fish – biscayan cod, gilthead fish, pastry parcels stuffed with mussels and prawns, monkfish.

Up early the next morning, we decided to visit the market, to see some of these local fish on offer. On the way we passed a small park that had public exercise equipment, designed for easy use. A woman was sitting reading her paper while quietly biking in place.

This is not a place for heavy sweating, but a lovely way to build up a few muscles, gently, while still enjoying the river. After all of our eating, we probably should have spent more time there.

Our last adventure in Bilboa was to take the Metro out the old port of Getxo. The Bilbao Metro is clean, efficient and easy to use. In fact we were treated to some great entertainment en route with a couple of Mexican mariachi musicians serenading the car.

Probably illegal, we realized, as they hastily put everything away before the doors opened at the next stop. But quite wonderful for us.

We didn’t have much time to explore Getxo, unfortunately. But we were able to walk in the sunshine, look out to the Bay of Biscay, and to see some of the ships that brought us our fish last night.

We spotted a restaurant on the edge of the cliff. A quick climb and we were sitting outside in the sunshine, enjoying delicious local olives, perfect salads with gorgeous fresh anchovies and local wine at Cafe Usategi Algorta. It’s an amazing restaurant with many local specialties, and a complete surprise for us. We had come with no expectations and were treated to one of the best meals of our stay in Spain.

Our visit to Euskadi was all too short.

Organic structures and learning how to eat bread in Spain

La Pedrera — Functionality and form on the roof top of Casa Milà

One of the main reasons for wanting to go to Barcelona was because of the work of Antoni Gaudí. I have always been enchanted with photos that I have seen of his work – large fantastical monuments, whimsical and daring, connecting earth and spirit. I found it hard to believe that the buildings and forms would really be there, in the midst of a busy city.

Gaudí grew up in the countryside in Catalunya, a sickly child who loved to be in nature.

“With the flowerpots, surrounded by vineyards and olive groves, cheered by the clucking of hens, the song of the birds and the buzzing of the insects, and with the mountains of Prades in the distance, I captured the purest and most pleasant images of nature that is ever our Mistress” (Gaudí).

Everything in his work was dictated by a connection to the organic forms in nature and to a deep spirituality. There were three main works of Gaudí’s that we wanted to see in Barcelona: the cathedral Sagrada Familia; Parc Guëll; and the apartment house Casa Milà.

The first stone for Sagrada Familia was laid in 1882. They think it might be finished in the first third of this century. Thousands of builders and artists have worked on it over the last 125 years in what is truly a labour of devotion. Gaudí himself lived on site for the last 10 years of his life.

Visiting Sagrada Familia was an overwhelmingly spiritual experience. This, I thought, must have been what it was like to go onto the construction site of Notre Dame Cathedral, which took a mere 80 years to build. Sagrada Familia is vast in size, scale and imagination – everywhere you look there are carvings, images with resonance to Christian symbolism. There is light, space, and a feeling of soaring energy.

“The expiatory church of La Sagrada Família is made by the people and is mirrored in them. It is a work that is in the hands of God and the will of the people.” Gaudí.

This commitment to the people included building a school, on site, for the children of the workers. A cozy place to learn.

In these days when we expect instant results, when monolithic buildings are built in a matter of months, it is extraordinary to think of the commitment that Barcelona has made to this long-term, monumental building project. You can see it from every part of the city. Words and pictures cannot do it justice. You will have to go to see it yourself. And when you do, you will be reminded that your entrance fee will go toward helping to complete the cathedral. A good reason to go.

A few blocks from Sagrada Familia we found ourselves in a perfect little “Tienda y Restaurante”. It was our first big meal in Barcelona and without knowing it we began an incredible three-hour lunchtime extravaganza at Los Bellota, productos de Extremadura.

Extremadura is in western Spain, an entirely different climate and markedly different cuisine from Catalunya. It was at this meal that we were taught the Spanish way of enjoying bread. A basket of bread, deliciously toasted and rough on one side, was brought to the table, as well as several whole tomatoes and large cloves of fresh garlic. We were a bit mystified until our waiter came over to show us what to do. Rub the garlic directly onto the warm bread. Cut the tomato and rub it directly into the bread. Dip it into olive oil. Simple and really, really good. The trick is in the roughness of the toasted bread – it must have the right kind of grating quality to liberate the garlic and tomato juices.

Bread was followed by multiple dishes of exciting tastes: “Torta Extremeña”, a baked and runny cheese that we scooped onto little toasts; “Boquerones con tomate”, anchovies on tomatoes with a parsley drizzle; “Bacalao Dorado con Cebolla y Patatas”, a kind of fry up with cod, onion and potato; “Ensalada con Queso y Frutos secos con Miel”, salad with greens, cheese, nuts, dried fruit, honey and potato (thin crisps, really) with a kind of wine vinegar reduction. Honey is used a lot in Extremadura cooking and the honey and potato combination is apparently common. The table was heaped with food and everything was incredibly good. We drank a wine from the region, “Macabeo Campo Barro”, and when we were sure we couldn’t fit in one more mouthful, the waiter brought us a digestif, on the house – a frosted drink that seemed to be a kind of aqua vitae with caramel liquour dripped in. It was delicious, the perfect finale to the meal. He left the bottle at the table, encouraging us to have as much as we liked, which was generous but considering how full we were, impossible.

There is something amazingly wonderful about huge meals in the middle of the day. This was to be the first of many extravagant lunches, with many tasty plates and incredibly good local wines. It was a good thing we had so much walking to do, so many sights to see.

Gaudí was commissioned by Pere Milà 1906 to begin work on Casa Milà, affectionately called “La Pedrera”, the stone quarry. The apartment building was a showcase for L’Eixample and represented the pride in the growth of Barcelona. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, the building is now owned by CatalunyaCaixa, an organization that focuses on Cultural, Environmental and Educational social projects. A portion of La Pedrera, including an apartment on the 4^th floor, is open to the public. It recreates the home of a bourgeois Barcelonian family of the early 20^thcentury, complete with all original fittings.

There is a softness to the lines in the apartment, and ingenious “modern” design elements including a composting and heating system that make the apartment feel far more contemporary than it is. On one side the apartment building circles around an inner, private courtyard. On the other it faces outward to the busy city.

The roof top terrace was the most exciting part of the building for me. Gaudí created harmony in all of the elements of his buildings, always embracing beauty and natural forms.

The curves on the front of the building are mirrored in the dipping and swooping of the rooftop. The architectural sculptures on the roof are fully functional and encompass stairwells, ventilation towers and chimneys. And the rooftop gives a fabulous view of the L’Eixample and Sagrada Familia beyond.

Going to Parc Guëll, we had a different view of the city.

Parc Guell — The entrance to Parc Guëll with the city and ocean beyond

Funded by Count Eusibi Guëll, the park was originally envisioned as a housing site on a rocky hill with little vegetation called Muntanya Pelada (Bare Mountain). Sixty houses were planned, but in the end there were no buyers, so Gaudi designed the site as a fantastical public garden, filled with symbolic, historical and spiritual elements.

The focal point of the main entrance is a huge mosaic dragon that curves around to become a large terrace surrounded by mosaicked benches. Apparently Gaudí used the impression of a workman’s buttocks in wet clay to give him the shape he wanted for the curvature of the bench. It is a wonderfully social space, and the curves invite weary buttocks to rest. Small groups cluster on the benches. There is a feeling of intimacy and privacy.

Weird and wonderful stone columns create walkways amidst thick vegetation.

Mock Parakeets flit through the trees. We walked away from the main tourist area, to the quiet of some stone archways. A lone classical guitar player was playing soft sounds that resonated off the stone and into our hearts. A human creating beautiful sounds on a simple instrument. As the park bathed us in organic shapes and texture, natural and manmade, the music completed the experience. Gaudí and a simple street musician, brought us to a sense of home.

Barcelona. Passion made visible.

Our friends David and Hinda escaped the ice and snow of Canada to meet up with us in Barcelona. We share a love of architecture, art, food and wine. Barcelona was the perfect place to rendezvous.

The first thing that struck us when we arrived was that the signs were in Catalan, English and Spanish. Barcelona is the capital of Catalunya, the centre of the world for more than 7.5 million Catalunians. Tim and I had been immersing ourselves in regional cultures of Italy but we had never been to Spain and thought of it as a solid mass. We were soon in a crash course learning about the exciting region of Catalunya.

The city of Barcelona has a population of 1.7 million, but Barcelona’s influence and importance far exceeds its size with a surrounding metropolitan area of 5 million people. It is a city with a proud history, and a city that has made very conscious decisions about its growth.

The city’s original Roman roots can still be seen in the Ciutat Vella (the old city). In the 19^th century, L’Eixample (the expansion) was built to connect the old city with surrounding communities. L’Eixample was designed along a grid system with the corners lopped off (chamfered corners). Buildings were built on these octagonal blocks and the resulting intersections are more spacious with greater visibility than in ordinary grids. Courtyards for residents were built in the centre of each block, and the whole area was designed to ensure that there were markets and schools within each 10-block radius.

It is a city with a fascinating mixture of styles, architectural ideas, city planning and happenstance with the people placed firmly at the centre.

We began by taking the funicular up Muntanya de Montjuïc. The original fortifications for the city were built here, affording a view of the city and the port beyond.

Walking through the gardens we began to get a sense of the city as we headed for our first architectural pilgrimage, the Mies van der Rohe “Barcelona Pavilion”.

The Barcelona Pavilion was actually built as the German Pavilion for the 1929 International Exposition in Barcelona. An icon of modern architecture, it is known for its simple form and straight lines that guide the visitor’s movement through the space.

Made with marble, onyx, glass and travertine, it was designed to be the exhibit, not to house an exhibit.

It contains a single sculpture and 4 “Barcelona Chairs” of van der Rohe design. It was envisioned as a “zone of tranquility”, for the weary exhibition traveller.

The building was torn down following the Exhibition but reconstructed on its present site in 1983. Coming upon it as we did, in a park overlooking a city of curvature, of buildings created to mirror organic shapes and reflect human usage, it’s simplicity was a shock.

By contrast, construction on the Hospital de la Santa Creu began in 1902 as a vast project to respond to the expanded needs of a growing city. Designed by Lluís Domènech i Montaner, the Hospital de la Santa Creu i de Sant Pau opened in 1930.

With 48 different health care pavilions, it functioned as a city within a city, with ingenious tunnels between buildings and gardens and open spaces for patients.

In 1987, UNESCO declared The Hospital de la Santa Creu i de Sant Pau a world heritage site. Hospital functions were moved to a new location and in 2009 a new project began, the Sant Pau Historic SiteThe original buildings are being restored, and will be the home for an exciting international think-tank.

Working with the United Nations University Institute for the Alliance of Civilizations, Sant Pau aims to collaborate with various international organizations to generate new solutions for environmental, financial and social problems facing the Mediterranean. Through an alliance of nations and cultures, it is envisioned as an “incubator for new ideas”.

“…different ways to approach the issues and find solutions, by mixing corporate enterprise with social groups, and by mixing social groups with international bodies, with universities, with centres of research…” Gemma Sendra, director of St. Pau’s Historical Site.

Visiting the site, which is under reconstruction, we were struck by the beauty and the infinite optimism. This is a city that believes in its history and in its place in the world. The architecture is a home for ideas and it continually reflects the boldness of the city’s vision.

We ended our day of architectural exploration with an evening walk along the boardwalk and onto the beach to see people building castles in the sand. A city of contradictions and passion made visible. A city of the people.

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