Barcelona

This past Friday I think I finally crossed the line into the worldly traveler by taking a little trip into Spain. For the first time in my life, I was immersed in a place where I didn't speak the language (save for a few labor terms, but that's another story) enough to really even get around. It wasn't as scary as it could have been, given that for the most part the Spanish are pretty nice people, and a lot of them speak English anyway. Regardless, as the airplane came upon the pine covered hills peaking over the low clouds, it suddenly dawned on me that I was not just in France, but in Europe. I know this sounds kind of idiotic, but I have been so immersed in French culture and Paris for the past few months that it was almost as if it had not occurred to me that I was on another continent all the way across a big, black sea. I had forgotten there were other countries here, too. That's a very French perspective, if you ask me. In any case, this realization came with a thrill and a little bit of homesickness - I was all the way across that big black ocean...

My first impression of Barcelona was that it was very different from anywhere I had been before. Certainly it belongs in no other place than Europe, but it was very different from even the other Mediterranean city I have seen, Marseille. Shortly after flying in, I met my friend Emily for lunch and a little walking tour. She took me to a set of Roman columns in the old Gothic quarter of the city. It was a bit surreal, taking random backalleys in the falling night amidst a backdrop of Gothic architecture and gently lit storefronts, all to see a cluster of decaying columns left there some thousands of years ago. I don't imagine I will ever get over how splendidly old Europe is. The rest of the tour took us down several grand boulevards, past two of Gaudi's houses, around a humongous monument to Christopher Columbus, and down along the Mediterranean. For dinner, we went to Emily's homestay, who had invited me over. She spoke very little English, but was essentially fluent in French. Her daughter could not speak French, but could speak English. The conversation at dinner, then, shifted freely between English, Spanish, and French. It was very interesting. I didn't expect to get a workout for my French while in Spain! But the Signora liked me very much, and complemented me on my French, which was very nice. It was also good to eat a homecooked meal. I can't remember the last time I did that.

The next day Emily was sick, so I was on my own to explore the city. I had made an itinerary for myself before leaving, so what I wanted to see and how to get to it, at least. The first thing I saw was Parc Guell, a large green space designed by the avant-garde architect Gaudi. At the edge of the park, shown here, was a monument park with buildings Gaudi had designed. What's amazing to know about Gaudi's style was that most of his works were designed in the late 1800s and early 1900s. He died in 1926, and looking at his buildings, that is hard to believe. They seem to belong in another universe.

From the park, I descended back down the high hill upon which it sat, and wandered about for a while, enjoying the different sights and smells that came to me. (maybe not all the smells) Then I arrived at the magnificent Sangrada Familia, another building designed by Gaudi. This one is still being built. It is far and away the largest cathedral I have ever seen. The picture does it no justice, and I don't imagine any picture could. It's facade is incredibly elaborate - it looks alive with statues. The back side of the cathedral appears as if it is melting, sliding down itself in gigantic drops which, upon closer inspection, are depictions of nature. For a solid hour I wandered in circles around the building. I didn't go in because it cost 10 Euro, and because I was very hungry. I went back to the Gothic quarter, location of the next stop on my itinerary - the Picasso Museum. I ate lunch at a nice little tapas bar and was served by an extremely friendly waitress who was the antithesis to my experiences eating in France. No language problems, no rudeness, no wisecracks - it was very refreshing. I think the Spanish, unlike the French, have realized that their time for grandeur and world-shaking has long passed. Now they are content to live their lives, and it's very evident. Things just felt much more relaxed in Barcelona.

The Picasso Museum had been highly recommended to me. I found it interesting, as it showed the progression of his work from the amateur days until his death, but Picasso has never been my favorite artist. The building, located in the Gothic quarter, was quite beautiful and a stark contrast to the artwork it contained. Leaving the museum and heading towards another cathedral, I ran into a few friends from one of my classes in Paris. We got drinks together and then I went back to my hostel to rest. Later, I met with my friend Suzanne, who had come with her class in Alicante to visit the city. We ended up at a party on the top floor of an apartment building. There were several French people there, and conversation was held in Spanish, Catalan, English and French. Sometimes I was listening in Spanish, responding the best I could in French, and then turning to another person to speak English. A few times I was mistaken for being French, which I guess means I play the part well. It was a great experience, but a little exhausting - particularly because the party did not end until 5am. I went back to my hostel, and slept for a few hours before grabbing my flight back to Paris.

Oddly, in spite of my increasing annoyance with the French, I was happy to be back in Paris. As with returning from Marseille, it was different to feel as if I was returning home when I knew I was not. Still, I think Paris suits me more than Barcelona, though I hope someday I can return to that city. I am not a fan of hot weather, especially the kind they get in Southern Spain, and it has been delightfully cool here these past few days. It also has seemed that all the leaves changed while I was gone. With another two days left before class, I took advantage of the weather to go to some new places. On Monday, I visited the Musee Cluny, Paris's Medieval History Museum. It is situated in an old Gothic manor, and it has a beautiful medieval garden around it, as well as a nice cobblestone courtyard. The best part, though, was that I arrived just in time to see a concert of medieval music performed. The concert took place in a large hall of the museum that shared a wall with the old Roman baths, and where old statues of headless kings from Notre Dame had been placed. This certainly added to the atmosphere. After the concert I went to see the famous tapestries of the Woman with the Unicorn, that Rilke in particular describes at length in one of my new favorite books The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge. It was great to see this crossroads between two works: the poetic description of a piece of art and the piece of art itself.

Yesterday was Armistice Day, commemorating the end of World War I. In America it is Veteran's Day. Strangely, we don't have a holiday for the end of World War II, either. I don't know the exact reason for this, but maybe it has something to do with what I have written about before - the difference between fear of war, and fear of the threat of war. In any case, I went to Chateau de Vincennes, just east of Paris. Because of the holiday, the chateau was closed, but I was able to wander around in the woods that once were frequented by the King of France - funny how royal hunting land is now where people go to jog and play. That's democracy in action, if I've ever seen it. I would say those woods were certainly fit for a king, though; I plan on returning to the chateau when it is open, and perhaps I will write more on it then.