On board Iberia flight to Barcelona, I unwrap the small package of swag: earplugs, this 4 inch long pen rolled into a plastic water bottle with a pair of green and blue sleep socks. A green blue blanket acts as a pillow. Many seats are open on this Boston/Barcelona direct overnight flight. Maybe a pre-Olympics schedule? Level Air is an offshoot of Iberia. We forget to tell them about pre-check so we weave thru the long lines in advance of boarding at 11:30 pm. Turns out I didn’t have to take my shoes off. This distinction is a qualification for those of us of a certain era that coincides with the reason I am taking this trip – to celebrate same. Hiking in the Pyrenees? Why not? Let’s see how it goes!
Barcelona is second largest airport in Spain. We plan for a couple of days, really my first time, thought I was here in an earlier life at age 11 with my aunt and uncle and their son, just my age. I confess that the grade school perspective pops up all through my travels. My visual recollections are powerful in that unreliable memory sort of way. For instance, I insist on a walk to the beaches (today popular, rebuilt, and recreated for the ’92 Olympics). My memory from 1960 is the campsite where the VW bus made a last full stop on our three month European tour. My artist uncle left on a train to Madrid to see the Prado and the cathedrals while my aunt stayed with my travel weary cousin and me. I remember the stoney sand, the low waves of the Mediterranean and the warm sort of salty water. I remember the restaurant shacks and the water hoses to wash off your feet. And I remember the unfinished cathedral that looked like dripping sand castles. I remember it was wonderful living there.
Arrival:
Our first stop is the hotel after the upright overnight flight, the long lines to find our bags, the weary customs officials, the airport ATM machine for euros. **[https://hotelbrummell.brummellprojects.com/]**The Brummell does not disappoint. They are ready for us at 1 pm. We joke with the cheerful bilingual concierge about the best way to overcome jet lag – two choices: stay up or nap. We choose to nap! Only 20 rooms at this truly boutique house. Ours has a small balcony with windows that open to the view of the hillside of trails known as the Montjic with several gardens on seven kilometers of trails. I have to turn away to rest. A newly appointed bathroom feels luxurious. We discover clustered sofa areas around a tiny courtyard pool that creates a lovely outdoor environment. There’s a room for a sauna and sitting area. The breakfast is served with a personal buffet on a three story tray. Everyone seems to be at “home”.
We wake in a couple of hours, the walk about the city is up and down hills, along quiet streets of tapa bars. We discover a wonderful dinner at the Elche Restaurant in a corner building. No problem reserving for the early seating at 8:30 even though it is a Monday. It’s a fifty year old family place known for seafood. We wait for the paella for two with a starter of fried artichokes. Delicious! [https://elcherestaurant.es/]
First day:
The Picasso Museum calls. We had seen the one in Paris, finally reopened, last October. Today, it is a fascinating walk through the city neighborhoods to the museum housed in an ancient castle in the Ciuta Vella, the Gothic Quarter
Awaiting our timed entry, we cruise the gift shop that takes most of the ground floor chock full of merch.
We reacquaint with the phases and stages of the artist’s prolific career. One enormous floor of galleries features the many 1957 studies Picasso painted for Las Meninas based on the Diego Velazquez 1656 painting installed at the Prado Museum in Madrid. This is where the sculpture of the princess comes from.
Picasso painted many versions of pigeons or doves, following his father’s interest as an art teacher who painted studies of the birds.
The museum is packed, luckily it is a very polite audience so not an issue. People here from all over the world.
It is a windy meander to continue through the city to the boardwalk along the beach. We stop at the first place we see for a taco that I think will cost 8 euro. Nope, it says 18 euro on the sun-bleached worn menu. Ah well. Tourist travails. The motor yachts are amazing on this side of the port behind tall walls with gaps carefully spaced for sneak previews of the boats’ names and home ports, several from Australia. We can’t leave without stepping in to the stony sand and dabble our toes in the water, then go through the effort to get our feet back into the sneakers. The hoses I remember are still shut off for the season.
The Museum of the Catalonias is here and free today, Tuesday. The contemporary building houses two floors with ramps to each level of the exhibitions. We start upstairs, post 17th century. Although the exhibit is dated, we learn of the extra civil war in the mid 19th century, the impact of the 100 years war, the waves of citizens coalescing in the plazas in all eras, the plights of farmers, the world wars in walls of photographs, the completely unique peoples in Catalonia.
This is the day of Sant Jordi, an unexpected holiday for us, a little like Valentine’s. Catalonians give a rose or a book to express their love for their special one. Girls are in groups selling roses. Lot’s of people are carrying a single one. Many window sills are peppered with bunches of red roses.
While we wait for a roof top tour, we can walk the couple of blocks to the other Gaudi building, Casa Batilo, decked in red flowers pouring from window boxes just for the occasion. Masses of people cluster in the streets between book stalls and flower peddlers. Cell phones are clicking to capture selfies of couples in all directions. What a scene! (I’ve tried not to include anyone’s face in this pix, but many many heads!)
The 9 pm group tour omits the interiors of the apartments, but features the eight flights of stairs to the rooftop through expansive layout of wavy walls. I guess we are here to hike! The rooftop vistas feature the peculiar statues Gaudi created to hide the chimneys and air ducts as shapes that presumably guard the building(!). Simply remarkable architecture based on the strength of the arch and flowing natural lines that always avoiding rigid walls. Gaudi believed in the lines of nature.
The next morning, we pack up after a second delicious breakfast. We have an open hour before going to the train. We are eager to start the week of mountain hikes, we prep here up and down the city’s stairs. What a climb! one of many through the hills. The Miro Museum is a modern construct by architect Josep Luis Sert to create the signature home for the artist’s life and work. I snap a couple of pix as we stride through the main floor of galleries. Groups of children with docent teachers are here finding the resilient inspiration in his colorful playful pictures and assemblages. One work in Sala 11 is. With bold signature basic colors, Miro weaves brilliant yarns into a full wall of textured burlap, echoing an earlier work he did from the cloth of a farmer. This would be the place to study him. We catch glimpses of garden views heading back down the staircases to meet the taxi to the train station.
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