Day Two: Take Me To Church, Seeing The Light, Silencio Por Favor, Classic Iron Butterfly, “The Elevator List”, Crypt-ic Message, This Old House, Feeling Blue, Up On The Roof (Part Dos), Tops Of The Tapas, Market Watch, The Dragon Lady, Borne Again, Music Courtesy Of Lluís Domènech, Suffering Sciatica, Setting A Good Eixample, Dinner #1, Pop Goes Dessert, The Dancing Fountains, My Big Fat Spanish Wedding and Our Second Dinner
We awoke early to glorious blue skies and inquired at the hotel desk whether we could walk to La Sagrada Familia. The man smiled and said, “It’s too far for feet.” After much sole-searching, although I’m not a loafer, a taxi seemed like the prudent solution (both for the journey and to ensure we didn’t have a marital spat).
As we would find out, especially in Barcelona and Madrid, taxis are the perfect mode of transportation, and even more so in our case where we split the cab fare. The 15-minute ride from the nearby taxi stand to La Sagrada Familia was €7.50.
The work on the “Church of the Holy Family” started in 1882 and, of course, was incomplete by the time Antoni Gaudí got run over by a tram (isn’t that a Spanish Christmas song?) in 1926. He supposedly told people, “My client (God) is no hurry,” but we were in a hurry because we had 9 a.m. timed tickets. There was a massive line in front of the church for people hoping to purchase tickets. There was hardly any line in the back where people with pre-purchased tickets waited to enter.
While Mary and Tracy got in the 9 a.m. queue, Kim and I ran across the street to take photos of the church that is still an incomplete structure. We had to crane our necks as we looked at this bizarre edifice. Speaking of cranes, there are plenty of them here…so many that I think the only cranes missing were Frazier, Niles, and Bob.
Then Kim and I saw our wives frantically waving to us. We smiled and waved back. It wasn’t because they missed us. The 9 o’clock line to go in was moving… rather quickly. We got back just in time. It’s always nice to see Kim get “the look” sometimes.
We proceeded to pick up our audio guides (outside, just after you enter the front courtyard), and after listening about its history while looking at this edifice up close…
I didn’t know what to expect after reading so many overwhelming glowing comments, but we were ready for something to “wow” us to the max. In retrospect, La Sagrada Familia did “wow” us…it just took a while for the “wow factor” to sink in. I think Kim’s impressions regarding our initial thoughts say it well.
“At the moment, Sagrada Familia was a disappointment. I think this was because the hype created unreal expectations. It’s smaller than expected, and I guess less ornate (I think that is the modernist goal).”
However, as the trip went on…well, probably by lunchtime…and then looking at our photos, we thought back and marveled at what we had seen. If you take away the pre-game hype, Sagrada Familia truly is an incredible achievement.
I don’t know the exact translation, but I figured it meant to keep your yap shut while inside. As we found out, not too many people read or follow the sign directions. If you want silence, I suggest you attend a San Diego Padres game, not Sagrada Familia. Between the boisterous tourists and the constant sound of construction equipment (nothing says a silent prayer like a jack-hammer), we couldn’t believe how loud Sagrada Familia became, and the constant plea of “Shss” was heard (and unheeded) at least a dozen times. By 9:30, Sagrada Familia was rocking and, as it turned out, so was I.
As we stood gazing at the incredibly stained glass windows, a song suddenly and inexplicably popped into my head. Since the church already sounded like a rock concert, I turned to the group and in my best Iron Butterfly impression sang out, “In Sagrada Familia, honey, don’t you know that I love you.”
…as did one of Judas giving Jesus that fateful, betrayal kiss. Check out that tile to the left of the statue. It’s like a religious Sudoku. All the rows add up to 33, which is the age of Jesus at his crucifixion.
We had 10:15 reservations to visit The Nativity Tower, and at the appointed hour a small group took a very small elevator to the top. We crossed a slightly vertiginous bridge and before you could say, “Why did we book this?” we were on a spiral staircase heading back down. We had expected more of the tower, and in hindsight, it was not worth the effort (although the pictures turned out pretty good).
In subsequent days, whenever we visited something that we thought could be skipped, we would put it on our “Elevator List.”
It will be interesting to see if (1) Sagrada Familia will be completed in 2026 and (2) if I’m alive on the centennial of Gaudí’s death. If I were a betting man (and I am), I’d say, “Nada” (hopefully that’s an incorrect answer on question #2).
A short taxi ride away stood our next destination…Casa Batlló, a Gaudí 1905 renovation of a structure that’s design represents the patron saint of Catalonia, Saint George, and that pesky dragon. The house belonged to the wealthy aristocrat, Josep Batlló (who hired Gaudí), and his family. It’s located on “The Block Of Discord,” which I thought was a street where Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton lived next door to each other. It’s a block along Passeig de Gràcia that contains many modernist buildings, including Casa Batlló.
The line to get into Casa Batlló stretched a long, long way, but we had purchased “Fast Pass” tickets online before leaving for Spain. The Fast Pass price of €5 extra per ticket allows one to visit anytime while also circumventing the line (worth €5 to us), which we happily did while having our UNESCO card stamped for the second time on that day.
Nicknamed “The House Of Bones,” Casa Batlló, with its skull and bones exterior, is unique, to say the least. The interior is dazzling to the eye, as well. We picked up an audio/video guide that was as unique as the house. The video guide displayed what the rooms in the house would have looked like furnished.
We started in the lounge, which overlooks Passeig de Gràcia (aka “Gracias”). Although the layout seemed rather unlivable (where the hell do you put a big screen?), I enjoyed visiting all the rooms. Obviously, Gaudí never met a straight line he couldn’t curve.
…then up the staircase, we ascended.
We stopped by the Attic Room before descending.
Mary tried the fried egg tossed on a bed of shoestring potatoes and said it was “eggscellent.” Tracy opted for the steak sandwich flauta (on a baguette), while Kim enjoyed a Chorizo flauta and grilled shrimp.
Our waitress told us the best thing on the menu was the catfish. Mary, who doesn’t particularly like cats but has never met a fish she didn’t like, ordered it and said it was “the Cat’s Meow” while calling me a “pussy” for not trying it.
People were merrily eating and drinking while musicians played nearby. It was electric.
After a little more walking and after seeing our 100th store selling Messi jerseys…
… and after a quick stop for gelato (try the melone) at Mamma (mamma and son got in the act)…
…for a power siesta on a warm afternoon. Twenty minutes later (sleep is entirely overrated for these travel warriors), out the door we walked toward the Palau de la Música Catalana, where we had 3 p.m. reservations. I could see one of our members was not perambulating as quickly as the others. Kim, who has suffered some back problems over the years, told us he was feeling a pain similar to sciatica.
In my best W.C. Fields imitation, I shouted out, “Suffering Sciatica!” (stream It’s A Gift….a Fields’ classic). Sure it wasn’t the nicest thing to yell out, but after 45 years of knowing one another, sympathy is not our best trait. We walked (slowly) toward what would become one of our favorite sights in Barcelona. Once again those UNESCO cards would have come in handy.
Palau de la Música Catalana had been described as “one of the world’s most extraordinary music halls.” This time, the building more than lived up to the hype. The outside of Palau de la Música Catalana (constructed between 1905 and 1908) is gorgeous. We (and others waiting for the tour) stood at the front of the building as our time drew near to enter. There was no one inside, and although we were at the ticket window, we sensed something was amiss (besides Kim’s back).
Since our tour was to start shortly and no one seemed to be in our vicinity, we walked around the corner at the left of the front of the building where the not-very-well-marked entrance for the tour is located through the courtyard of a modern brick building.
Our pleasant tour guide played a movie showing the history of the building, designed by the “Father Of Neo-Modernism,” Domènech I Montaner, whose window design we had seen from the Casa Batlló courtyard. We were taken up to a beautiful salon located on the second floor. When people standing underneath the light fixture were told how much that puppy weighed, they scattered as if Bill Cosby was about to enter the room.
We rolled over Beethoven, but I couldn’t find Tchaikovsky to tell him the news.
Afterward, we headed over to the Borne district again. Our traveling companions had visited El Born CC (10cc’s big brother) the day before we arrived and thought we might like to see the ruins contained within. Being Monday, there was no labor at El Born. It was closed (Kim had taken this photo before we arrived).
On the way back to Hotel Colon, we ducked in the Església de Santa Maria del Mar (at Plaça de Santa Maria), which dates from the 1300s.
We had tried to go in the previous evening on the way to dinner, but they were having services.
Speaking of ruins, it looked like Kim’s back might ruin their evening, so they stayed at the hotel while Tracy and I set off for L’Eixample to meet a friend of a friend of ours, who happens to have read some of my trip reports. Amazingly, even after reading them she still wanted to meet us for what we thought was going to be dinner. We took a taxi to Mont Bar, Carrer de la Diputació, 220.
Arriving a bit early, Tracy and I walked a couple of blocks in this beautiful area. When we returned to the restaurant/bar, we heard “Are you MaitaiTom and Tracy?” Looking to make sure it wasn’t a policeman who heard me singing Iron Butterfly in church, we said hello to Shannon.
Mont Bar is a quaint little wine bar with lots of fresh flowers including peonies and lilies (you can tell those are from Tracy’s notes). It has a selection of tapas and small dishes, but 7:30 was a little early for Shannon to eat, so instead she and Tracy shared a bottle of wine, while I was back on the wagon for a few more days and gulped down iced tea, which after a long day of walking tasted really good.
Shannon runs tours in Spain and was about ready to leave to start another one the following day (maybe that will be my next gig). Although Shannon didn’t want dinner, the bottomless pit and his wife needed some sustenance after another long day of sightseeing.
We ordered tapas of chicken cannelloni with truffles and a salad with Burrata. Both were very, very good.
Then came the exploding dessert…literally. I ordered French Toast with an apple on top. At first description, that doesn’t sound like an earth-shattering dessert choice. However, after he set the dish down in front of me, the waiter told Tracy to use her spoon to pop the “apple” that had white chocolate on top. She “popped” it and the apple exploded with a yolk of apricot and anise (fireworks on a plate). I might travel back to Barcelona just to eat that dish again (our first “Wow” dish of the trip) and wash it down with some vino next time.
About 9:30, we bid “buenas noches” to Shannon and decided to walk back to the hotel. After a few blocks, Tracy and I looked at each other and simultaneously said, “I’m starving.”
Strolling past the beautifully lit fountains at Plaça de Catalunya, soon we found ourselves back in our ‘hood. It was after 10 p.m., a time in Barcelona when many people start eating dinner. It’s the time I usually start snoring.
Dead ahead we saw Els Quatre Cats and took a glance inside. It looked like nobody was dining, but the woman outside asked if we had reservations. We kind of laughed and said, “no,” and she replied she had one table open.
“Really,” we thought. The place was empty…or so it seemed. We walked to the back (the empty tables turned out to be a breakfast room where we would eat our last day). As we were led through the door to the Els Quatre Cats dining area, suddenly we found ourselves in the middle of something right out of the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
Up on stage, musicians were drinking ouzo (well, maybe not ouzo…but they were drinking), singing and playing guitar, while people were eating, drinking and singing. We were taken up a narrow stairway and seated on a precarious balcony (since were at Els Quatre Cats, it must have been a catwalk).
We perused the menu for just a few minutes. It didn’t look like there were any small plates to choose from, and since it was 10:15 the menu said to me “Acid Reflux buddy, you better run like hell.”
We felt awful because it looked like a happening place, but discretion being the better part of valor (whatever that means), after carefully negotiating the steps (and I was sober!) we made a feline for the front door on tiny cat feet. After we were outside, I felt guilty. “We should have at least left some money in the kitty,” I said.
Right down the street from Els Quatre Cats is the restaurant Melic del Gòtic (which, unbeknownst to us, was where Kim and Mary dined the first night…obviously much earlier than us judging by the photo).
We were seated right away, and Tracy had some toast with do-it-yourself tomato and garlic (so much for that late night make-out session), while I ordered very good gnocchi that would provide a good test for my new anti-reflux medicine…actually the entire trip would be a good test).
Satiated, we took the short stroll back to our hotel. Once again, there would be no sleeping in tomorrow. We had yet another date with Mr. Gaudí at 9 a.m. Tomorrow would also be the day we would enjoy our biggest surprise of the vacation. Unlike many surprises this crew has encountered on previous sojourns (the great petrol screw-up of 2005 always comes to mind), this event turned out to be an eye-opening pleasure.
After visiting the Palau de la Música Catalana, we were already very impressed with Catalan architect Domènech I Montaner. The following day, however, we would be further wowed by his awe-inspiring talents when we just happened to drop by what would become our favorite overall sight in Barcelona and one of the top places we visited in all of España.
Next – Day Three: Up On The Roof (Part Tres), Another Familia View, A Lovely Gaudí Walk, MaiTaiTom Is Admitted To The Hospital, “Kingdom Of Health,” I Think I’m Done With Tapas, Tracy Is Definitely Done With Ruins, Museum Stays Off Elevator List…Barely, Rodney Dangerfield Lives, Take My Wife…Please, A Nacional Treasure, Let’s Meat For Dinner and The Rain In Spain