Due to our late flight, by the time we were arrived, checked-in to our hotel, and settled, I was pretty drained. Thus, I just met up briefly with other friends in Barcelona at this bar called Dow Jones (the prices of drinks fluctuate and occasionally the stock market crashes and there are cheap drinks).
The next morning, Alex, Elise, and I got up and starting exploring. We walked past a number of the Gaudí houses (for those of you who don't know Gaudí, he's a big deal architect in Barcelona, so I recommend a quick google search, or rather even, a quick google images search), in particular Casa Batlló. Then we strolled through some plazas, enjoying the sun beaming down on us as we gazed upon the fountains, flowers, and incredible architecture.
Casa Batlló
More Gaudí architecture
Don't recall the plaza name
Shoo pigeons, shoo!
I hope your wish comes/came true, Elise!
Elise and Alex
Next, we met up with friends (Dylan, Varun, Dan, etc.) to go to the Hospital. Yes, the hospital. The Hospital de Sant Pau is a UNESCO World Heritage Site that no longer functions as an actual hospital. However, right next to it is a current, standard hospital, so initially upon getting off the metro and seeing patients in casts walking into an average-looking hospital building, we thought Alex had legitimately just brought us to a hospital. Unfortunately, the Heritage Site Hospital was undergoing construction when we went so wasn't quite as scenic as normal, but was still worth seeing.
Just try and use your imagination to what it looks like regularly..
Afterwards, we wandered over to La Sagrada Familia, a church which is also coincidentally a World Heritage Site, and also coincidentally partly designed by Gaudi. From the outside, this building is absolutely breathtaking, even despite the cranes as it is always under construction. Then it was well worth the long wait to go inside, as it was almost as stunning on the inside as out. The interior (and exterior for that matter) was just so unique compared to all the other incredible churches I have been blessed enough to see these past few months. As with each church I have seen though, I just had to sit and take it all in for half an hour or so. Despite the rush of touristing around trying to squeeze lots into a limited time, this is just one of those things you have to stop and marvel at. I would proceed to have a few other notable moments like this while in Barcelona.
Exterior pictures of La Sagrada Familia:
Interior pictures of La Sagrada Familia:
The next day was jam-packed with wonderfulness, all of which was made better by the beautiful, sunny-skied weather. I met up with Dylan that morning and we went for a stroll down La Rambla, the major central street in Barcelona. We poked around the Mercat de la Boqueria and sampled food and such as we deemed fit. We then grabbed some lunch to go and walked down to the coast and ate on the dock. Beyond content, we continued strolling along the coast.
(Oh, and now is also a convenient time to introduce our obsession with statue posing. Dylan is just really, really good at it.)
After a while, we hopped back onto the metro and made our way over to the Gaudi park. We started by making a huge ascent up to the top, where we were greeted with stunning overhead views of the city. We continued our ascent, all the way to the tallest point of the mountain, which happens to be the incredible, awe-inspiring Las Tres Cruces. Although there are no true words to capture the experience, the closest word I can come to is spiritual. Sitting at the top of the mountain, overlooking the entirety of Barcelona, with not even a tree reaching above me to obstruct my presence in the sky, but sitting alone in the shadows of the stone cross behind me on the day before Good Friday... I can't explain. It is one of those moments I will look back on for the rest of my life in sheer awe at the blessings and opportunities I have been given.
After a significant amount of time of reflection at the peak, Dylan and I made our way down at last to explore the inner twists and turns of the park, some busy with tourists and street performers, and others wonderfully secluded. By the end, we finally arrived on the actual Gaudi part of the Gaudi park, studded with mosaic statues and architecture. This was also incredibly lovely, but in the shadows of the haunting intimacy at Las Tres Cruces, the basic part of the park with its crowds of camera-yielding tourists stalking about, it simply couldn't compare.
But still the day didn't end there. We went back closer to the city centre again and hopped off the metro by the Arc de Triomf. We walked along a lively road of rollerskaters and skateboarders until we made our way to the Parc de la Ciutadella. At this point it was almost laughable to once again find ourselves by something as breathtakingly beautiful as the central fountain. To cap a perfect day, we rented a boat in a lake in the park, and enjoyed a peaceful sunset on the water watching a family of baby ducks jump into the water around us.
The next day, the experience known as Barcelona just picked up where it left off, though at this point I was doubting that was possible. We started the morning with a nutritious breakfast of chocolate and churros. Then Dylan and I made our way to the Picasso museum. It was really well-done, organized chronologically. The highlight for us was the series of works he did interpreting Velazquez's famous work Las Meninas (which so happens I had seen in person just earlier that week at El Prado in Madrid). My favorite part is that before you walk in the room holding Picasso's interpretations, there is a sign with a quote from Picasso that reads: "If someone want to copy Las Meninas, entirely in good faith, for example, upon reaching a certain point and if that one was me, I would say..what if you put them a little more to the right or left? I'll try to do it my way, forgetting about Velázquez. The test would surely bring me to modify or change the light because of having changed the position of a character. So, little by little, that would be a detestable Meninas for a traditional painter, but would be my Meninas." And then, you walk in and see this (okay, not actually this one, but after desperation on the internet I couldn't find the one we saw, but you still will get the gist):
Don't get me wrong, I love Picasso and really enjoyed these works, but the juxtaposition of that quote to the pieces he made left me laughing out loud, as I think he did a little more than "put them a little more to the right" or "change the light." (Coincidentally, the phrase "yellow triangle girl" has now worked its way into Dylan's and my vocabulary).
For lunch, we grabbed some baguettes and sangria (that counts as lunch, right?) and headed to the beach. We sat peacefully in the sand, listening to the tide and enjoying the light breeze.
After a nice long rest, we this time headed westbound towards Montjuic, the mountain. Once there, we took a lift up to the top of a former Olympic arena (which had been repurposed as a shopping complex), which had stunning views overlooking the Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya and the fountains.
Then, we briefly strolled through the neighboring Dali park (pictured above) before making our way back to the fountains.
As we approached the museum and the fountains, it was quite a strange sensation. From a distance it was stunning. Then every 10 feet or so I would continue to marvel as the view became crisper and would take another picture. Then the next 10 feet after, I felt the same way again. And then again. And again. Then once we'd actually arrived, each level of steps and fountains had a uniquely stunning view both directions. Then... the fountain show.
For those of you who have seen the fountain show in Vegas (I have not), supposedly, that one was inspired by Barcelona's. And I can understand why, "inspiring" is one of the best words I can think of to describe it. On Friday and Saturday nights, the fountain show happens every half hour starting at 7. But considering the show is around 25 minutes, it's basically just one long continuous show. For the first show at 7, Dylan and I were at the very top of the steps and, trying to find a good view amidst the crowds, we made a pleasant discovery. In front of one of the rails people were crowded behind, the ledge continued for a few more feet. So, Dylan and I happily hopped the ledge and sat with our feet dangling over the fountain, enjoying one of the best views in the house.
Around halfway through the first show one of the jets of water from the fountain we were dangling over redirected so as to shower us at our prime seats, but still beyond all notions of the word happy, we started making our way back down the stairs, again appreciating the different views at each level and angle. And throughout this show the sun had continued setting, so as if it couldn't be more beautiful, there was that.
For the second show at 7:30, Dylan and I went right to the bottom by the main fountain, this time enjoying looking up at the fountains and views. The moment was like none other I have experienced. I just remember standing there, soaking it all in, and reflecting on how truly happy I was, and how I would remember that precise moment forever, until my grave and beyond. And I know this all sounds rather corny, but as I was standing there, I found salty tears rolling down my cheeks. I was just so thankful to be sharing that moment with Dylan, as he can also see the beauty in moments like that. In fact, the entirety of Barcelona would've been entirely different if I didn't have him to share it with, and for that I am truly grateful.
As we stood there at the base of all this beauty, we just looked at each other and reflected on the completeness of our Barcelona experience, and how we were ready to hop on a plane then and there as this was the cap to one of the most amazing experiences of my life. With full hearts, we wrapped up our final hours by some final tapas with the whole gang and then a quick nap before heading to the airport at 4am to catch our 6am flight (for 15 pounds, I don't care what hour I have to fly).
If you're still reading this post, I apologize for the overdose of sappyness and the complete absence of humorous comic reliefs to break it up. But at the same time I don't, because the beauty of this blog is, while I've told you all I am writing it to most efficiently keep you all informed on my adventures, that's not completely true. It's also for me. To try and capture a bit of the emotion and beauty in as real a form as possible to what I was actually feeling and experiencing. Because I want to remember how I felt as I sat beneath those crosses overlooking the world of God's grand creation, or how I felt as I stood beneath the fountains with the mist brushing against my tear-stained cheeks. And as I write this, I feel that a bit again. And every time I read it, be it years from now, I hope to again. So that every day for the rest of my life I can thank God for and never take for granted all the blessings I have had. So that is the truth of my blog, and that is the truth, in the best but still blaringly insufficient words that I can conjure, of my trip to Barcelona. And even if only one or two people read this, thanks for sharing that with me.
Exterior pictures of La Sagrada Familia:
(this one is stolen from the internet so you can get an idea of the scale)
Dylan and I
Interior pictures of La Sagrada Familia:
(okay, all of these are internet-stolen, mine just didn't do it justice)
The next day was jam-packed with wonderfulness, all of which was made better by the beautiful, sunny-skied weather. I met up with Dylan that morning and we went for a stroll down La Rambla, the major central street in Barcelona. We poked around the Mercat de la Boqueria and sampled food and such as we deemed fit. We then grabbed some lunch to go and walked down to the coast and ate on the dock. Beyond content, we continued strolling along the coast.
(Oh, and now is also a convenient time to introduce our obsession with statue posing. Dylan is just really, really good at it.)
Grumpy mustache man
Mercat Boqueria
Port de Barcelona
Limp man
Dear Barcelona, I love you.
A lot.
D'aww.
After a while, we hopped back onto the metro and made our way over to the Gaudi park. We started by making a huge ascent up to the top, where we were greeted with stunning overhead views of the city. We continued our ascent, all the way to the tallest point of the mountain, which happens to be the incredible, awe-inspiring Las Tres Cruces. Although there are no true words to capture the experience, the closest word I can come to is spiritual. Sitting at the top of the mountain, overlooking the entirety of Barcelona, with not even a tree reaching above me to obstruct my presence in the sky, but sitting alone in the shadows of the stone cross behind me on the day before Good Friday... I can't explain. It is one of those moments I will look back on for the rest of my life in sheer awe at the blessings and opportunities I have been given.
I can't even... What this picture alone evokes in me could make me cry
Hi Barcelona
Soli Deo Gloria
Photocred to Dylan
After a significant amount of time of reflection at the peak, Dylan and I made our way down at last to explore the inner twists and turns of the park, some busy with tourists and street performers, and others wonderfully secluded. By the end, we finally arrived on the actual Gaudi part of the Gaudi park, studded with mosaic statues and architecture. This was also incredibly lovely, but in the shadows of the haunting intimacy at Las Tres Cruces, the basic part of the park with its crowds of camera-yielding tourists stalking about, it simply couldn't compare.
Yeah this tends to happen when you're my friend
Note the lack of sleeves, Barca oh how I love you
More Gaudi houses
But still the day didn't end there. We went back closer to the city centre again and hopped off the metro by the Arc de Triomf. We walked along a lively road of rollerskaters and skateboarders until we made our way to the Parc de la Ciutadella. At this point it was almost laughable to once again find ourselves by something as breathtakingly beautiful as the central fountain. To cap a perfect day, we rented a boat in a lake in the park, and enjoyed a peaceful sunset on the water watching a family of baby ducks jump into the water around us.
If you look closely, Dylan is making a "triumphant" pose at the bottom
Parc de la Ciutadella
Why can't I be normal ever?
Statue modeling continues
And just regular modeling continues on the boat
Baby ducklings getting up the courage to jump in...
And happy duckling family :)
The next day, the experience known as Barcelona just picked up where it left off, though at this point I was doubting that was possible. We started the morning with a nutritious breakfast of chocolate and churros. Then Dylan and I made our way to the Picasso museum. It was really well-done, organized chronologically. The highlight for us was the series of works he did interpreting Velazquez's famous work Las Meninas (which so happens I had seen in person just earlier that week at El Prado in Madrid). My favorite part is that before you walk in the room holding Picasso's interpretations, there is a sign with a quote from Picasso that reads: "If someone want to copy Las Meninas, entirely in good faith, for example, upon reaching a certain point and if that one was me, I would say..what if you put them a little more to the right or left? I'll try to do it my way, forgetting about Velázquez. The test would surely bring me to modify or change the light because of having changed the position of a character. So, little by little, that would be a detestable Meninas for a traditional painter, but would be my Meninas." And then, you walk in and see this (okay, not actually this one, but after desperation on the internet I couldn't find the one we saw, but you still will get the gist):
Velazquez's Las Meninas.....
Picasso's....
Don't get me wrong, I love Picasso and really enjoyed these works, but the juxtaposition of that quote to the pieces he made left me laughing out loud, as I think he did a little more than "put them a little more to the right" or "change the light." (Coincidentally, the phrase "yellow triangle girl" has now worked its way into Dylan's and my vocabulary).
For lunch, we grabbed some baguettes and sangria (that counts as lunch, right?) and headed to the beach. We sat peacefully in the sand, listening to the tide and enjoying the light breeze.
Beach (in case you couldn't tell)
Then, we briefly strolled through the neighboring Dali park (pictured above) before making our way back to the fountains.
More statue posing, please ignore bad lighting
Pretend it looks like this instead
As we approached the museum and the fountains, it was quite a strange sensation. From a distance it was stunning. Then every 10 feet or so I would continue to marvel as the view became crisper and would take another picture. Then the next 10 feet after, I felt the same way again. And then again. And again. Then once we'd actually arrived, each level of steps and fountains had a uniquely stunning view both directions. Then... the fountain show.
Yeah this was randomly on the side somewhere...
For those of you who have seen the fountain show in Vegas (I have not), supposedly, that one was inspired by Barcelona's. And I can understand why, "inspiring" is one of the best words I can think of to describe it. On Friday and Saturday nights, the fountain show happens every half hour starting at 7. But considering the show is around 25 minutes, it's basically just one long continuous show. For the first show at 7, Dylan and I were at the very top of the steps and, trying to find a good view amidst the crowds, we made a pleasant discovery. In front of one of the rails people were crowded behind, the ledge continued for a few more feet. So, Dylan and I happily hopped the ledge and sat with our feet dangling over the fountain, enjoying one of the best views in the house.
View from our ledge right before the show started
Showtime
Around halfway through the first show one of the jets of water from the fountain we were dangling over redirected so as to shower us at our prime seats, but still beyond all notions of the word happy, we started making our way back down the stairs, again appreciating the different views at each level and angle. And throughout this show the sun had continued setting, so as if it couldn't be more beautiful, there was that.
For the second show at 7:30, Dylan and I went right to the bottom by the main fountain, this time enjoying looking up at the fountains and views. The moment was like none other I have experienced. I just remember standing there, soaking it all in, and reflecting on how truly happy I was, and how I would remember that precise moment forever, until my grave and beyond. And I know this all sounds rather corny, but as I was standing there, I found salty tears rolling down my cheeks. I was just so thankful to be sharing that moment with Dylan, as he can also see the beauty in moments like that. In fact, the entirety of Barcelona would've been entirely different if I didn't have him to share it with, and for that I am truly grateful.
As we stood there at the base of all this beauty, we just looked at each other and reflected on the completeness of our Barcelona experience, and how we were ready to hop on a plane then and there as this was the cap to one of the most amazing experiences of my life. With full hearts, we wrapped up our final hours by some final tapas with the whole gang and then a quick nap before heading to the airport at 4am to catch our 6am flight (for 15 pounds, I don't care what hour I have to fly).
If you're still reading this post, I apologize for the overdose of sappyness and the complete absence of humorous comic reliefs to break it up. But at the same time I don't, because the beauty of this blog is, while I've told you all I am writing it to most efficiently keep you all informed on my adventures, that's not completely true. It's also for me. To try and capture a bit of the emotion and beauty in as real a form as possible to what I was actually feeling and experiencing. Because I want to remember how I felt as I sat beneath those crosses overlooking the world of God's grand creation, or how I felt as I stood beneath the fountains with the mist brushing against my tear-stained cheeks. And as I write this, I feel that a bit again. And every time I read it, be it years from now, I hope to again. So that every day for the rest of my life I can thank God for and never take for granted all the blessings I have had. So that is the truth of my blog, and that is the truth, in the best but still blaringly insufficient words that I can conjure, of my trip to Barcelona. And even if only one or two people read this, thanks for sharing that with me.
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