Xavier n'est pas la
Yeah. This is it. The utterly simple, yet somewhat technically flavored concept of "public space". Seeing this amazing exhibit in Barcelona, a temporary exhibit on the historical power and significance of photography, came in the right array of citymania that embraced me since my early ages in not so very urban Novaci, when I was drawing cityscapes with chalk on the street asphalt. There is something about a city, about this complicated organism, this intricate system, this vibrant body, that is purely fascinating. And how one of my other passions is dealing with the past, I put them all together in how the city represents living memory and about how we deal with signs from the past. My last summer fling with German cities reconstruction after the horrendous World War II times and the connections with a transforming view on national identity will be definitely continued.
And all throughout my journeys in France I was very careful at the way how new generations have interpreted the city. France is advanced, I think, in bringing a city back to life : remarkable tramway projects that create a new urban landscape and make people forget about cars and traffic jams ( with really pretty trams in Strasbourg, Montpellier and Bordeaux- at least the ones I saw and work in progress, with city centers devastated by excavations in southerly Marseille and its more glamourous counterpart Nice), pedestrianized city centers almost everywhere, bike lanes etc. Barcelona had all this figured a long time ago: it's all in the Rambla.
Yes, Barcelona is made to be public space friendly. The Ramblas are pedestrian focused and their car lanes are so peripheric that they recall actually pedestrian sidewalks in most towns. There are floods of people going up and down, the center is all pedestrianized. But these ramblas are just amazing, graced with medieval architecture, pastel-colorful and laundry-loving in the Ciutat Vell, and Modernista extravagant in L'Eixample. Il Modernisme was an expression of the wealth that Catalunya experienced at the end of the 19th century, its industry being dynamic and competitive, and worlds apart from the sluggish rest of Spain, an expression of avant-garde, of being always in the forefront of Spain on cultural and social aspects ( it coincided with the development of anarcho-syndicalism and various forms of expression that defied norms), but also an expression of identity. Look, this is Catalan. This is splendid, this is extravagant, this is ours. Gaudi's Sagrada Familia has its more recent doors of the Passion Facade adorned with Catalan excerpts from the Bible, every building tries to reflect avant-garde while keeping on insisting on Catalan historical peculiarities, from the Gothic to to Baroque.
That Sagrada Familia is astonishing, there were too many praises before for me even to try. But other than the surreal feelings that it gives you and the impression of the ultimate church, combining them all and going further, it was the primary concept of Gaudi that got to me. Nature is the utter perfection and offers all the answers, so we should seek applying its concepts into the way we construct our cityscape and the individual buildings. And what is more eloquent than the balance that a tree has, with its capacity of holding together heavy branches, in a perfect equilibrium, said Gaudi. Therefore, the whole church is build around the idea of the tree, with the traditional columns and vaults being replaced by tree-like structures, creating somewhat like a thick forest.
Keeping my Modernista spirit, I embarked on my usual bus ride to get to Parc Guell, something that was supposed to be a sort of "garden city" for the wealthy, one one of Barcelona's northern hills, overlooking the entire city. The project was handled by Gaudi ( who actually lived there for 20 years, finding his death in the house that now is the Gaudi Museum), but Guell, the rich investor run out of funds and the Barcelona ajuntament ( city hall) seized the property and transformed it into this magnetic park, something completely out of this world, with colorful porcelain tiles, sculptures reminding of the Sagrada Familia, and fabulous views. There were so many people there though and I felt for the first time on this trip claustrophobic. And suddenly the feeling that you Sarah mentioned tried me. Desolate. The clouds came above them all, the clouds crept inside me and didn't let me go. I was there, on Barcelona's roof, surrounded by surreal, dreamy beauty, by color madness and by an overarching grey, lead heavy sky. And I felt this huge pressure. I needed somewhat like an outcry, I wanted to shout myself, but the sky exploded for me. And the diluge came, not to be stopped. The most terrible of rains, with all the tourists running around, the painting sellers running away. I heard some jazzy music, I ran towards it and I found this Gaudian pseudo huge umbrella where there were two musicians and some people sitting down on cold rocks. I took my Histoire des Espagnols that I bought in far away elegant red Montauban, I sat on it and I listened to the soothing music, to the Castellano that my neighbors were rapidly whispering and I watched the rain. It got more and more violent, with streams being formed everywhere.
I didn't seem to understand a single thing. Especially the very esoteric Castellano, with no word to be comprehended. Every five minutes, this poney-taled guy exclaimed looking at teh sky " ne, ne España!!!" and I realized it was an accusing cry, rain induced of some visitor to Hispanic lands. So I asked shyly this lady which language were they actually speaking, as I already had doubts that was my close cousin language, Español. The lady answered with the most Maria-like accent ( Maria being one of the most wonderful people I have ever met, who teaches Religion at Middebury, and is utterly refined, warm, intelligent, profound and needless to say amazing. Oh, and she's from Greece) " We are Greek, from Thesaloniki". And then, keep on talking for one hour, with the rain never ending. They eventually left into the rain for the bus stop. It was 1 AM and I was terribly late in my schedule. Still in Barcelona, not having seen that much from a city that has an almost annoyingly high number of interesting things to see...And I felt the need to run away, to leave this place. Barcelona deserves more, much more but in a more peaceful, less diluvian time. And to come back in the summer to see the Parc Guell with the sun that has glown over Barcelona skies in that film that marked my year of coming to Middlebury, l'Auberge Espagnol. This time, Xavier n'etait pas la.
I would leave Barcelona, I would leave Catalunya and its weirdly sounding language, Dali, Picasso and the sea, and I would head out to Aragon , to Zaragoza, as a night stop on my way to Madrid. I called Luis, rather overwhelmed, and my German was at a historical low. ( In case speaking German with my Spanish friend sounds weird, the key is Middlebury Language School) And after many "Bis spaeter", jetzt war eigentlich die Zeit!!! Bald was schliesslich bald! So, so begeistert!!!
But the train station proved to be a hell, trains that existed on the Internet didn't appear on the screens, only to find out later that they were actually leaving ( no explanation for the misteriously appearance and dissapearing processes on the actual screens). At the counter " Lo siento", we have no more seats to Madrid, Zaragoza. What about Valencia, said I with my traditional last minute change of plans- no, no. Almeria? Nee. "You could take any regional train though, they don't need seat reservations". My Interrail could actually prove useful. The regional to Zaragoza left while I was talking to the guy. What to do now? There is one, to Lleida. Lleida? That is still Catalunya... But I thought I said goodbye to Catalunya and I rendered my homage ( no Orwellian pun intended).
So I took the train to Lleida. But the beachside trip with amazing views made me take a sudden decision- I picked up my luggage and got out the train on seaside Tarragona. They have a youth hostel, that should be ok. And there is the sea and sunset on the beach should be amazing.
The sunset was amazing. The beach though was separated by the town by the annoying railtracks and I had to walk over 1 km to find a whole to cross them, for the amazement of Tarragonians. I spent the sunset on the beach, facing a rather industrial landscape of Tarragona's port, being cold but bathed by the sun's last remnants. The sun was set.
Oh God, instead of being in Zaragoza or staying in Barcelona, I am in this weird portuary town.
And all throughout my journeys in France I was very careful at the way how new generations have interpreted the city. France is advanced, I think, in bringing a city back to life : remarkable tramway projects that create a new urban landscape and make people forget about cars and traffic jams ( with really pretty trams in Strasbourg, Montpellier and Bordeaux- at least the ones I saw and work in progress, with city centers devastated by excavations in southerly Marseille and its more glamourous counterpart Nice), pedestrianized city centers almost everywhere, bike lanes etc. Barcelona had all this figured a long time ago: it's all in the Rambla.
Yes, Barcelona is made to be public space friendly. The Ramblas are pedestrian focused and their car lanes are so peripheric that they recall actually pedestrian sidewalks in most towns. There are floods of people going up and down, the center is all pedestrianized. But these ramblas are just amazing, graced with medieval architecture, pastel-colorful and laundry-loving in the Ciutat Vell, and Modernista extravagant in L'Eixample. Il Modernisme was an expression of the wealth that Catalunya experienced at the end of the 19th century, its industry being dynamic and competitive, and worlds apart from the sluggish rest of Spain, an expression of avant-garde, of being always in the forefront of Spain on cultural and social aspects ( it coincided with the development of anarcho-syndicalism and various forms of expression that defied norms), but also an expression of identity. Look, this is Catalan. This is splendid, this is extravagant, this is ours. Gaudi's Sagrada Familia has its more recent doors of the Passion Facade adorned with Catalan excerpts from the Bible, every building tries to reflect avant-garde while keeping on insisting on Catalan historical peculiarities, from the Gothic to to Baroque.
That Sagrada Familia is astonishing, there were too many praises before for me even to try. But other than the surreal feelings that it gives you and the impression of the ultimate church, combining them all and going further, it was the primary concept of Gaudi that got to me. Nature is the utter perfection and offers all the answers, so we should seek applying its concepts into the way we construct our cityscape and the individual buildings. And what is more eloquent than the balance that a tree has, with its capacity of holding together heavy branches, in a perfect equilibrium, said Gaudi. Therefore, the whole church is build around the idea of the tree, with the traditional columns and vaults being replaced by tree-like structures, creating somewhat like a thick forest.
Keeping my Modernista spirit, I embarked on my usual bus ride to get to Parc Guell, something that was supposed to be a sort of "garden city" for the wealthy, one one of Barcelona's northern hills, overlooking the entire city. The project was handled by Gaudi ( who actually lived there for 20 years, finding his death in the house that now is the Gaudi Museum), but Guell, the rich investor run out of funds and the Barcelona ajuntament ( city hall) seized the property and transformed it into this magnetic park, something completely out of this world, with colorful porcelain tiles, sculptures reminding of the Sagrada Familia, and fabulous views. There were so many people there though and I felt for the first time on this trip claustrophobic. And suddenly the feeling that you Sarah mentioned tried me. Desolate. The clouds came above them all, the clouds crept inside me and didn't let me go. I was there, on Barcelona's roof, surrounded by surreal, dreamy beauty, by color madness and by an overarching grey, lead heavy sky. And I felt this huge pressure. I needed somewhat like an outcry, I wanted to shout myself, but the sky exploded for me. And the diluge came, not to be stopped. The most terrible of rains, with all the tourists running around, the painting sellers running away. I heard some jazzy music, I ran towards it and I found this Gaudian pseudo huge umbrella where there were two musicians and some people sitting down on cold rocks. I took my Histoire des Espagnols that I bought in far away elegant red Montauban, I sat on it and I listened to the soothing music, to the Castellano that my neighbors were rapidly whispering and I watched the rain. It got more and more violent, with streams being formed everywhere.
I didn't seem to understand a single thing. Especially the very esoteric Castellano, with no word to be comprehended. Every five minutes, this poney-taled guy exclaimed looking at teh sky " ne, ne España!!!" and I realized it was an accusing cry, rain induced of some visitor to Hispanic lands. So I asked shyly this lady which language were they actually speaking, as I already had doubts that was my close cousin language, Español. The lady answered with the most Maria-like accent ( Maria being one of the most wonderful people I have ever met, who teaches Religion at Middebury, and is utterly refined, warm, intelligent, profound and needless to say amazing. Oh, and she's from Greece) " We are Greek, from Thesaloniki". And then, keep on talking for one hour, with the rain never ending. They eventually left into the rain for the bus stop. It was 1 AM and I was terribly late in my schedule. Still in Barcelona, not having seen that much from a city that has an almost annoyingly high number of interesting things to see...And I felt the need to run away, to leave this place. Barcelona deserves more, much more but in a more peaceful, less diluvian time. And to come back in the summer to see the Parc Guell with the sun that has glown over Barcelona skies in that film that marked my year of coming to Middlebury, l'Auberge Espagnol. This time, Xavier n'etait pas la.
I would leave Barcelona, I would leave Catalunya and its weirdly sounding language, Dali, Picasso and the sea, and I would head out to Aragon , to Zaragoza, as a night stop on my way to Madrid. I called Luis, rather overwhelmed, and my German was at a historical low. ( In case speaking German with my Spanish friend sounds weird, the key is Middlebury Language School) And after many "Bis spaeter", jetzt war eigentlich die Zeit!!! Bald was schliesslich bald! So, so begeistert!!!
But the train station proved to be a hell, trains that existed on the Internet didn't appear on the screens, only to find out later that they were actually leaving ( no explanation for the misteriously appearance and dissapearing processes on the actual screens). At the counter " Lo siento", we have no more seats to Madrid, Zaragoza. What about Valencia, said I with my traditional last minute change of plans- no, no. Almeria? Nee. "You could take any regional train though, they don't need seat reservations". My Interrail could actually prove useful. The regional to Zaragoza left while I was talking to the guy. What to do now? There is one, to Lleida. Lleida? That is still Catalunya... But I thought I said goodbye to Catalunya and I rendered my homage ( no Orwellian pun intended).
So I took the train to Lleida. But the beachside trip with amazing views made me take a sudden decision- I picked up my luggage and got out the train on seaside Tarragona. They have a youth hostel, that should be ok. And there is the sea and sunset on the beach should be amazing.
The sunset was amazing. The beach though was separated by the town by the annoying railtracks and I had to walk over 1 km to find a whole to cross them, for the amazement of Tarragonians. I spent the sunset on the beach, facing a rather industrial landscape of Tarragona's port, being cold but bathed by the sun's last remnants. The sun was set.
Oh God, instead of being in Zaragoza or staying in Barcelona, I am in this weird portuary town.
soon to became the most amazing of the cities I've seen this tour...
***
Now I am in vibrant Madrid, happy and sunbathed. I will update soon...
***
Now I am in vibrant Madrid, happy and sunbathed. I will update soon...
posted by Gruia Badescu at 11:37 AM
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