Chapter 9 - Gaudy Gaudi – An Unfettered Genius

As I mentioned in my last entry, I had decided to travel to Barcelona by train. WOW!! What a great decision that was, am hooked on train travel. There was so much to see, a ruined castle here, a field of sunflowers there, a ruined farmhouse sped by, a ruined village blink into and out of existence and whole new towns being built from scratch. The trains, even the local trains, metro and regional, make the trains in Australia seem like lumbering dinosaurs.

Every five minutes I was yelling (in my mind) STOP THE TRAIN!! I have to take a photo, but at 200Km/hr (120miles/hr – for my American friends), I did not think the passengers or the staff would appreciate me yanking on the emergency stop ripcord. The scene would probably not be unlike the taxi ride from my hotel to the Barcelona airport. Body parts in all directions, baggage slamming into the back of the trunk (my seat), swearing, cursing (all in Spanish, of course), irate vesper riders bashing on the windows, near misses with side of much larger heavy vehicles.

Unfortunately I did not get any photos from the train ride, apart from been glued to the window for 5 hours, watching the scenery whisk by, it’s pretty hard to get a decent picture when your travelling at that speed. Bring on the Bullet Train in Japan and the Train from Brussels to London – can’t wait.

I arrived in Barcelona – WOW what a difference. Where do I begin to describe Barcelona. The first couple of days were a bit strained for me and I was a little stressed out – a number of stupid things going wrong, I won’t bore you with the details, except to say I have learnt the following valuable lessons. 1) Don’t withdraw money from an ATM unless the bank itself is open (so they can retrieve your card, should it become stuck) 2) always ask your prospect home-stay hosts the following questions; Do you have toilet paper? Do you have air-conditioning, failing that a fan? Do you have somewhere I can secure my valuables (camera, laptop, passport)?

Barcelona was HOT, HOT and I again repeat HOT, but unlike Madrid there was HUMIDITY in bucket loads, and it did not help that I had arrived in the middle of a heat wave. The metro system is efficient like Madrid’s but unlike Madrid’s it is dank, dark, humid and hot. There are two things I find interesting about cities like London, Paris, Madrid, Barcelona, that all have efficient, effective metro systems, one why would anyone own a car and secondly that I find myself knowing the city better underground and getting around it than I usually do up on street level.

I moved accommodations three times in as many days, finally settling in a hotel in the heart of the gay area. The Hotel Axel, home to Europe finest poofters, I really am trying very hard to be gay, but the best I can manage is homo. The room was extremely comfortable with an enclosed balcony, a king sized bed (how I love a king size bed), working shower, and the all-important air-conditioning. There was a roof top sundeck, small swimming pool and reasonably sized Jacuzzi. A small fortune was paid for these 4 days of luxury, but it was my birthday and I deserved it!! Said the Leo to rabbit …… taking the thorn out of my big toe. Yes for those of you who missed it, my birthday was the 30th July, you know who you are and you’re off the Christmas card list.




Barcelona, Barcelona, Barcelona – what an AMAZING city, and I have only scratched the surface. I will be coming back here again. Barcelona was founded as a Roman city, this was buried beneath a newer city, which in time is likely to be buried beneath another city. The Gothic quarter now lies over the ruins of the ancient Roman town. I took a walking tour of the Gothic quarter on my birthday, and as luck would have it was the only person on the tour, which meant it was just me and the guide. Narrow, cobblestone streets, medieval aspects everywhere. Part of the old Roman wall protecting the Roman city is still intake, although they had recreated a small portion of a viaduct, for the benefit of the touristas.

There is beauty everywhere you look, every street lamp is a work of art, every avenue lined with beautiful green trees.

Barcelona was home to an architect by the name of Antonio Gaudi. His genius is unparalleled and what is even more amazing is that at the end of the 19th century the people of Catalonia had accepted his quirky ideas and new age of design. This man was 200 years ahead of his time and his influence on the world of design is seen to this day. He took a lot of his design ideas from nature, using the shape of a nautilus shell to design a staircase, the design of a door handle from the shape of a wasp’s mud laying shell. He designed weight-bearing structures, not with completed mathematical formulas, but by hanging pieces of string with weights to simulate the weight of a building, then viewing this structure in mirror to see the final result. I suspect that he did not even use the mirror, his mind capable of seeing the spatial elements required to build a cathedral or any structure for that matter.

Sagrada Familiar is the cathedral that Gaudi, partially built. He was run over by a thoughtless tram in 1926, when stepping out on to the street from the cathedral to, presumably, take a café. Most of the architectural design was in head, which was now crushed upon a Barcelona street. There were a lot of drawings and he had made a significant number of models, so despite a number of set backs such as the Spanish civil war, a couple of world wars, a falling from grace, the Gaudy Gaudi period and the Franco dictatorship, his work has survived and they have continued to build the cathedral. It is truly a sight to behold, the climb the steps of the towers a pure privilege.



Gaudi seemed to have an innate understanding of design, architecture and even such things as ventilation and air flow, as can be seen the towers of the cathedral and the houses he designed for others, where there are ventilation shutters in the doors separating each room. His attention to details was extraordinary and I have no doubt that he drove the artisans of his day, crazy with his micro management of the details of each piece he had built. Blocks of stone turned into waves of the ocean, lizards and frogs leaping from the sides of his cathedral.

Parc Guell, was another of Guidi’s ideas, this was the first and original gated community. He designed the parkland, landscapes, community areas, such as a market and walkways/aqueducts to get from one area of the park to another. Unfortunately this was one of his ideas that did not fly. And not a single lot sold. Fortunately, this area has been preserved as a park/museum. The sculptures, the landscaping and the communal areas, all testament to his genius.

Barcelona is a city of beauty, a city that has inspired genius, such as Gaudi and Joan Miro, another famous Spanish artist. I had the opportunity to visit the Joan Miro foundation, his modernist style is something that intrigues and draws you in. Some of his work is very childlike and not at all what I personally would classify as art (If I can do it – it isn’t art). But much as his work is awe-inspiring. He worked in various mediums, switching from painting to weaving to sculpture. I also had the opportunity to visit a Picasso museum, and I am about to commit art heresy here, DID NOT LIKE IT – apart from his early landscape work, very small pieces, could easily have slipped one into my back pocket. I am sure Picasso was some sort of genius – but to me, he just seemed like a tortured soul expressing his immense pain – and maybe that is the point – but personally did not find it inspiring or interesting.

I visited two other Gaudi museums, both of them apartment building that he designed. WHOA!! Again his use of nature, form, function, ventilation, light – just amazing. One of the homes has an array of chimney pots on the room (if one can call them that), Polynesian warriors come to mind. The other home has this room on the room with a small water feature inside – when the door is kept closed – I forced it closed, keeping out the rest of the public - to get the photograph I wanted, then ran for my life before the insults and security guards could catch me….. The centrepiece chrome dome water feature reflects light from an overhead source onto the surround dome shape walls. The room itself, despite the heat outside was remarkably cool










I had the fortune to meet a wonderful man, on my birthday, who decided it was his mission, despite his poor English (much better than my Spanish I have to say), to be my personal guide. Javier, it turns out, used to be a well-known and respected art director in Barcelona, 6 years ago he got jack of it and gave it all up. And has done odds and ends since and recently retrained as a natural therapist. Javier took me to Girona, via Caldes. Girona is about and hour and a half north of Barcelona by train. We stopped in Caldes so that Javier could drop of his Resume to a couple of Balneari – a hotel/resort with a thermal hot spring, where people go for the regenerative power of the water. At first I thought we had entered an old folks home, there were people with white hair to the left of us (sorry mum and dad) and white hair to the right of us, if there had been a beach, there would have been white haired people fighting on it, I’m sure. There were white haired folk staggering around on canes and wheeled around in chairs, by nurses. I asked Javier if we were in a retirement village – which was no mean feat, as I don’t think he understood the words I was speaking or the concept. No he assured me, these people were just having their summer holiday, the young people come in the winter months, presumably during skiing season, but I decided not to ask

The town also boasted a couple of water bottling facilities in the town, Vichy Catulan, if you ever come across the brand, you can now say with certainty you know where it’s bottled.

As we were entering one of the Balneari, Javier spotted his old music teacher. She taught him for six years when he was just a wee lad, music, singing, dance. One of her daughters is now married to the owner or manager (I could not quite nail down his exact position, again language and concepts getting in the way) of the Balneari. The other daughter and Javier spent a lot of time together. So we sat with them for a fair length of time taking coffee and them listening enthralled to Javier catching them up on 20+ years of life – all in Spanish of course. It was actually quite wonderful to sit and listen to them speak, listening to the emotion of the words, the life behind it, rather than the words themselves, as I simply did not understand I word that was spoken. Occasionally I would here a word I would recognize, like Australiano (and a hand gesture in my direction). Occasionally one of the daughters of the teacher would explain something to me, about the conversation or the history of these people, in English. Javier told them about his recent endeavours into natural therapies and all of a sudden there was health related question after health related question.

As we were sitting there, I saw the most marvellous little creature. It appeared to hover like a hummingbird, it moved like a hummingbird, it hunted for nectar amongst the flowers like a hummingbird, but it had a long proboscis, unlike a hummingbird. I had recently read about these moths, which are often mistaken for hummingbirds because of there behaviour. But it was indeed a moth – which when I have a moment on the Internet will track down its name. So between the lyrical musical song of Spanish voice around me and the dancing of hummingbird moth about me, I was mesmerised, it is a wonderful state to be in, highly recommended.

After a number of cigarettes, boy can the Spanish smoke – it’s a national treasure, like soccer, we said our goodbyes. Javier was over the moon with joy, and it was hard not to feel his happiness and jubilation. He was so excited to have reconnected with these people, particularly his music teacher as she had had a profound effect on the course of his life. He also felt very confident that he would get a job at their Balneari.

The Romans had also found the hot springs a draw card and we visited the ruins of an old Roman bathhouse. But then the Romans liked to get naked and run round bath houses long before the rest of the civilised world even knew what a bath was. So we went to visit the ruins of a Roman Bathhouse – I wish I could report how terribly exciting it was, but alas it was just a bunch of stone steps, using my imagination I could have filled in the blanks, the Roman columns, the hot spring water bubbling up from beneath the ground, the semi clad Romans gathered round socialising and occasionally dipping casually into the warm waters, but my imagination was still fluttering around the flowers with the moths.

I have to say, that there are ruins and then there are Ruins. I discovered this many years ago on my first big overseas trip, which involved visiting Turkey, Greece and Egypt. Now the Egyptian know how to do Ruins. The dry dry dry climate in Egypt, as well as all the sand covering the Ruins has done wonders for preserving them, as well as that the Egyptians did everything on a grand scale. Turkish and Grecian ruins on the other hand, pale in comparison. Subjected to years of tourism, a climate that does nothing to help preserve and people who would often tear down an ancient site, because other building material was very scarce, have left there Ruins – well ruined. The bathhouse ruins in Caldes, where paler than the palest white…. Gothic/Medieval architecture – now that is where the action is, in Spain.

We arrived in Girona, by train, and made our way to the old city of Girona. Which is a small hike from the train station, crossing a beautiful river flowing through the centre of the city. The old city of Girona, was stunning, Gothic, medieval architecture everywhere the eye could see. Narrow cobblestone streets, stairways leading up to more stairways, medieval courtyards, with there balconies and steps down into the base of the courtyard to allow the lord and ladies to exit their carriages and genteelly arrived into there welcoming homes. It was magical, and if you are ever in Barcelona it is well worth the trip.

The following day, my last full day in Barcelona, we headed to Sitges (pronounced Sid-ghes, as best I make out). Sitges is about ½ hour by train from Barcelona, it is a seaside city, where people go for a weekend, the day, an hour, to lie in the sun. Sitges is a beautiful little city, small, compact, with narrow winding streets that sometimes lead nowhere and sometimes into a broad park. I did dip my feet in the Mediterranean sea finally and I do mean dip. We laid out on the beach for a while, watching as a massive storm from rolled in from the north. Lying on the beach, dark, brooding, black clouds marred the eastern end of the beach, while to the west, the sun was shining gaily in clear blue skies. It was a sight to behold. We made it off the beach and to a burger king, just before the heavens opened and it poured for the next half hour or so.

Sitges is mucho gay…. Oh lord, if ever there were a gayer town in the world you would be hard pressed to find it. Maybe Province Town or Fire Island in the US, but in Europe I think it is possibly the gayest. Which was fine for short while, handsome men to look at, but I found it mucho strange that people would sit in seats in a bar outside, and stare across at the patrons in an identical bar across the narrow street, who were staring back at you, or watching the parade of people going by, judging them on their lack of fashion etc etc. I have tried to be more gay, I even had a lisp as a child, which I discovered in Spain would have been a major advantage – no speech therapy for you young man. I missed out on the fashion gene, I couldn’t decorate my way out of a week paper bag, I don’t give a toss about smoking, drinking, clubbing every week night and weekend. I have on occasion partaken in excessive amounts of drugs to dance all weekend long, only to regret my choice for the next month. Did I only get half of the requisite gay genes, which would enable me to fully appreciate my gayness. I think a quest to discover these deep answers may be in order – but I couldn’t give a rats arse.

Speaking of Rats, did you know the Spanish word for Computer Mice/Mouse is Ratolin… I discovered this today, while in a computer stores buying some DVD’s – it was most amusing, and a great change of subject to escape Sitges. It was a beautiful town and well worth the visit.

I am now headed to Gran Canaria, which is officially part of Spain, but of the coast of Morocco, Africa. So the next adventure awaits, although what I am hoping for is a small island with not much to do, so I can relax on the beach for a while and get some writing done.

I have to say the absolute highlight of the trip was getting to spend 24 hours with Nirmalpal. And knowing that in a few more days we will be meeting up again in Athens and heading to the Greek Islands for a few days together.

One final observation before I sign off, flying into and through and Spain and I suspect the rest of Europe, security is well, not so paranoid as the US or Australia. In Australia I had to take my shoes off, which is now the norm in American as you go through security, I was all but stripped searched, twice, because as we all know, us Australian’s are all secretly plotting the downfall of the American Imperial Empire. I waltzed through security at Heathrow, Madrid train station was a cinch and I almost feel like saying what security checkpoint at Barcelona. I am sure that trained dogs and heavy x-rays are bombarding my luggage, but it does make you stop to wonder why Europeans are not so paranoid…..


Some additional photo's to enjoy.... click on the photo's to get the full view....