Montserrat

By Megan

I knew that Montserrat was supposed to be gorgeous, but I had no idea. I also knew that it was of religious importance because the Black Madonna (wikipedia it for more information) and a monastery resided there, but other than those few things, I was in for a surprise. It was a delicious day in Catalunya when a friend and I headed out for a weekend adventure.

We purchased our tickets for 19.50 euros and woke early enough to catch the train that would take us outside of the city. After the train outside of the city, a cremallera (a 'zipper' train) took us to a the funicular de St. Joan, which pulled us up into a religious community nestled between these impressively smooth mountains. We grabbed some bocadillos (sandwiches) and a water bottle to split before exploring what we could of the church and other worship spaces. To be honest, I was really there for the outdoor views and the opportunity to explore a new space; the religious importance was of secondary interest to me.

By that point, the sun had come out and started to warm everything up and I was ready for a hike. Camera in hand, I spied a cross that stood out on a mountain side across a little valley, and decided that that was were I wanted to go. There was a path that lead us out there and the views were incredible. But, it was not enough. I had my purple wrap around skirt on, sweater stuffed in my heart print bag, and legs ready for climbing.

It was one of those adventures that made you feel as if you were the first person to discover that spot, the first to experience the thrill of standing that high on a mountain even though you knew that you were not the first and that it was not necessarily unique experience. Having a good hiking partner who was willing to go along with my desire to climb higher and higher also made the day lovely. Sometimes you just need that person to smile with and realize how wonderful something so simple can be.

Gaudi's Barcelona

By Megan

My first visit to Barcelona was only a few short days, but Gaudí’s work inspired me so much that it pulled me back to the city to live amidst its wonder four years later.  Today, I’m going to tour Barcelona through the eyes of three of Antoni Gaudí’s masterworks.  And I refuse to apologize for all of the wonderful photos I was forced by sheer necessity to include.

1. PARC GÜELL
- The park was originally designed as a private, exclusive community and boasted access to fresh air.  The architecture of the space encourages exploration and imagination with colored tiles accenting curves and supporting beams designed to look like palm trees.  The entire community (that includes only two homes, neither designed by Gaudi) is set on a hillside overlooking the city, so as you stand in the whimsical central plaza you can see the mountains rise up behind you and the water beyond the city.  The central plaza is lined with benches that curve like a slithering snake around the primeter of the plaza that is set upon a platform.  These curves create private spaces even though they are open to the public and they are covered in the colorful tiles for which Gaudí is famous.  Street performers try to grab your attention, while “artisans” hawk their jewelry and trinkets, yet you still cannot help feeling that the sun-warmed cement space where you sit and gather your thought belongs to anyone but you, even if only for a moment.


If you go and visit, be ready for tourists.  Prepare yourself to look around the mass of people and mentally push aside the nearly constant camera flashes.  It does not cost anything to walk around the park, but admission is charged to enter the two buildings (one of which Gaudí lived in) on the property.  Tip:  Walk up the hill side on on the side path and sit underneath the cross, Gaudí’s holiest spot in the park, and enjoy views of the Sagrada Familia, the very masculine looking Torre Agbar, and Montjüic.




2. LA SAGRADA FAMILIA
- This massive church has been under construction since 1882 and will take at least 16 more years to finish.  Gaudí devoted over 50 years of his life working on this project and spent his last  twelve years living inside of the building, sleeping there overnight.  The entire structure is dripping with religious symbolism from the 18 towers representing apostles, evangelists, the Virgin Mary, and Jesus Christ as the tallest tower.  There are three facades depicting the Nativity, the Glory (yet to be finished), and the Passion.
Something else that I absolutely love about this structure are the playful geometric details, that were supposed to reflect natural elements, included as part of the physical structure of the building, the furniture for the space, and in the decoration that covers the structure.  It’s nearly impossible to imagine the detail that went into this project unless you visit for yourself.  Tip: GO INSIDE.  Get an audio tour and learn more about the project.  It’s worth the euros.



3. CASA MILÀ aka LA PEDRERA
- This building is located very near the center of the city and sticks out like a zebra-striped piggy bank on a Christmas day parade.  You cannot help but notice the unique outer structure of the work when you walk down the Passeig de Grácia (the ‘Funny’ Street, in English).  It has a similar curve as that of the benches in Parc Güell, but it is five stories tall and is still used as a residential facility.  You can walk into the building and wonder at the colors used in the atrium, and then head up into the first floor to view some of the architectural details on display along with free art displays.

This is another place where the cost is worth the tour.  GO ON THE TOUR!  Your ticket will grant you access to one of the apartments, still decorated with furniture designed by Gaudí.  Check out the unique handles on the doors and don’t forget to look up.  When you take the elevator to the roof, you might imagine that you are in some sort of skate boarders dream/nightmare, as the roof curves and drops in an almost unimaginable fashion.  Then enjoy in exhibit indoors of Gaudí’s furniture and designs.

4. LAMPOSTS AND SIDEWALKS
- Okay, I know I said three, but I cannot help but mention the designs in the pavement on Passeig de Grácia and the lamposts in Plaça Reial, Gaudí’s first project in Barcelona.  Keep your eyes peeled while in the city because his work and inspiration are everywhere.

(Photos by Me, Ana Aebi (Mom!), and Amy John)

The Catalan Coincidence

By Megan

It's been 16 months since I left Barcelona.  I was pulled back into the US to finish my college degree and by a curiosity for the adventure that would be the year following graduation.  I had accomplished my goal of having dreams in Spanish and traveling to wherever my feet felt like taking me.  It was a glorious year of discovery and exploration that had to end, but there is still one connection that keeps me part of Catalunya- let's call it, "The Catalan Coincidence".  Whenever you least expect, a Catalan encounter will take place. (Below photo by Alejandro Gamboa).

For example, this past week alone, I had three people ask me if I spoke Catalan- una mica.  And in a choir rehearsal, I had to read aloud the pronunciation of a Catalan piece so that the aquesta's, nit's, and deu's were in order.  In Berlin, a bike tour I took in Spanish was lead by a Valenciana (a woman from the region of Spain where they speak a Valencian dialect of Catalan).  But the most clandestine 'Catalan Coincidence' I've ever come across was in Milan, Italy.
My travel bud and I arrived in Milan late on a Thursday evening- the plane tickets were a steal, even though it was a late arrival flight.  We soon realized that the bus we planned on taking into the city was going to drop us off in a part of town we had not researched; this meant that all of the hostels we had looked into were on the other side of town.  We didn't have a proper map, it was past midnight, and our knowledge of Italian was limited, to say the least.  A familiar, uncomfortable feeling of doom started to roll over us as the bus made it's way into the city.
Suddenly, through the waves of anxiety, came a sound familiar to any well-immersed Barcelona study-abroad student: Four catalan women gabbing loudly, while on vacation.  The strong t's and squished together ll's sounds like a lullaby, especially when they graciously lead us through the streets of Milan to a relatively inexpensive hotel where they had rooms booked.  It was a god-send at 1-am in the Italian morning to two lost travelers.  Without our Catalan guides, we would have had no idea where to go- but fear not, the Catalan Coincidence brought forth four beaming rays of light.  Bona nit's and gràcies'  later, we had been saved.
Il Duomo and gnocchi made for a fine day in Milan before we said 'adéu' to the city and our Catalan guides, and headed for Venice.  In short, Catalan will find you no matter where you are or what you are doing.  It might come in the form of petons from a friend, or a protest that throws your thoughts back to fellow students from the universitat.  Embrace it and it will ignore you with love.

Next week:  A Go-Girl Guide to Hostels

The Five People You'll Meet in Barcelona

By Megan

As a high school junior, I  was lucky enough to go on a week long trip to France and Spain to soak up a bit of European culture.  I fell in love with Barcelona and immediately promised myself that I would find a way to live and learn there.  So, my junior year of college, I hopped on a plane and spent a glorious year studying at the Universitat de Barcelona and living in the city.  Granted, a year is only the first course of the city meal, but I got to know the town and people rather well.  Here is a list of the five people I promise that you will meet in Barcelona, even if you are only there for a week.

1. Tourists- Barcelona is fabled to be the number two tourist destination in Europe, after front runner Paris.  And it is plenty obvious when walking nearly everywhere in the city, especially if Gaudí, Picasso, or Mirò ever touched it.  Look for cameras and the shock on the faces of people whose belongings have recently been nabbed.

2. The Hair- Okay, well not exactly a person, it really deserves its own category.  Prime example: The Dread-Mullet.  That's right folks.  Everywhere you go, no matter where you are, I promise, it will find you.  Imagine an everyday 'business up front, party in the back' mullet, except in the back are dread locks, and the owner of the do appears to be completely sane.  It isn't just the dreaded mullet, but hair styles in general that make this city so unique.  Example, moi (see the near mullet encounter I had).  Walk into a 'perruqueria' (Catalan for hair salon) and you are in for quite the experience.  Never once did I leave unmarred by the intensity my hair, post-cut.  I don't think I will ever look at a bottle of hair spray the same way again.

3. Catalan Nationalist- Usually wearing some sort of red or yellow; prefers to communicate only in Catalan; usually sports an above referenced hair-do, a baby dressed in Dior, and/or that certain Mediterranean glow.  They can be found sipping regional wine while engaged in intense political debate over the importance of the region's social, economic, and linguistic independence from Spain.  Catalan's are passionate, full of dreams and ready to talk, especially if you know a few steps of the sardana (the traditional folk dance of Catalunya).  Visca Catalunya Lliure!

4. Street Performer- If it is your first time visiting the city or your twentieth, you'll probably want to walk down las Ramblas.  If you walk down las Ramblas, you'll want to hold on to you purse.  While holding on to your purse, you'll probably see this guy (photo by Amy John) among the myriad of statue performers, holding still until some curious kid drops enough euro coins into his basket to cause a reaction.  If it isn't him, it will be the impossibly fat dancing lady, the golden angel, or the biking dude wearing a top hat with a skeleton companion riding along side.

5.Foreign Exchange Student- Another little bird told me that Barcelona was the favorite study abroad capital of Europe, and let's face it- the beach, famous nightlife, and international community sure do add a little something to the classroom experience. Furthermore, each group of students has specific, stereotypical identifiers: Example A- see the Italian students (photo by Amy John), in the photo to the left, with large sunglasses, dark tousled hair, and that 'get-me-a-coffee-asap!' vibe about them.  Germans are also easily spotted by their sheer height and joviality, and Americans look and sound like the crowd after a high school football game.  Beware, they travel in packs and can be spotted a mile a way.
Honestly, there are plenty other characters in Barcelona, but here are the five I promise you'll run into while visiting.  Any other honorable mentions?
Next Week:  We'll leave Catalunya and visit Italy

A Beautiful Series of Mistakes

By Megan

This is a tale of 'woe' that turned into 'awe':  We are still in Catalunya for now and we will begin at the notorious RENFE train station, early on a Saturday morning.  I was headed to Lleida with two friends on a day trip, and carried with me my camera, journal, and swimsuit (I have no idea why I carried that particular piece of clothing, but just wait and see how handy it comes in later).

Photo by Alejandro Gamboa

After all three of us had our tickets in hand, we ran for the train, but were confused as to which train was supposed to take us to our destination.  A near drunken, bear-hug attack by two rude men rushed me into hopping on the next train that came my way, carrying my two helpless male companions with me.
Thirty minutes later, we figure out that we were on the right line, but headed in the opposite direction, so we got off and took a coffee while waiting for the next through train to Lleida.  Okay, so now our day trip was getting longer than expected, but hey, noon instead of nine didn't feel too bad.  I thought we would have plenty of time to explore the city before heading back to Barcelona; no big deal.

Waiting at the train station- a common scene

But it just couldn't be that easy- Around 11.30, our train stopped in Manresa, and the conductor informed us that it was the end of the line, and that everyone had to get off and wait for the next train to Lleida, which was schedule for late that afternoon.  We laughed, although at this point each of us was secretly annoyed with the Spanish transit system.  A march up the hill into the charmingly sleepy city, lead us to the stunning St. Ignatius church, complete with stunning views of the valley below.

Art of St. Ignatius- Photo by Alejandro Gamboa

The market was open and completely worth the inconvenience of the train:  The local cheese and dried goods were as authentic as it gets, and made this vegetarian so thrilled.  A few cheeses, a loaf of bread, and some dried fruit later, and we were enjoying our provisioned picnic while watching children chase pigeons, and each other, around a rather muslim influenced neighborhood.
After some more waiting in a sun-drenched, tree lined walk way, we finally caught the very slow train into Lleida.  Eight hours after we thought we would be there, we finally stepped foot into the city.  It was immediately decided that we would need to stay overnight, so we found a hostel downtown, rented a room for less than 20 euro a piece, and bought toothpaste and a bar of soap to split.

Plaza in Manresa

We explored the city and happened upon a celebration of sorts where I saw my first of many 'gigantes' (giant puppets manipulated by a person who hides underneath the figure's skirt)- later in the year, I ran a race in Barcelona where several teams took rotations running while wearing the gigante puppets, but I digress.

'Gigantes' of Lleida

An elevator took us up a tower that landed us in Lleida's famous Castillo de Gardeny, which boasts panoramic views of the city, and we got to thinking how we could best spend our next day.  One of my travel buds suggested a visit to the ever-so-seemingly-close national forest, and the enthusiastic information lady at the inauspicious RENFE station reinforced our decision saying the trip was a breeze.
Forgetting that it was Sunday- important because most everything closes down on Sunday in parts of Spain- we cheerily jumped on the several hour train ride.  With the boys sound asleep, the train rolled through a valley, maneuvering itself beside a system of stunningly clear blue lakes.  And it just kept getting more and more beautiful, and inspiring until finally I woke the boys and suggested we demand the train to stop and jump in the water.  Just a suggestion.
We arrived in the tiny town of Pobla Segur and realized that everything was closed- you couldn't even find a place to serve you coffee.  Where was that bus the information lady seemed so excited about?  How on earth were we going to get to the national forest?  A conversation with the amused police helped us realize that getting to the forest wasn't going to happen, but that we could catch a bus back to Barcelona later that afternoon.

The much anticipated swim

I finally had an excuse for the bathing suit; so I dragged the guys along with me, and hiked back towards the water, through plenty of grass and mud.  All would not be lost!  I threw off my dress (suit on underneath) and ran into the water.  The mud appreciated the gaps between my toes and I enjoyed the chillness of the scene.  And as I kept walking further and further in, I realized that the water didn't get much more deep than my thighs, even after I was several hundred feet from shore.  Swimming was a far off joke- more like walking in a giant puddle.

Clearly, this trip had it out for us from the start.  Train problems, faulty information, and now a lake that was more confusing than disappointing.

Reluctantly, the three of us trudged back to town through farm land and caught the bus.  Even though nothing had gone the was we thought, it had all been perfectly wondrous.  And yeah, I would do it again, maybe even on purpose this time.

Next Week:  The Five People You'll Meet in Barcelona

Burning Midnight Foam

By Megan
Nothing starts a day off quite like a cafe americano (one of the many styles of coffee found across Spain) and pan con tomate (the sadly misunderstood catalan food of favor created by smothering tomato, olive oil, and salt on bread) before a bus ride to visit Valencia to witness of the most bizarre and dream-like celebrations ever conjured.

Photo by Amy John

'Las Fallas' (a word used both to describe the festival and the sculptures) is a week long celebration in honor of Sant Josep (Saint Joseph) wherein teams create large-scale sculptures out of styrofoam.
The creations often depict political or other local events of the past year, or sometimes simply reflect the artist's fantastic sense of humor. The amount of detail put into the cartoonish pieces is stunning with no corner sparred of color or thought, and yet, is baffling as all of the works are eventually burned to a crisp in the streets of the city before the festival week is through. Oh, and they are all constructed overnight on the first day of the festival.
This entire trip felt a bit ludicrous, especially our 5 am bus ride back to Barcelona.  I mean, the entire point of the festival is creating massive foam structures and burning them to the ground.  After the uneventful bus trip to the city, we- my two brave friends and I- spent several hours wondering the streets in search of the fallas that had yet to be set aflame, before splitting a seafood paella made on a street cart near the market.

"The Big Enchilada"- Photo by Amy John

A few more hours of sitting in parks and exploring the sites of the city and we were exhausted- the main event was scheduled for mid-night.  We took a coffee break and suddenly we found ourselves in the middle of a pyrotechnic parade- another Spanish favorite. Drums pounding, feet dancing, and fireworks shooting into the crowd, I began to look forward to the main event of the evening; the burning of the largest, most detailed falla of the entire festival.
Around 11pm, sore feet and all, the three of us packed into the main plaza, along with the enormous crowd of rowdy teenagers and grandparents alike, excitedly waiting for the main event. Over an hour later, music blared, the crowd roared with anticipation, and fireworks shot out of the giant genie before it burst into flames. The intense heat waved down over the mass and faces laughed with delight, while flakes of mystery fluff rained from the sky. It took the entire, several story falla less than ten minutes flat to burn to the ground. Styrofoam, while not very environmentally friendly, sure burns quickly.

Before...   Photo by Amy John

After... Photo by Amy John

The rest of the evening was spent walking to the beach, giddy with energy from the night's unimaginable events. It is clearly a game to create something so extravagant, overnight, knowing that it's purpose is to be admired for the  impermanence of the structure.
A falla is designed to be destroyed. There is a playful passion that clearly exists in this celebration that makes one stop and think about the events of the past year, whether political or otherwise. But, the overall message is clear; learn and reflect on the past, but accept the future and it's new, fresh experiences. So, while on the crowded 5am bus back to Barcelona, I started mapping out my next journey while my seat partners attempted to sleep.
Next week: One Beautiful Series of Mistakes- An accidental visit to Pobla Segur via Lleida

WWOOFing in Catalunya

By Megan

View from Señor Cufi's porch

Señor Cufi and I were not on good terms the summer morning I hiked away from his farm in Comàs, Spain.  He had refused to give me a ride into town to catch the morning bus from Banyoles, a twenty-minute drive, after spending a week living and working with him.  The six-mile hike down the mountain paths took a little under two hours and, regardless of the 5.30am wake-up and rude host, was actually quite beautiful.  In fact the entire week was filled with gorgeous vistas, naps taken in hammocks, and new experiences.

I spent the week working on his farm, clearing brush and brambles on his isolated hillside hide-away and in exchange for my work, I was given plenty of food, drink, and a bed to sleep on, with the added benefit of language exchange.  Sr. Cufi and I met through World-Wide Onsite Organic Farming of Spain (WWOOF), an organization that connects volunteers and hosts world-over with the hope of encouraging a more sustainable way of living.

As many have that felt the pull to a more pastoral scene, I thought that an escape to the Catalan country-side would not only help me better connect to a part of the world I had spent the last year living in, but give me the much desired opportunity to spend an entire week existing away from the English speaking world; it was that rare moment where I would be able to think, speak, and dream completely in Spanish and Catalan.  As it turned out, another wwoofer was also staying with Sr. Cufi; Scottish Julia had found cheap plane tickets and in true student mode found the least expensive experience she could, in Spain.  Anyway, even though she was rather quiet and spoke only English, we became good friends.

The farm is situated way up in the remote mountains of the village Comàs.  Covered in trees and bushes, it was our job to clear the brush enough to keep the forest from over growing.  Previous wwoofers had cleared a path down to a stream that ran through the valley and a 30 minute walk down through the horse pasture lead to a small swimming hole.  One evening, while Sr. Cufi's lady friend waited for another guest, Julia and I walked down to the water with our host, who upon arriving at the swimming hole, stripped off all of his clothes and sunned himself face-up in the stream as it trickled down the rock face.  I jumped in the water right away and focused my eyes and energy on willing on the tiny heard of fish to swim between my toes.

Scene in Empúries enjoyed by several millennia worth of beach-go'ers.

My free time was spent exploring the forests around the farm, hiking on paths cut by his goats- Apricot and her kids-, and reading whatever we could get our hands on.  Sr. Cufi kindly took us with him on errands and dropped us off in various parts of the northern region of Catalunya.  My first day there, my wwoofing friend and I went to Empúries to visit the Greek and Roman ruins, just off the Mediterranean, and after stomping around the ancient towns, we obligingly took a dip in the sea.  In Girona, a few days later, I discovered that butt kissing was actually good luck, as it is tradition to climb up the steps and kiss the lion's behind to ensure that one day you might return to the city.

Kissing up in Girona

Excluding the odd host, the time I spent on the farm clearing brush, hiking, and eating sardines was the perfect week away from my crazy Barcelona life.  I shared the back seat of the bus on the ride back to the city with a tuba and violin player, who were both obviously in love, and realized that I missed my little Barcelona family.  Eyes closed and sun on my face, I thought about the week to come; beach time and bike rides with my favorite girls- seven-year-old Alice and cheeky five-year-old Rosa.  Farm life is great, but just does not compare with time spent as the nanny of two, trilingual red heads.