The Events of Monday, April 4, 2011

                Today was full of high points. That is, we journeyed to two of the highest points in Barcelona – Parc Güell and Montjuïc. Yet this morning started off at somewhat of a low point. Our present accommodations are in an apartment high rise, surrounded by many other identical apartment high rises. These surround a sort of common area composed of an above ground concrete park and playground. This sort of set-up would never fly in the U.S., as around this elevated park is a low, six inch high stone wall, just waiting to trip up some kid returning a soccer ball and send him falling six to twenty feet to the pavement below. Apart from the outside noise, which seems to go on until the wee hours of the morning, our apartment has been relatively quiet. However, I think that was because our neighbors were out of town all weekend. Well, they returned last night, and one of them must have been deathly ill. Most of the night, one poor guy was either hacking up a lung or retching up the remains of his last year of food. It was non-stop and it sounded like he was right under my bed. I started praying that he would stop coughing. Then, after one particular bout, when I thought he was dying, I started praying that his family would get this poor man to a hospital, pronto. So I was a little sleep-deprived this morning. Had I know what these “high points” would require of me, I might have begged off and spent the day napping at home.

                Our morning routine was completed by nine, and we were soon out the door, halfway down the block and boarding the metro. There had been some worry about the crush of commute traffic, but the trains were virtually empty. Caitlin has developed a real knack for deciphering the subway system, and, after a few transfers and multi-level escalator rides between platforms, we disembarked and headed to the surface. Immediately, we saw signs directing us to Parc Güell, our destination. After climbing up for several steep blocks, I felt like I was in San Francisco, climbing straight up the side of Twin Peaks.         Panting, I ask for a puff break and between wheezes asked Caitlin exactly where was Parc Güell located. Mutely, she pointed straight ahead and up. Wearily, we returned to our climb. However, after crossing the next street, we were met by a very pleasant surprise. Waiting to take us up the last four or five incredibly steep blocks were escalators, built right in the middle of the street! Praise God! So, while this weary soul took the escalators with the girls, Jim and Ben continued to brave the stairs, occasionally joined by Lindsey. In no time at all, we were at the top, but our climbing was not finished for the day.

                Spain has been very helpful in having a fair amount of its signage in English. Parc Güell continued on in this fashion. As we entered, we were met with a clear map and a history of the park. Designed by Gaudí, architect of the famous Sagrada Familia church, the park was initially intended as a high-end gated community. When that failed to come to fruition, the city’s founders bought the land and turned it into a public park. Initially, it impressed us as San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park, built on the top of Twin Peaks, another San Francisco landmark. However, Caitlin from the outset was frustrated. It seems Rick Steves’ narration of the park and its features start at a different entrance, one that is only three blocks and only slightly elevated from the main drag. From the get-go, we would be touring the park “backwards”. Using the map, we figured out where we thought we needed to go and set off.

                The map had indicated a series of switchbacks, and then a fairly straight shot toward the other features of the park. However, the switchbacks were leading us higher and higher. Glancing up, we noticed a stone structure with three stone crosses. Climbing to its base, we then climbed the uneven rock steps encircling the structure, holding tenaciously to the iron rail. It got especially hairy passing people descending the staircase, as it was very narrow, and a misstep meant a long, hard fall down. Finally, we reached the top and were rewarded with a gorgeous, if somewhat hazy, 360⁰ panoramic view of Barcelona. We were able to find the harbor that we had visited, and we could see the soaring spires of Sagrada Familia. It has been interesting to me how different Europe is from the U.S., especially California. Here, we were next to three very large stone crosses, on public land, no problem. I’ve also been intrigued by the number of school groups on field trips to some of the churches we’ve visited. Perhaps this occurs because the Christian religion is such an integral part of European history. Our kids never had a school field trip to a mission, even when they were studying them for California history. From this lofty vantage point, we were able to see our destination and plot our course. After descending, we made our way across the park, being careful to not lose any altitude, and soon found ourselves, with about a hundred other people and a large number of street vendors, on the terrace.

                The view from the terrace, while not as 360⁰ as our prior view point, also gave a splendid overlook of the city. We tried out the colorful, tiled, ergonomic benches that line the perimeter of the terrace – very comfortable. From the terrace, we had an excellent view of two other Gaudí creations, the gate house and the carriage house. Both were unique in their construction, and again decorated with colorful ceramic tile. Next, we walked through Gaudí’s version of the perfect surfer’s “tube”, Pórtic de la Bugadera, a pathway of unique columns that support a long arcade. Each column is different, yet the Gaudí style is evident. After a walk on the palm promenade, we made our way down to the next level, the Hall of Columns. According to our guide book, there are supposed to be 100 columns, but the signage spoke of 86 columns in the Spanish and Catalan version, but of 89 columns in the English text. On the ceiling between the columns are fun, whimsical circles of colorful ceramic mosaics, studded with broken bottles and a variety of other materials. Then, we descended the grand staircase, pausing for pictures by the ceramic dragon fountain. At the bottom, we saw the entrance where we were supposed to have begun this adventure, flanked by Gaudí’s wrought iron gas lamps, just as the guide book had said.

                We were just about to leave, when the girls realized that some of the deals the jewelry vendors were offering were fairly decent. Most of the necklace vendors offered one necklace for 3€, two for 5€ and four for 10€. Intrigued, they decided they wanted to take a second look. Most of the necklaces were glass, which the vendors banged together, perhaps to show their durability. But they felt heavy, and Caitlin was sure she had seen a different medium, which she liked much more. We returned to the terrace, and, there, found what Caitlin was seeking. The pricing was a bit different, but Caitlin ended up getting two necklaces, and Lindsey, one, for 3€ each. Satisfied, we headed back down the grand staircase, only to have our exit interrupted by grumbling stomachs. When the time was pointed out to Caitlin, her meek reply was, “Oh yeah, I planned for us to have our picnic lunch up on the terrace.” Back up to the terrace we went.

                Scoring some ergonomic benches in the shade, we enjoyed our picnic lunch as we people-watched. Our knife drew some attention. While I was slicing up the last of our French cheeses, a young woman approached and asked if she could borrow our knife to cut her avocados. It was easy to share. However, I must not have put the knife away properly, because Jim ended up stabbing himself in the hand with it when he attempted to push the leftover lunch material down into his backpack. We really need to start carrying band-aids. He was able to stop the bleeding with some elevation and pressure and soon we were on our way….almost. Time for a bathroom stop. Again, the boys’ line was nonexistent, while the girls had to wait for two stalls, one without toilet paper. Thank God for Kleenex. While the boys waited for us, they enjoyed a couple of street performers with marionettes, one a skeleton in a tux playing a piano, while another marionette “played” the violin. Finally, we were ready to be on our way.

                After descending three gradually sloped blocks, we caught a bus that would take us to Plaça de Catalunya, the square that boasted an informative tourist information center, was fronted by El Corte Inglés, a giant department store, and was at the head of Las Ramblas, the famous pedestrian walkway we had toured on Saturday. We were in need of some wood glue. Poor Abby, in attempting to descend the ladder from her swaying, creaky top bunk, had lost her balance. To save herself, she grabbed for the moveable guard rail only to have it come off in her hand with a splintering crash. Earlier she had noticed a crack in the wood. Her fall just completed the job. During the bus ride, I thought of what Caitlin had read to us about El Corte Inglés, the department store that supposedly sells everything. Perhaps we could purchase some wood glue there. Arriving at Plaça de Catalunya, we made El Corte Inglés our first stop. Once inside, it was a team effort. Caitlin found the directory, in four different languages. Ben found that tools and home improvement supplies were on the fifth floor. And I was able to look past all the options for dinnerware to see some lawn mowers off in the distance. Once there, it took a bit of searching to find the adhesives aisle, and even a bit more searching, translating and discerning to find the right type and amount of wood glue. That mission successfully completed, we made our way to the tourist information center, where Jim and Caitlin were able to get all their questions answered. Next, it was on to Las Ramblas, the jumping-off point for our “Short Sweet Walk”.

                Rick Steves’ suggested “Short Sweet Walk” boasts of the opportunity to sample a variety of Barcelona treats. However, Caitlin’s frustration grew, as time and again, the reality failed to live up to the billing. First stop was to be Casa Coloma, where they supposedly offer free tastes of turrón, an almond nougat-based fudge-like treat. However, the woman behind the counter firmly shook her head – no tastes of turrón. So we left the shop empty-handed, not willing to purchase something untried. Our next stop, La Pallaresa Granja-Xocolatería had recently closed for siesta. Foiled again. However, looking up, we found Petritxol, another chocolate shop that served “Chocolate Caliente con Churros”, just the specialty we were seeking.

                Counting heads as we entered, the woman behind the counter led us to a special back room with enough room and chairs to seat the lot of us. She assured us that they served chocolate con churros. However, she had only one order of churros remaining, but, since one order consists of six churros, that would suit us just fine. She also suggested one order of sweet bread. Then Jim went with her to the front window, and pointed out some of the chocolate creations we had been drooling over – almonds covered in dark chocolate, almonds covered in white chocolate, and a milk chocolate praline. Only these were not your typical chocolate-covered almonds, where a half dozen almonds are covered. These were heaps of slivers of almonds arranged in a ball as big as Abby’s fist. The next surprise was the arrival of our Chocolate Caliente. Six steaming cups soon covered the table. Each was filled with a very thick dark chocolate. It was like eating the richest, thickest pudding imaginable, only hot. We dipped our churros, dipped the sweet bread, and shared the other treats. It was delicious and rich. Lindsey and Abby couldn’t finish their cups, and were gladly aided by Ben and Caitlin. Finally satiated, and pleased with the sweet success of the Sweet Walk, Caitlin led us back onto the streets of Barcelona.  

                Soon, we were back on the subway headed to another “high point” – Montjuïc, the “Mount of the Jews”. Once the site of an impressive fortress, in 1929, it hosted an international fair, and in 1992, the Summer Olympics. The metro took us to the funicular, which could then take us part way up the mount, and then we could switch to a cable car for a ride to the top. However, we were a little confused by the terminology. The funicular is more like a cable car, as we know them in San Francisco, and the cable car is what we would call a gondola. It turns out that our metro ticket included the funicular portion of the trip, but not the cable car. The funicular ride was fun, but short. Entering the car from a slanted platform, the first thing we noticed was that the floors were flat and stair stepped. Soon, the ride began, all automated, no human drivers in sight. Just as we headed into a tunnel, we noticed a pair of headlights bearing down on us. It was the descending funicular, and it looked like a crash was inevitable. At the last possible moment, each car was diverted to its own track, returning to the shared track, once the pass was made. As Caitlin said, “I hope the automation never gets its signals crossed.”

                Arriving at the metro station, we ventured out to find the nearest information center. There, we found out that the cable car (gondola ride) was pricey, and actually didn’t go very far. We had hoped that this cable car would connect with the cable car over the harbor, but it was not to be. Disappointed, we decided to hike to the top to visit the Castle of Montjuïc, and then make our way to the Olympic Stadium. From the map we purchased, it appeared to be a fairly clear straight shot and offered the bonus of strolling through some gardens. So, off we went. Again, it was like hiking up Twin Peaks, but landscaped like Golden Gate Park. Only, this time, no escalators appeared magically out of thin air. We were on our own for this one, step by laborious step, and staircase after staircase. Any calories from our afternoon sweets were soon negated. The gardens we found ourselves in, however, made all this hard work worth every step. Fields of white and red tulips, yellow daffodils, white daisies, and sheets of hanging purple wisteria filled the air with wonderful smells, and the cameras were kept busy. Further on, we came across a water feature. A series of ponds, full of blooming lilies, stair-stepped their way down the hillside.  

                Our garden wanderings had gotten us a bit off track, so we took a steep switchback trail through a less developed area. Cresting this hill, we saw another huge hill with the castle nestled at the top. Up the stairs we went. However, halfway up this hill was a playground with metal slides built into the hillside, much like they are in Golden Gate Park. Stopping for a rest and some fun, the kids spent several minutes riding down these long steep slides and clambering back up for another go. Then, it was back off to the top. The Castle of Montjuïc initially was a fortress, complete with moat and drawbridge. We circled its perimeter, much to Caitlin’s distaste, as this was NOT on her tour itinerary. However, the views from the top were spectacular. We watched Barcelona’s busy port in action with containers, cranes, boats, and trains, as far as the eye could see. We saw different parts of the industrial side of Barcelona and other neighborhoods as well. Finally, it was time to descend and visit the sites of the Barcelona Olympics.

                First, we started off trying to follow the map. When that proved hopeless, we pulled out our GPS. Not much luck with that either. We knew the general direction we needed to head, downhill and to the left, and, eventually, we just headed in that direction, until we stumbled on some signs affirming that we were on the right path. The Olympic Stadium was open, and, at first sight, impressive until we realized that it seemed a little small. It turns out that it only has 55,000 seats. It was built for the 1936 Olympic Games, but lost the bid, due to the Spanish Civil War. It wasn’t rebuilt for the 1992 Olympic Games, just modernized and now boasts an impressive T.V. antennae tower nearby.

                Next on our agenda was to visit the swimming pools. The map made them look like the pools were out in the open, but, following a hunch, I led the family into a building that had people streaming in and out of it in workout clothes. I was right. A few feet past the reception desk was a window overlooking the swimming and diving pools, surrounded with seating. We had found it. Near the reception desk were two billboards with all the water polo, synchronized swimming, diving and swimming results from the Barcelona 1992 Olympic Games. It was a treat to recognize familiar names – Matt Biondi, Pablo Morales, Jenny Thompson, Janet Evans, Summer Sanders, and Dara Torres. Pablo Morales was at Stanford at the same time we were. A new Christian, he attended the same bible study I did and as a result we once hosted a TV crew that was following him around for the special interest stories.

                Exhausted from our day of hiking the heights, we headed home via funicular and metro. Checking the pedometer, I found we had walked over 19,000 steps, and, as Ben was quick to point out, that didn’t include all the steps he and his dad took when they bypassed escalators. My legs felt wooden, they were so worn out. At home, some fixed dinner, while others folded dry laundry, and hung another load to dry. After a delicious dinner, we cleaned up from the day, blogged, edited pictures (there were over 472 pictures taken of the Sagrada Familia church) and prepared for bed. Due to the smallness of the kitchen, the microwave sits on a desk in my room. Unfortunately, it is located right above my open suitcase, and some leek soup had spilled on some of my clothes. Another load of laundry was warranted, and, after spinning it three times, I hung my jeans to dry, and hoped for the best. After blogging for a bit, I headed off to bed. Just as my exhausted body relaxed between the sheets, the hacking guy below started off. Tiredly, I prayed for him, as I drifted off to sleep.