Weekend in Barcelona, Part III

The next morning, our second and last, we set out to finish off the itinerary set for us by the guy at my hostel. The first stop on our list was the Museu Picasso (which also proved to be the most difficult building in all of Barcelona to find; it was tucked away in a non-descript building in a non-descript neighborhood not really near anything). All of Picasso's biggest works, the hostel worker told me, are in New York, Paris, and Malaga (a city on the southern coast of Spain where Picasso was born). But the Museu Picasso in Barcelona was for me made almost more interesting because of the fact that it housed so many lesser-known works, including many he made as a child and teenager. And, at six euro, it was one of the cheaper museums we've been to. Unfortunately, photography of any kind was prohibited. So I only got a few shots while the guards weren't looking.

The above picture is one of his studies on Velazquez's Las Meninas, his masterpiece and one of the most important paintings in Western art history. We'll see the original Velazquez in the Prado museum in Madrid a bit later on. The painting has inspired countless studies by many famous artists. Along with Picasso, Dali, Goya, and Bacon, among others, have painted their own takes/responses to the painting.

The original

But more about Velazquez and Spanish art in another post. One of the things that struck me about the museum was just how good of an artist Picasso was even as a young man. One of the most important paintings in the collection is his First Communion which he entered into an art contest at the ripe age of fifteen.

Doesn't look like what you think of as Picasso, does it? Kind of makes me feel like even more of an underachiever when I look back at what I did when I was fifteen. Or, for that matter, what I'm doing as a twenty-year old. Ah well, that's why he's Picasso and I'm not.

After the Picasso Museum, we made for a lesser-renowned, but nonetheless exciting museum: The Chocolate Museum (Museu de la Xocolata), where the entry tickets are delicious bars of dark chocolate.

The museum was filled with chocolate sculptures of various things, ranging in subject from Don Quixote to SpongeBob (Bob Esponja to the Spaniards). But really, the highlight of the visit was the chocolate that we got to consume. After our round through the exhibits, munching on our tickets the whole way, was concluded with a cup of xocolata. No, not the hot "chocolate"-flavored stuff you drink during the winter. Actual melted dark chocolate in a cup.

 No matter what kind of day, week, month, year, decade, or century you may be having, a single cup of this stuff will make you view it all in a dreamy, golden light. I firmly believe that melted dark chocolate cure not only cancer and depression, but every malady known to man. And it will make an incurable optimist of even the most cynical among us. While I was seriously tempted to make camp at the Museu de la Xocolata and never return to Sevilla, living out my days engorging myself on wonderful, divine chocolate, we pressed on.

Next up was the stadium where the Barcelona soccer team plays. Futbol Club Barcelona, is, I'm told, the best team in Spain and one of the very best in the world. They play in the enormous Camp Nou, which at a capacity of nearly a hundred thousand is one of the largest soccer stadiums in the world (for those of you keeping track, however, it has about ten thousand fewer seats than the University of Michigan football stadium). There weren't any games while we were in town, which was somewhat unfortunate. Even though I have no interest whatsoever in soccer, going to a soccer match is one of the cultural experiences in which I feel like I need to take part while I'm here. Luckily, Real Madrid, which I'm told is also one of the premier soccer teams in the world, will be playing during our excursion to Madrid.

The Spanish obsession with soccer is something I really don't think I'll ever understand. It really is a religion-- more so, one could argue after looking at the church attendance statistics of Spain. I'm not even arguing that it's not fun to play. When you don't have the equipment to play football, baseball, or ultimate frisbee, soccer does fine in a pinch. But it's just not any fun to watch on TV. I love baseball and played it for most of my childhood. But I'll be the first to say that it's no fun to listen to on the radio. Really, I'm not that big a fan of watching it on TV, either. Soccer seems to be infinitely worse than baseball to watch. And yet, pass by any bar with a TV and you're likely to see a partido, or at least a recap of a partido from the day or week before. Despite not understanding the national obsession with such a boring sport, I have figured out why the US will never be as good as, well, just about any other country in the world. For one, our best athletes do other sports like football, baseball, and basketball. But -- and this is the bit that I've learned while over here -- one of the biggest impediments to the US getting to the level of Spain is that Spaniards start perfecting the game when they're young. We saw the practice session of a team of kids who couldn't have been more than about four years old. And, as far as I can tell, every kid in Spain plays soccer. And they continue doing so until they're too old to walk. Every field in the city of Seville is reserved from now until the end of the year with local teams wanting to get playing time in. But I digress. Here's Camp Nou, home of FC Barcelona.

After seeing the stadium, which is on the outskirts of town, we headed back to the center of the city to a street called La Rambla, one of the most well-known areas of Barcelona. It's a pedestrian mall linking the Gothic Quarters and El Raval, an ethnically Chinese neighborhood. Among many other things, La Rambla is home to Mercat de la Boqueria, a public market where you can find nearly every type of fresh meat, fruit, and vegetable known to man.

A really cool place, a lot like the Mercado de San Miguel that I talked about in one of my first posts. We got some delicious fresh-squeezed juice for a euro. Between the fresh juice and Jack LaLanne's death, I'm really thinking about buying one of those Jack LaLanne Juicers when I get back to the States. The world seems to be screaming at me that that's the correct action to take. We'll see.

After the market, I split from the group with the intent of going to see one of the Gaudi buildings. However, the eighteen euro entrance fee threw a wrench into those plans. So, I had a fantastic meal (which is chronicled in my facebook pictures for those who are interested) and headed back to another Gaudi structure, the Sagrada Familia, for mass. The church was consecrated last November by Pope Benedict XVI, and mass is now regularly held there. Due to the state of construction, masses are not held in the main nave, but rather, in the crypt below the church, which is gorgeous in its simplicity.

The main altar of the crypt

I mentioned in my first post about Barcelona how the Sagrada Familia is a remarkably spiritually-moving place. The crypt is no different. It's just one of those places that stirs the senses. The beautiful space was augmented by a visiting choir. Their simple Catalan harmonies filled the small space wonderfully. Despite not understanding a word (it was a Catalan service), it was one of the most moving masses I've ever attended.

The crypt's most famous tomb is that of Antoni Gaudi himself, who died in 1926 when the church was about 15% completed. He knew that he would never see it finished, as he expected construction to last several hundred years. But he was never fazed, saying famously that "[his] client is not in a hurry."

After mass, I looked around the crypt for a short while then headed back to the subway once again to go to one final sight: the Magic Fountain of Montjuïc.

The fountains at Montjuïc were the original dancing fountains, and supposedly the inspiration for the fountains at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. According to an email that another person in our group had, the fountain performances took place at 7:30, 8:00, 8:30, and 9:00PM. Since mass ended just before 8:30, I was in a bit of a rush to make my way there. While I was switching rails, I happened to run into a bunch of people from our group who were also planning on going to the fountains. When we finally got there, we were met by almost everyone else who was in Barcelona from Tech, just by chance. Go figure. Anyway, the fountains' last show turned out to be 8:30, so we didn't get to see them. We were rewarded by a fantastic view of the city, however, which we used for one final group picture in Barcelona.

A fantastic trip, and one that I won't soon forget.