Frolicking in Catalunya

My trip to Barcelona came and went in a blink. Because the majority of the museums were closed on Saturday May 1st due to Labor Day, we immediately hit up the Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya just a couple of hours after landing from our early morning flight. Boasting a hearty collection, the museum was a swift introduction to our stay in the Catalan-infested region. From there, we wound our way through the Parc de Monjuïc to the Fundació Joan Miró. Among my favorite pieces were a floor-to-ceiling tapestry woven with hunks of yarn, a Calder mercury fountain in the courtyard, and the sculpture-speckled terrace. Lunch in the park gave us a burst of energy before venturing to the Museu Picasso. Although I wasn't a huge fan of the museum, I did enjoy the several rooms dedicated to Picasso's take on Velázquez's Las Meninas.

That evening, we sat in awe among the audience of a concert by a Spanish guitarist, Xavier Coll. It was not only his flawless picking on four different guitars that spanned four different eras of Spanish eras (and his 10 year old daughter accompanying him on cello for a double encore) that made the concert unforgettable, but also the modernisme hall in which the concert took place. Every inch of the palau was covered in undulating mosaics, intricate carvings, and bursts of color. A stained glass composition, punctuated by giant roses, dominated the ceiling.

Saturday brought Gaudi galore. We started from the rear of Parc Guell and made our way to the curvaceous benches and, eventually, the mobbed entranced marked by the famous lizard. We then waited on line (25 minutes for tickets and then 20 minutes for an audio guide) with every other tourist in Barcelona outside of the Sagrada Familia. Despite the construction, the church was INCREDIBLE, and I cannot wait to return to see the finished product (that is if it's completed during my lifetime)! Nature's influence was ever-so-evident in the monumental cathedral, and I really liked the exhibits that explained Gaudi's fascinating command of geometry. Our final stop was La Pedrera - Gaudi's famous apartment building. Continuing on our way towards Picasso's hangout (4 Gats) for lunch, we passed by various Gaudi contributions including Casa Batllo, some trippy lamp posts, and other wavy balconies.

After lunch, we strolled down Las Ramblas and wandered (okay, shopped...) throughout the Barri Gotic before making our way to the hotel for a much-needed siesta. A seafood dinner near the beach really sealed the deal! Two and a half days in Barcelona was not nearly enough time, but traveling with my parents, running into a long lost camp friend (and some current classmates from Madrid), and taking the high speed AVE back to Madrid (instead of having to deal with the airport) set this weekend apart from others.

Although I do love where I'm "studying," Barcelona did give Madrid a run for its money (food-wise, architecture/Gaudi-wise, and art-wise)! Oh well, at least we speak castellano here... none of that Catalan crap!

A Balancing Act

Last night, I returned to Teatro Compac (the same theater where I saw Tricicle) on Gran Via for a completely different show: Nebbia. The work, which means fog in Italian, was a Cirque du Soleil of sorts. The multi-talented performers engaged in a variety of acrobatics, dances, musical and instrumental tunes, and some rather bizarre talents (such as hopping like a kangaroo inside of a round tube). Comedic interjections/transitions lightened the otherwise jaw-droppingly serious tone.

A Walk in the Park

An over-crowded Estanque on Sunday didn't bode well for renting a rowboat, so we returned on Wednesday for a relaxing ride. With the sun beating down, the 45-minute float transported us to temporary utopia.

From there, we made our way to the nearby Royal Botanical Garden. Although the tulips were a little dried up, the garden held an impressive collection -- including a dark purple specimen named "Ronaldo!"

Beauty and the Beast

Given that both my parents and Adam's family overlapped in Madrid for a weekend, we took the opportunity to immerse ourselves in a wide range of Spanish "cultural" experiences -- some adventures were more fierce than others, but all were beautiful and impressive in their own right.

Topping the beautiful list is Toledo. After a quick 30 minute train ride, we arrived in the holy city to poke around for the day, admire the cathedral, bask under the blue skies, and enjoy some roast suckling pig. Although it was my third day trip to Toledo, the walled-city never ceased to amaze me.

The evening's entertainment brought a flamenco spectacular at Las Tablas. The musicians came from a mix of Andalucian towns, and one guitarist hailed from Brazil! The trio of dancers fervently stomped their feet, but it was the final dancer, a petite man, who was truly beastly. He pranced on his heels and routinely made ever-so-sexual eye contact with a lucky someone in the audience. [His sweat radiated from his small tuft of hair in the front, and our front row seats gave us the privilege of soaking up some beads!]

The beauty didn't end there. We spent Sunday afternoon in the Parque del Buen Retiro admiring the lush grass and winding trails that lay hidden among the majestic Palacio Cristal and Estanque. Although we didn't get a chance to rent a rowboat, we found ourselves entertained by the sheer beauty of the park and the handful of magicians that dotted the larger paths.

You may be wondering where the remaining beastly portion of the weekend lies. For this half, we traveled to Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas for a corrida, or bullfight. We came in to the stadium with an open mind (and left after the third bull died with a resolution to never return again). To say the bullfight was "unique" or "novel" would be an understatement; it is unlike anything I had ever experienced. It has been compared to art, to a game (although the winner is predetermined), and to an evening of opera. Some find it cruel and inhumane, while others are able to justify their attendance. To be honest, I still don't know where I stand (however, the young girl throwing up as we left had certainly made up her mind).

By the second "fight," I had picked up on the routine of the extravaganza as carried out in distinct thirds by the matador and his entourage (picadors mounted on horseback and banderilleros holding flags). Each fight had its distinguishing characteristics - in the second fight the bull stepped on the matador's foot (ouch!) and the torero in the third fight unsuccessfully attempted to kill the bull five times (at that point the audience started hissing at the matador and cheering for the toro ... and we decided to call it a day). For more pictures and stories, feel free to ask me when I get home, but I'll spare everyone else the details...

To dismiss the bullfight as grotesque would be unfair. The event had its moments of beauty -- the bullring itself is meticulously kept, the matador's costumery is intricate, and the ceremonial music and processional are enjoyable, as well.

At any rate, I'm curious to read Hemingway's take on the ordeal in Death in the Afternoon.

Flying High

With family here to visit, I stayed in Madrid for the weekend. But, I couldn't resist the temptation to, once again, find myself airborne! The Teleferico provided a temporary remedy: a 1.5 mile gondola ride over the Parque del Oeste in Madrid. The journey made way for views of the Palacio Real, the park's random sports fields, the Manzanares River, and, in the distance, the Warner Brother's Amusement Park.

Keepin' it Real

Last night I was given the great privilege of attending a Real Madrid futbol game at Estadio Santiago Bernabeu. The cloudy skies cleared just in time, and the match against Valencia was truly spectacular -- filled with a few yellow cards, some convincing "injuries," a dose of offsides calls (brought me back to my days of youth league reffing), a couple of well-placed goals, and an earful of cheering, "Venga, Sergio!"

Madrileno pride (and security) was ever-so-evident (though not as "machista" as I had expected), and the athleticism was jaw-dropping. Never have I seen so many perfectly toned legs in one 6400 square meter area! It seemed as if Ronaldo ran even faster when he had the ball at his feet, and Guti's command of the center field was flawless.

A Hearty Shalom!

Last night I went to a Friday night Shabbat service at the Comunidad Judia de Madrid (Madrid's JCC). The understated building sits about 300 meters away from the Iglesia (church) Metro stop -- a testament to the predominance of Catholicism and the waning Jewish population in Spain.

Upon entering, I was questioned, and a man asked to see my passport. After being admitted, I climbed several flights of stairs (and one additional flight to head to the balcony where all the women were seated). I suspected that the space followed the Sephardic Orthodox tradition, but this was the first time that I had experienced this blatant gender segregation.

Having arrived somewhat late, I came in during the middle of what seemed to be the Rabbi's sermon. He was preaching (in Spanish) about the necessity for love and peace - a seemingly cliche topic. After speaking, he returned to his seat. Expecting some sort of order, I was surprised when a random man among the crowd began to lead the congregation with the Mourner's Kaddish. The familiar sounds of Hebrew were refreshingly comforting. From there, the service seemed to come to a sloppy conclusion with little unity; each individual recited the prayers out loud at his own pace. A few minutes later, a young boy initiated a prayer, as well. Given the lack of organization, it was quite difficult to discern who was in charge.

With black pants and a blouse, I felt appropriately dressed. Looking around, I noticed a large range of attire from long black skirts to mini denim skirts for the women and athletic pants to suits for the men.

I was caught off guard when the service ended so promptly but on the other hand excited for what lay ahead: the Oneg! At my synagogue, the Oneg traditionally consists of a hearty loaf of challah, some Manischewitz, and an assortment of baked goods. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to see that this Oneg offered olives, potato chips, slices of meat, and peanuts. Bummer!