Our time in Barcelona reminded me that travel is a raison d'etre, a "reason for being." When life gets difficult, when bad news crowds the front page and my mental space, when daily routines become a slog, sometimes we need a reason for being, a flame of hope and optimism to light our way. For me, travel is such a light, and the possibility of adventure and exploration later on in life helps my chin stay up now, when each day brings news of a fresh catastrophe.
Learning, exploring, finding new information, a fresh perspective, openness to different peoples and languages, these inspire and fuel me. I need that lift when I face daily news of our national leaders shutting our doors, closing their minds, turning their backs on travelers, on those of us who want dialogue, clean air / water, a new direction. We're all in this boat, on this planet together, and it seems to me that we should work much harder to get along and to find a way to sail into the future with some degree of hope and optimism.
Writing this blog before 7am allows me to retain a bit of positivity. I haven't yet retrieved the newspaper from the driveway or opened the headlines on my phone. I write while my daughter does homework at the kitchen table, the quiet darkness a soothing bubble out of which any future can be born.
Family Photo
Family Foundation
Thursday, October 12, 2017
Sunday, October 8, 2017
Returns
Rob and I made it home after almost fourteen hours in the air. Crossing eight time zones with the sun kept us sleepless for almost 24 hours .... and then after a six-hour nap I was up at 3am. More cross-eyed than bright-eyed, but still with some quiet time to express my gratitude to Bill and Connie for taking such good care of the kids while we were gone. I could never have gone on my adventure-of-a-lifetime without their help, and I'm so thankful.
On our last two days in Barcelona, Rob and I explored Gaudi's Park Guell and had dinner near the Sagrada Familia so I could say good-bye to that spectacular monument. I walked fifteen miles that day and was all kinds of a mess by the time we got back to the hotel. Fortunately, Friday saw us rebound with some shopping, a tour of the Paulau Musical de Catalan, which looks like a music box on the inside, and a trip to the roof of Barcelona Cathedral. I've never been on the roof of a cathedral before - peering down at thousand-year-old masonry (some crumbling around the edges) from a scaffold was nerve-wracking. When the tower bells went off, all nerves went out the window as we could only treasure such unique moment.
We lunched on the sidewalk next to some local elders, who laughed uproariously at each other's antics and yelled across the square for their grandchildren to come carry the groceries home (up five flights of stairs, no doubt!). In the late afternoon we took a bus tour out to Montserrat Monastery, on the "serrated mountain" of Montserrat. The views and Cathedral there were splendid, and we waited in line for a half-hour to touch the Black Madonna at the front of the church. It was a holy, sacred moment, and undoubtedly blessed us as well as the many travelers with us.
Now I'm home with people I love and feeling so grateful, but also sad to leave such a special place and time behind. I've promised Rob and the kids that we would return to Barcelona, rent a place there for a year, and have them come out to visit us some time during the college or post-college years. I hope they learn to love travel, to absorb histories, cultures, and languages, and to experience this beautiful world around us.
On our last two days in Barcelona, Rob and I explored Gaudi's Park Guell and had dinner near the Sagrada Familia so I could say good-bye to that spectacular monument. I walked fifteen miles that day and was all kinds of a mess by the time we got back to the hotel. Fortunately, Friday saw us rebound with some shopping, a tour of the Paulau Musical de Catalan, which looks like a music box on the inside, and a trip to the roof of Barcelona Cathedral. I've never been on the roof of a cathedral before - peering down at thousand-year-old masonry (some crumbling around the edges) from a scaffold was nerve-wracking. When the tower bells went off, all nerves went out the window as we could only treasure such unique moment.
We lunched on the sidewalk next to some local elders, who laughed uproariously at each other's antics and yelled across the square for their grandchildren to come carry the groceries home (up five flights of stairs, no doubt!). In the late afternoon we took a bus tour out to Montserrat Monastery, on the "serrated mountain" of Montserrat. The views and Cathedral there were splendid, and we waited in line for a half-hour to touch the Black Madonna at the front of the church. It was a holy, sacred moment, and undoubtedly blessed us as well as the many travelers with us.
Now I'm home with people I love and feeling so grateful, but also sad to leave such a special place and time behind. I've promised Rob and the kids that we would return to Barcelona, rent a place there for a year, and have them come out to visit us some time during the college or post-college years. I hope they learn to love travel, to absorb histories, cultures, and languages, and to experience this beautiful world around us.
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Me Encanta Barcelona
Barcelona takes its place as my favorite city in the world. I told Rob that we have to come live here for up to a year when the kids go to school and we semi-retire. In just one morning, I have been awed by the precocious genius of Picasso at his namesake museum, delighted by the thick hot chocolate at the Museu la Xocolata, listened to a conservatory-trained trumpeter at City Park and prayed for peace at Esglesia Santa Anna. All before 2:00 pm (or 6:00am at home).
Whether through rubbing shoulders at the protests yesterday or engaging in conversation with my friendly Catalan trumpeter, I feel connected to the Catalan people. The spirit of solidarity and positive strength at the protests reminded me viscerally of the Women's March in DC, and invigorated me to get to work on behalf of our country when I get back to Denver. I have a few days yet to stock up on the international energy....
I love to practice my Spanish whenever possible, though usually people here take one look at me and speak in English (or once today, French, which I took as a compliment). If I start convincingly enough in Spanish, they might keep going, at which point I understand about 80% of the conversation. Enough to order coffee, not enough to follow the commentary about Chinese v. Japanese tourists. It's a delight to be surrounded by languages and cultures - even our driver from the airport spoke four languages. If speaking another language opens the mind to empathy (as several studies indicate), then being in a European capital feels like a breath of fresh air.
Now off to rest and read and write before heading to Rob's work gala this evening. Only two more days of idyllic travel before returning home. I miss everyone there and I am so grateful for this unique opportunity to fall in love with a new place.
Whether through rubbing shoulders at the protests yesterday or engaging in conversation with my friendly Catalan trumpeter, I feel connected to the Catalan people. The spirit of solidarity and positive strength at the protests reminded me viscerally of the Women's March in DC, and invigorated me to get to work on behalf of our country when I get back to Denver. I have a few days yet to stock up on the international energy....
I love to practice my Spanish whenever possible, though usually people here take one look at me and speak in English (or once today, French, which I took as a compliment). If I start convincingly enough in Spanish, they might keep going, at which point I understand about 80% of the conversation. Enough to order coffee, not enough to follow the commentary about Chinese v. Japanese tourists. It's a delight to be surrounded by languages and cultures - even our driver from the airport spoke four languages. If speaking another language opens the mind to empathy (as several studies indicate), then being in a European capital feels like a breath of fresh air.
Now off to rest and read and write before heading to Rob's work gala this evening. Only two more days of idyllic travel before returning home. I miss everyone there and I am so grateful for this unique opportunity to fall in love with a new place.
Tuesday, October 3, 2017
Faith and Hope at La Sagrada Familia
La Sagrada Familia cathedral in Barcelona has to be one of the world's greatest wonders. Largely designed by genius Antoni Gaudi, the church is only 70% completed after one hundred and thirty-five years of construction. Scheduled for completion in 2026, in time to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Gaudi's death, the cathedral is a testament to extreme faith, hope and love. When asked how he could stand to work so long on a building that would not be finished in his lifetime, Gaudi reportedly answered, "My client (God), is not in a hurry."
Gaudi provided the overall blueprint for the cathedral, but left the design of the unfinished facades to the vision of other architects and sculptors. Open to collaboration and cooperation, Gaudi named as his successor Spanish artist Josep Maria Subirachs, who died in 2014 and thereby turned over the master planning and directing to Etsuro Sotoo, a Japanese artist profoundly influenced by Gaudi.
I was extremely moved by our visit to La Sagrada Familia. From admiring the modernistic exterior and contrasting examples of sculptures, towers, language, and symbols, to resting flabbergasted inside the cathedral, captured by the stained glass, the cascade of sunset colors, and the soaring towers, I had a hard time keeping it together. Rob studiously refrained from looking at me each time I teared up.
Prior to La Sagrada Familia, I had only seen such patient, dedicated and humble efforts from the architects and builders of medieval cathedrals. Today's world moves so rapidly and hinges so much on instant gratification, that I couldn't imagine such a patient faith existing in modernity. Yet Gaudi and his successors belong to our world, at least in space and time. The splendor and beauty of their work convinced me again of what is possible when belief, patience and effort come together.
The light and hope of that visit sustained me through the news of a bloody rampage in Las Vegas, through other news of our lost and searching country. It lifts me up as I watch people of all ages and genders march today through the streets of Barcelona, seeking democracy and independence for Catalonia. We're all searching, seeking freedom to work and believe in our cherished ideals. I hope that with belief, patience and steady effort, we all climb toward the light.
Gaudi provided the overall blueprint for the cathedral, but left the design of the unfinished facades to the vision of other architects and sculptors. Open to collaboration and cooperation, Gaudi named as his successor Spanish artist Josep Maria Subirachs, who died in 2014 and thereby turned over the master planning and directing to Etsuro Sotoo, a Japanese artist profoundly influenced by Gaudi.
I was extremely moved by our visit to La Sagrada Familia. From admiring the modernistic exterior and contrasting examples of sculptures, towers, language, and symbols, to resting flabbergasted inside the cathedral, captured by the stained glass, the cascade of sunset colors, and the soaring towers, I had a hard time keeping it together. Rob studiously refrained from looking at me each time I teared up.
Prior to La Sagrada Familia, I had only seen such patient, dedicated and humble efforts from the architects and builders of medieval cathedrals. Today's world moves so rapidly and hinges so much on instant gratification, that I couldn't imagine such a patient faith existing in modernity. Yet Gaudi and his successors belong to our world, at least in space and time. The splendor and beauty of their work convinced me again of what is possible when belief, patience and effort come together.
The light and hope of that visit sustained me through the news of a bloody rampage in Las Vegas, through other news of our lost and searching country. It lifts me up as I watch people of all ages and genders march today through the streets of Barcelona, seeking democracy and independence for Catalonia. We're all searching, seeking freedom to work and believe in our cherished ideals. I hope that with belief, patience and steady effort, we all climb toward the light.
Monday, October 2, 2017
Bon Dia, Catalunya
I haven't written for over a week because I was preoccupied with a writing project and because I wanted to write about our pending trip to Barcelona, and couldn't, because I didn't want to worry my mother about the referendum vote for Independence that took place yesterday, October 1.
But we're here now, and my mom found out about the vote (not from me) and was duly worried, though she shouldn't be. Rob and I are not frequenting the polling stations and steered clear of the squads of Guardia Civil (police from the Spanish capital of Madrid) that guarded the government buildings and schools all day yesterday. They're still present today, and the helicopters are still flying over Barcelona, which is the capital of Catalonia (or Catalunya in their own language), but the simmering tensions do nothing to dissuade the hordes of tourists thronging the streets, pursuing their holidays.
We can see the bright yellow and red striped flags of Catalonia hanging from balconies all over the exquisite buildings, occasionally placed with the blue triangle / white star combination that signals a desire for independence. Pastel banners with the word "Si" (yes for independence) offset the flags on the surface of many buildings and a few signs urging the vote are hidden in corners where they were not torn down. This morning, our tour guide, A, asked us politely not to talk to her about politics because the events of yesterday were too close to her heart and she just could not speak of them.
The vote yesterday was complicated. The head of Catalonia wants to be independent from Spain, and a significant minority in the region agree with him. (The minority probably grew after yesterday's events). This region has been occupied for over two thousand years, has a rich history, it's own culture and language, and a disproportionate share of the Spanish economy. It's understandable that the central government wants to hang on to Catalonia and it's incredible capital, Barcelona. Less understandable that Madrid's police felt the need to forcefully disrupt the vote by dragging civilians down steps by their hair, firing rubber bullets into peaceful crowds of would-be voters, and blocking polling places with vans and machine guns. Such was the hostility that squads of local police (Mossos) and firemen found themselves torn between the two sides, and in some cases chose to protect Catalan voters from the clubs of the Guardia Civil.
Up until forty years ago, Spain was under the thumb of dictator Francisco Franco. Today we saw a church that had been bombed by Mussolini's air force in 1938 - with Franco's permission the bombers used Barcelona for target practice. Under Franco, no region could speak it's own language, observe it's own culture, or discuss it's unique history in schools. And that epoch, as A noted today, was so recent as to be virtually "yesterday." Since Franco's death, Catalonian schools teach Catalan, Spanish and English, and all residents are fluent in both Catalan and (Castilian) Spanish. The violent suppression of yesterday's votes must strike fear into the collective heart of the Catalan people, whose buildings and collective psyche are still scarred by the events of the Spanish Civil War, Franco's dictatorship and cultural suppression.
I don't know enough to take sides in the vote. I wanted so much to tell A that we supported her right to vote and wished for the best for her people, but my feelings are irrelevant. I do know that violence rarely wins supporters among the oppressed, never wins hearts. My fervent hope is that the leaders of all countries, regions and unions - Spain, Catalonia, the EU, the United States - de-escalate their wars of words, their hype and their threats, and learn to communicate effectively and non-violently. This is the most beautiful city I have ever seen (and I promise to post more about tourist activities tomorrow), and violence has no place here, no place anywhere.
But we're here now, and my mom found out about the vote (not from me) and was duly worried, though she shouldn't be. Rob and I are not frequenting the polling stations and steered clear of the squads of Guardia Civil (police from the Spanish capital of Madrid) that guarded the government buildings and schools all day yesterday. They're still present today, and the helicopters are still flying over Barcelona, which is the capital of Catalonia (or Catalunya in their own language), but the simmering tensions do nothing to dissuade the hordes of tourists thronging the streets, pursuing their holidays.
We can see the bright yellow and red striped flags of Catalonia hanging from balconies all over the exquisite buildings, occasionally placed with the blue triangle / white star combination that signals a desire for independence. Pastel banners with the word "Si" (yes for independence) offset the flags on the surface of many buildings and a few signs urging the vote are hidden in corners where they were not torn down. This morning, our tour guide, A, asked us politely not to talk to her about politics because the events of yesterday were too close to her heart and she just could not speak of them.
The vote yesterday was complicated. The head of Catalonia wants to be independent from Spain, and a significant minority in the region agree with him. (The minority probably grew after yesterday's events). This region has been occupied for over two thousand years, has a rich history, it's own culture and language, and a disproportionate share of the Spanish economy. It's understandable that the central government wants to hang on to Catalonia and it's incredible capital, Barcelona. Less understandable that Madrid's police felt the need to forcefully disrupt the vote by dragging civilians down steps by their hair, firing rubber bullets into peaceful crowds of would-be voters, and blocking polling places with vans and machine guns. Such was the hostility that squads of local police (Mossos) and firemen found themselves torn between the two sides, and in some cases chose to protect Catalan voters from the clubs of the Guardia Civil.
Up until forty years ago, Spain was under the thumb of dictator Francisco Franco. Today we saw a church that had been bombed by Mussolini's air force in 1938 - with Franco's permission the bombers used Barcelona for target practice. Under Franco, no region could speak it's own language, observe it's own culture, or discuss it's unique history in schools. And that epoch, as A noted today, was so recent as to be virtually "yesterday." Since Franco's death, Catalonian schools teach Catalan, Spanish and English, and all residents are fluent in both Catalan and (Castilian) Spanish. The violent suppression of yesterday's votes must strike fear into the collective heart of the Catalan people, whose buildings and collective psyche are still scarred by the events of the Spanish Civil War, Franco's dictatorship and cultural suppression.
I don't know enough to take sides in the vote. I wanted so much to tell A that we supported her right to vote and wished for the best for her people, but my feelings are irrelevant. I do know that violence rarely wins supporters among the oppressed, never wins hearts. My fervent hope is that the leaders of all countries, regions and unions - Spain, Catalonia, the EU, the United States - de-escalate their wars of words, their hype and their threats, and learn to communicate effectively and non-violently. This is the most beautiful city I have ever seen (and I promise to post more about tourist activities tomorrow), and violence has no place here, no place anywhere.
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