ONE BEAUTY AND TWO DISAPPOINTMENTS

CASA BATLLO

When we booked our hotel I was totally unaware of how close we'd be to one of Gaudi's most famous buildings, Casa Batllo. The spelling of this apartment building always throws me. I'm not sure but I think the Spanish consider the double "ll" a vowel. I've listened as closely as I can and as far as I can tell the sound of the "ll" hits my ears as an "eeey" sound. In American English it's a little like the sound you'd use to say "Yippy". It's the sound that exploded out of our mouths when we managed to do a special "skip the lines" and get escorted right into Casa Batllo.
I had purchased our tickets well in advance through the Casa Batllo online site. They were billed as "skip the line" tickets; they just didn't say what lines you'd get to skip. In putting together our sprinter's tour through Gaudi's Barcelona I had a few small breaks on my printed itinery sheet. Since day one was pretty packed I only scheduled our first tour at Casa Batllo on our second day for eleven. It meant we could leave the hotel at 10:55am and still have a minute or two to spare before our eleven o'clock entry time. Time is sometimes not your friend and as it turned out neither are "skip the line" tickets. The only line we could skip was the one for the poor souls who hadn't bought any advance tickets. They clearly had a lot more time on their Barcelona dance cards than we did and a lot more patience.
Rick doesn't stand in line for anything even after living in NYC for 46 years if there are more than 3 people in line at the bank he turns around at the door! I knew I was in trouble. If I didn't come up with something soon he was going to skip this one, walk back to the hotel and throw himself into the kiddie pool with the speedo boys.
I did notice that there was one line that was empty. It was labeled "Gold" entry. A very nice young woman who worked for Casa Batllo was walking along the line with all us " skip the line" ticket  holders making sure all of us were entitled to be this line. I grabbed my chance and pulled her over. With my best impersonation of a nice destitute guy I asked if there was any way we could upgrade to gold. She lifted her eyebrows, looked us over and then took our hands and said, "Come with me" in that Catalan lisp that can be so endearing. She pulled us all the way to the front of the line, shook her head at the woman behind the ticket booth, got us "gold" status and then made the man holding the rope preventing any "skip the line" interlopers from getting past him without his say to drop the rope and let us pass. I could have kissed her.

Many tours now have the gimmick of an audio accompaniment; another way of raising the price of entry. The devise comes with a strap but you still have to hold it especially the ones here because they had video as well as audio. I have to be hands free in these places or I can't take any pictures. Rick, on the other hand, opted for the audio/video guided assistance. He might have gotten a lot more out of the self-guided tour than I did but he's always expected me to be the official photographer.

Casa Batllo was a real gem on Gaudi's necklace of architectural masterpieces. Everything about it left the glint a genuine diamond has. This was not a paste imitation.

The building circles around an interior air shaft tiled in blues descending from dark marine blue at the top to a pale pastel watery blue near the bottom. It had the feel of falling water spilling out from the skylight at the top and cascading down to the pool below.

From the moment you entered you knew you were going to be a surfer hanging ten on a perfect wave. The staircase stringers and base moldings started the journey of delightful uneasiness as they undulated and created their own crests and valleys.

As you walked from room to room everything curved and rounded and made you drift along on a psychedelic trip.

Even the ceilings spun around like a nautilus shell circling into tighter spirals until they resolved in a crystal chandelier.

Staircases seemed to drip as if they had come out of a Dali painting where pieces of metal seemed to melt in your hand.

A brilliantly tiled niche hidden behind a scaly undulating wall provided a little love nest where young girls could sit with a suitor on one side while their nanny sat as chaperon on the other.

Beyond the niche was a series of archways, some open and others with French doors, all with stained glass inserts of large rondels that changed color when you passed through from one side to the other.

Once you ascended the last staircase leading to the roof the magic didn't stop. Gaudi's amazing tile work became almost luminescent looking more like carnival lights as if the roof were a midway, and you were on a huge amusement ride.

Since we held the golden tickets we got privileged access to a special exhibit of furniture once used in the owner's apartment. With the tickets we had originally purchased we would have been restricted to viewing this window and door from the outside. With our gold pass we were allowed a special glimpse into what the apartments looked like from within.

Once again, sometimes you never know where a door may lead you. Casa Batllo was a golden ticket well worth the additional price of entry. Casa Batllo was an example of Gaudi at his best.




















LA PEDRERA

The first night we were in Barcelona I did some reconnaissance, looking to uncover how far we'd have to go to get to the places I'd bought advance tickets to see. As luck would have it I found both the Casa Batllo and La Pedrera as dusk was setting. The two are only blocks apart. La Pedrera at night with the glow of the streetlights on iron lampposts was the best La Pedrera was going to look. My advance tickets for La Pedrera were for a night cocktail party and light show. Once again had I have dug a little deeper and looked a little closer at the event description I might have been a little wiser and a lot less disappointed. Rick was the smart one. He opted out of even going pleading it was way too late for him. I went alone and I was so glad I did, my disappoint was enough, better to have one disappointed rather than two.

Walking through the gate of La Pedrera and into the lobby was okay. I was fashionably late thinking it was going be a self-guided tour and free flowing event  like Casa Batllo with the added bonus of a wine party happening on the roof. What had already begun in the lobby when I arrived was a lecture by a poor girl who was trying to convince my group that the video she was about to show would make the spirit of the building burst into their hearts. The video was projected from a twenty-year old projector onto three slated metal window shades that gave the whole video a kind of ghoulish green cast. The images had nothing to do with Gaudi or the building but were fields of wheat and crashing waves. After a ten-minute finale our guide asked as she place her hand on her heart if we could feel the spirit. No one responded. We were then given the option of walking the seven flights up to the attic or take an elevator. I opted for the stairs assuming they would be as beautiful as Casa Batllo. They weren't. They were industrial stairs painted two undistinguishable colors separated by a wavy line. The only thing I got out of the stair climb was a state of being out of breath. Once all of us had managed to reach the top it was clear we had self divided into two groups: the wheezers who walked up and the gigglers that took the lift. We now had to walk through an exhibit in a humunguous arched space devoid of any of Gaudi's signature detailing. We were told it was used as the building's laundry room where the servants would do the wash and hang it up to dry because of the louvered windows allowing a breeze used to dry the newly clean laundry. By this time I was feeling as if maybe I was being hung up to dry.

The exhibit did provide two bits of interesting information. The first was the explanation of how Gaudi designed many of his more complicated buildings. He did it with chains and weights that he hung upside down over a mirror.

Then he'd photograph the image that was reflected in the mirror and used that to do his sketches and drawings.
The second bit of information was about the family that had commissioned Gaudi to build La Predera. They wanted  a better and more luxurious building than their rival the Casa Batllo. Once the building was completed they felt the results weren't as grand as the Casa Batllo so they sued Gaudi It didn't work. They lost. As revenge they had their apartment interior demolished and rebuilt with straight walls and then they furnished it in the style of Louis XVI. This explained why we didn't get to see much more than the lobby and the attic.

But the biggest disappoint was the final rooftop light show. I had expected something like a dancing waters show where the sculptural chimneys would be lit with dramatic color and we'd sit around with our complimentary glass of wine and chat up the marvels of the man and his buildings. No such luck. It was another projection fiasco with more crashing waves, exploding planets and ending in bare breasts. Whether out of boredom or ignorance my group kept trying to take selfies. Even though the light show was ridiculous the last thing I wanted was a picture for my album with someone posing I didn't know or care to know. I left down the seven flights of stairs and back out into the street before the wine was served.










PARQUE GUELL

The last time I was at Parque Guell there were no admission tickets needed. You could wander at your own leisurely pace, sitting on the beautifully collaged benches with a crusty loaf of bread, a little jam and a nice bottle of wine. Well … not any more.

I had bought tickets for five o'clock in the afternoon on the same day we had made a morning trip to Casa Batllo. I was thinking that might allow us several hours of pool time in between tours. It was my hope it would give Rick* the opportunity to re-energize his engines so we could go to one more place on my bucket list. By five in the afternoon I expected most of the crowds to have gone home. Boy was I wrong!

*EDITOR'S NOTE:  Who is this Rick guy and if he is so difficult to travel with why has our illustrious writer chosen him as a traveling companion?

We got to Parque Guell at our designated time. Once inside there's a famous lizard made from Guadi's signature chipped porcelain and glass that appears to crawl down the steps that lead up to the next level of the park. The closest I could get to the lizard without some couple jumping up in front of my iPhone was this picture of one green arm.

I do have to admit that much of our disappointment was due the extensive amount of construction and refurbishing the park was undergoing. I just wish it hadn't happened on our visit.
We stayed for less than an hour before we found a cab back to the hotel.

BARCELONA

HOTEL ROOM MATE ANNA

It was a total surprise to me when I realized I hadn't fully read the fine print in the description of our hotel in Barcelona. The little tiny type did include mention of a rooftop pool, a small little water feature hardly bigger than a kiddie pool. I totally missed the reference. I'm thinking Rick was fully aware of the amenity but chose to keep it to himself fearing if I knew I might have changed hotels knowing it would be much harder to keep him focused on our architectural tour if there was eminent relaxation available in the form of an irresistible though small pool.*  I didn't say it but I was secretly on his side knowing the heat of the day was going to get to me as much as it would get to him.

*EDITOR'S NOTE: Once again Rick is struggling to get out from under the bus!

The Hotel Room Mate Anna was located just around the corner from La Batllo, another of Gaudi's architectural wonders. Although for me, the major architectural wonder at five in the afternoon was that there was a Starbucks on the ground floor of hotel.

We had hired a driver to pick us at the airport and deliver us to the hotel. As I mentioned I had missed much in the written description of the hotel but subconsciously I think our gaydar must have been in full swing as we made our selection of where to lay our heads. If the gold details of our swanky room weren't enough the poolside speedo boys were definitely the exclamation point on the "Room Mate" phrase included in the name of the hotel. The hotel preached diversity and although there was a preponderance of muscles there were also plenty of families and groups of geriatrics, us included.

We couldn't have felt safer had we chose any other place to stay. "Enjoy the little things" with a bag of jellybeans was the hotel's motto and its gift.

Our morning breakfasts besides being delicious were always trying to make sure we were looking at the brighter side of life.

Leaving little reminders about how we should lead our lives was set forth in small ways like the chalkboard with a quote, "In a world where you can be anything - be kind" next to a display of the bottled water they provided that helped developing countries bring potable water to their communities.

They were also aware that a lot of partying was going on so to help cleanse the wicked ways of travel there was always a detox cocktail waiting with the rest of the morning offerings.













ARCHITECTURE NOT DONE BY GAUDI

It was hard to walk anywhere in Barcelona without seeing the influence of Gaudi and the art nouveau period. The organic forms growing out from the streets or dripping from overhead canopies were on display everywhere.

Flowers made of tile and cut from stone were worn like jewelry on buildings lining the shopping streets of the inner city.

The organic detail wrapping around the base of this column took this lowly footing and brought it to another level of architectural brilliance by contrasting it with the marble steps below and the massive weight of the column above.

Since I was not familiar enough with the language it was easy to ignore any signs that might have meant "No Entry Allowed" I would walk in anywhere and plead ignorance if I got caught in some place I wasn't supposed to be. My ballsiness got me into spaces that couldn't be seen from the outside. This amazing triangular stained glass ceiling was just one of my taboo moves.

The Massimo Dutti clothing stores are a must stop for both Rick and me but their flagship store in Barcelona is a must see for all and the perfect place to stop for an afternoon cappuccino .It occupies 20,000 square feet of space in a restored early twentieth century building that had previously housed the Catalan haute couture designer, Asuncion Bastida.

The research for the restoration was done in collaboration with Barcelona's heritage society. This signature fireplace on the second floor roared with terrifying design envy.

I believe even the smallest of souls could be impressed with the beauty of Barcelona's architecture.






















THE MARKETS

Our journey to Barcelona scheduled us to hit the streets in the later half of August. On the afternoon we were coming back from La Sagrada Familia we by chance passed one of Barcelona's indoor food markets. Any time in August is not a good time to go food shopping since so many vendors had their gates lowered with handwritten signs saying they would be closed for the rest of the month. I think August translates to "vacation" in Spanish.

Despite many of the drawn awning doors there were still enough vendors open to make our mouths water and our stomachs growl.

There were fresh fish staring us eye to eye and making us hunger for a Spanish dinner with lots of paella even though the time for dinner was hours away.

One vendor sold eggs, the ordinary and then the not so ordinary. I have no real knowledge of what birds or reptiles might have laid these eggs but the idea of passing one of those larger ones seemed painful at best.

 If we had intended on staying for any length of time we would have bought a bouquet from the flower stand that stayed open all night long. In the U.S. we have farmer's markets in many cities small and large but the idea of a permanent market seems so European and so wonderful. I'm hoping it's a trend that will pick up speed in America. Wisconsin are you listening?
















KARMA TWO

Other than our stay in Italy our trip was a bit of a rushed trip with short stays and small tastes of cities we'd never seen or really experienced. We were preparing for our final trip to our last destination. Packing and unpacking and then packing up again is exhausting. We had an early flight the next morning so we had done our packing in the early evening on the night before. It had worn Rick out so rather than dashing off to dinner he opted for a nap. Rick has the capacity to turn his lights out in about a five second time frame if he's tired. The problem is sleep comes so fast the other aspects of lying down before falling asleep don't happen. Things like slipping your shoes off or removing your glasses. Rick is also not a calm sleeper. He can roll around and hold conversations within his dreams. The conversations can be entertaining but the rolling around can cause problems. This time it was his glasses, a new pair of Giorgio Armani frames. The crack of the breaking arm as he rolled over them was enough to wake him up followed by a big burst of profanity and then regret.  Nothing worse than being on vacation when you can't read a menu or a directional sign because you've broken your sight assisted prescription glasses.
He was depressed. We still had a whole section of our vacation and he wasn't about to do it having to hold a white cane with a red tip in his hand. We had gone into the old town section of the city earlier that day. I had wanted a pair of aviator sunglasses. I'd been resisting the urge but as luck would have it it seemed the area of old town we were in was nothing but sunglass stores. After the third one I gave in. I bought a pair.
The only thing I could think of as Rick sat in bed with two-thirds of his broken glasses in one hand and the broken off arm in the other was I had an hour and a half to race back into the weaving streets of old town. I was sure I remembered where the sunglass shop that sold me my sunglasses was located. My hope was I'd find them before they closed and they'd take pity on me and find a way to repair Rick's glasses if only temporarily. I searched. I went down alleys I thought were the ones we had been in earlier that day. I circled around streets where I was seeing the same stores I had passed two and three times in my now panicked state. It got down to seconds before the stores would all close. I gave up.

Sometimes giving in and letting go is the best way of finding what you really need. I started heading back and within two blocks there was an eyeglass store that didn't sell just sunglasses but regular glasses and did eye exams as well. It as if the inner glow of the store was a beacon among the darkness. I walked in and showed the man sitting at his work desk the broken glasses. I told him the story of how they got broken and how we needed to leave early the next morning. He looked at the glasses, got out his tools, poked and twisted the frames and then began to fix them. In his broken English told me he understood how a vacation without sight was no vacation. He warned me about the delicate fix he had done. He refused to charge me. He kept his doors open until he finished and he shook my hand wishing me a bon voyage when I left. Karma.

BILBAO, SPAIN

ARRIVAL

From the moment we touched down in Bilbao we knew we'd arrived at some place very special. We have a set of travel rules when we head toward Europe. Near the top of our list is each venture abroad must contain a stop somewhere we've never been before. This trip it was Bilbao. Our original expectations were only focused on a visit to the Guggenheim. The pin we'd stuck in our Bilboa map and the only prearrangement we'd made was early entry tickets to the museum.

But as our plane touched down at the airport our narrow focus quickly expanded.  Unannounced to my meager book of architectural knowledge I realized the airport structure bore a striking resemblance to the designs of Santiago Calatrava. It's obvious similarity to New York's Oculus and the Art Museum in Milwaukee gave me pause that perhaps Bilbao had more to offer than just the Guggenheim. The airport was an unexpected wing of flight indeed designed by Calarrava and it made our anticipation of what might be in store for us soar.


GRAN HOTEL DOMINE

We've become very adept at selecting legitimately awe inspiring hotels and then getting them at a reasonable rate. Don't ask me how. It's a gift.  For Bilbao we made arrangements to stay at the Gran Hotel Domine. It sets directly across from the Guggenheim and we were given a room with a direct view of the Guggenheim's gleaming façade.

The hotel designed its gracious guest rooms with the same flavor of minimal ornamentation and sleekness as could be seen through its windows looking out onto its inspiration, the Guggenheim

The ample baths with its staggered stonewalls and vessel sinks completed a luxuriously appointed suite. I'm quite sure they had us in mind when they designed the hotel!

A huge sculpture of river stones encased in wire dominates the center of the lobby descending from the top floor and hovering just above a black pool of water.

Each stone has a message written on it, thousands upon thousands of short hopes and dreams all stacked and confined behind wire.

There's a lounge off the lobby we found to be the perfect place to relax in the middle of the day after we'd reached maximum visual overload and needed a place to recharge.

To help with my recharging I rediscovered the delight of a Moscow Mule traditionally served in a copper mug brimming with crushed ice and that perfect ginger zing.  It was just enough to get me going again.

All through the trip I feigned an intense neck pain so Rick would find the sympathy necessary to grant me the indulgence of a massage. This is the place where I cashed in and did it ever feel good.

But by far the best perk of this hotel was its breakfasts, served on the covered rooftop terrace with a view that would be hard to surpass.

The menu was varied and rich in regional dishes but their Eggs Benedict was something we didn't pass up on each and every morning between seven and eleven. Our favorite waitress was always at the ready with a cappuccino for me and a black tea with an extra glass of ice and a wedge of lemon for Rick.


















THE CITY

Bilbao is so much more than the Guggenheim. Exploring it's old town and wandering along the river bank are just as important and better done on foot where you can stop every twenty feet to take in the architectural beauties so wonderfully intact in Bilbao.

At times the dichotomy of old and new is prepared and served like an appetizer and a main course brought to the table at the same time.

It can present itself in the form of carved figures supporting the entablature as on the façade of its concert hall where a current production of Westside Story" was in performance.

The subway station in the old part of town is a glorious example of the art nouveau period.

The influence of art nouveau came at a period of growth for the city and it's a style that repeats itself in amazing details throughout the city.

We went so far as to stop at several real estate agencies and do a little wish shopping for new apartment. A prominent feature of many of the apartment buildings is this bay extending out four to five feet at the front of each apartment.  If we were only rich instead of so darn good looking we would have easily added another residence to our home portfolio!

In contrast to it's historic architectural heritage the renaissance of quality contemporary architecture has been integrated into the city in a way not many other cities have been able to duplicate.

New towers soar into the skyline in a way that doesn't diminish the rest of the city but lights the city at night and gives visitors a focal point to help with directions.

These guiding lights came in handy as we tried to navigate the amazing plazas and pristine fountains that dot the city and kept us thinking we could go down one more street without getting totally lost. It's not only the beauty of Bilbao but the pristine quality of life that impressed us. There's a clean and comfortable quality to life in this Basque city on the estuary of the Nervion and Ibaizabal rivers.

All of this and I haven't even mentioned the food. Outdoor restaurants dot almost every corner with a nightlife that is relaxed, warm and comfortable.

The specialty of the area is pinchos, small tastings similar to tapas. We obviously had to try and try we did from Iberian pork with onions and chimichurri on toast points

to egg yolks served with creamed mushrooms, potato crumbs and bits of ham. Who could go wrong?

Even if it weren't true, Bilbao certainly made us feel as if we were both Mr. Marvelous.