Gothic and Flamenco

In front of the Barcelona Cathedral

Flamenco shadows and light

I have to admit that my concept of Gothic has been polluted by current images of black clothing, pale makeup and dark eyeliner.  I do remember when I understood it to be a period of time in architectural evolution, and was/is a style of architecture that I have long admired.  Lorraine and I took off after our hop on-hop off tour to explore the Gothic quarter of Barcelona, complete with a visit to the Cathedral.

Narrow, dark alleys wind up the cathedral doors

Headed toward the light

We window shopped down some narrow lanes that branched off from La Rambla, and did a little more than window shop in one or two stores.  Finally we emerged, ready for lunch into the sun-drenched plaza that contains the Cathedral.  We found ourselves in a local "dive" and I dined royally on fried eggs over potatoes--it was just perfect! 

Thus fortified, we made our way around the back lanes that lead up to the front door of the Cathedral.  It was here that my "issues" with Barcelonan modernism, if that's the correct term, really flowered.  I live in Carcassonne, a French city that makes its living by NOT tearing down old things.  There are strict laws about what can and cannot be done to the outside of buildings.  There would never be a question of tearing down an old building, even if it were crumbling.  A way would be found to save it and to integrate the repairs into the architectural style of the original building.

Looking up into the spire

Such laws do not seem to exist in Barcelona.  Parts of the centuries old cathedral were still standing--barely.  The "repairs" or the integration of the restoration consisted of what looked like painted sheets of plywood.  I found this lack of continuity jarring.  By the time we finished in the plaza, I was thoroughly disenchanted with the buildings and mindset of Barcelones. 

The ceiling is not overly dark, a happy surprise

Pink plywood?

The cathedral interior of course is not free--it costs 7 Euros to enter.  I can't be sure, but I think even Notre Dame has free admission.  I really don't mind--maybe if more of our old crumbling down French churches would request an entry fee, more could be done toward their salvation and restoration.  Somebody has to maintain the building and pay the light bill.

Elaborately decorated seats, for the choir, perhaps?

Think of the time, effort and craftsmanship

Cross of St. George

I was unprepared for just how ornate the Barcelona Cathedral is.  It is far too decorated for my taste, but I did find it very interesting.  Once again, the marriage of church and money left me shaking my head.  The little chapels that line the main part of the cathedral on both sides were "furnished" by wealthy families of Barcelona, each one trying to outdo the others in the use of gold.  The choir stalls are elaborately painted, although the seats look mightily uncomfortable.  One very major difference between European (or at least ) and American sanctuaries is the padding of the seats.  In Europe there is NONE, not even on the kneelers.  And in some of the churches in Carcassonne, there aren't even kneelers--one gets down on one's knees on cold, hard stone!

Looking down into the crypt

I have never been in any church before where one can descend to the "crypt" right in the middle of the sanctuary.  It was lit up and although behind a grate, there was an altar, draped and accented in gold.   Enormous sprays of lilies perfumed the sanctuary, massive as it was.  Everywhere I saw the Cross of St. George, the patron saint of Barcelona, most often carved into the backs of the pews.  

Breathtaking bouquet

As always, what I am most curious about whenever I enter a new-to-me church is the acoustical property of the space.  Unfortunately, with so many people in there, bursting into song, or even humming softly was not an option.  

The Catalan flag is ever-present

 

Who's got the most money?

Obviously, this family had plenty

Overall, I quite enjoyed the Gothic cathedral and the Gothic quarter.  After leaving the plaza, we decided to take an alternate route that seemed to parallel the street on we entered.  Seemed is the operative word here.  What I learned about this quarter is that it doesn't necessarily follow a grid pattern.  Eventually it became clear that we were NOT getting any closer to La Rambla and so we stopped for a coffee and directions. It was a nice little pick me up. 

Not your average "glass"

Beautiful color

We were headed back to La Rambla because I had found a flamenco show and our tickets were for the 7:15 performance.  I like to scout out the location in advance so I know where I am going.  We'd planned to do that much earlier in the day, but we strayed off in other directions.  Once back on La Rambla, we found our destination.  Again, building numbers don't seem to be logically arranged, and it happened that our venue was tucked away--upstairs.  We had about an hour to kill before the show, so we sat along the busy street with a glass of sangria.  

Apparently there's no such thing as a "glass" of sangria, like one gets a glass of wine.  Sangria is served in huge pitchers or goblets that look like soup bowls on a stem.  But oh, my, how delicious!  Sangria and tapas--now that's good!

Strong women dancers

Clapping, stamping

Pure energy

In your face dancing

Eventually we made our way to the  show.  I had seen a flamenco version of Carmen earlier in Carcassonne, so I knew a little about what to expect.  One of the great things about flamenco, to my way of thinking, is that it showcases strong women.  It's not gentle--lots of clapping and stomping, and of course, rapid fire footwork.  The singing is edgy, raw and full of strong emotions. No bel canto in flamenco. The performers are not spring chickens--they have some living under their belts, which only adds the truth of experience to their performances.  Men play guitars and help with the clapping, sometimes using "canes" to rap out the rhythms.  There were three women dancers, and they worked, by golly.  They're not stick thin like ballerinas, but have flesh and curves.  The "star" male dancer looked for all the world like Johnny Depp.  They programmed him last, before the final costume change and photos were permitted.  He was, admittedly, very good!

Her skirt is part of the dance

Thus our first full day in Barcelona came to an end.  We made our way back to the B & B for a good night's sleep.  I guess we had dinner, but I can't remember it.  I suppose it was the sangria! 

Guitarists and vocalists