Barcelona re-visited, Paris, and Vancouver re-entry

We began the three-day drive from Nerja back to Barcelona on November 30. We stayed in the same towns and same hotels as we did on the drive down, Aguilas and Gandia. Both very lovely. This time in Aguilas we climbed up to the castle on the hill, and found this on the way up:





Our arrival back in Barcelona almost didn’t happen. We nearly drove to France instead! Well not really, but we had driven quite a way north of our required exit before we realized we’d missed it. I was looking at the map very carefully. I saw the highway exit A2 and said to Don, “no don’t take that, we want AP2”, so on we drove, further and further north. The difference between A2 and AP2 is that AP2 is a new toll road and the map showed it having a direct connection to the road we wanted for re-entering the Barcelona suburbs. According to the map A2 still exists parallel to AP2. Aaaaahhh. Not so, we discovered. The hard way. A2 becomes AP2.

Eventually, (we’re in rush hour traffic during all this) I spot a sign indicating a U-turn opportunity on the freeway, so we turn around and phone Liz who puts us onto her son who guides us in. Don said it felt like he was one of those WWII bomber pilots being guided in for landing :). And what do you know. When you’re approaching Barcelona from the other direction there’s signs all over the place indicating the exit to AP2.

We got in late afternoon, dropped our bags and, with Liz, headed into the city to see the Christmas lights – simply stunning. They know Christmas lights in Barcelona! – and to find a nice place for dinner. Divine crepes!

Barcelona Christmas lights! (And yes I did stand in the middle of the street to get some of these shots).













Through the bus window





The next day was a crazy whirlwind. We had only one day, and a list! We wanted to ride the Teleferico (a kind of cable car with glass-sided cabins) that takes you for a ride from Montjuic out over the harbor) and we wanted to go to Parc Guell (where there’s more of Gaudi’s creative extravagance), and, if time, we wanted to go to the Miro Museum. Well we did all that and rode the funicular up Montjuic, rode the aerial gondola around Montjuic, walked down to the Miro for a tea break and a quick stroll through the museum. Then we rode the Teleferico down to Barcelona's harbour and port, walked around the old quarter there where the fishermen lived, walked along by the port and beach quite a way, went back to the old quarter for a fabulous lunch, then got the bus to Parc Guell, then home for the evening to collapse, and pack for leaving the next day. Phew! A fabulous day!

View from the gondola





On Montjuic





Views from the Teleferico













Port old quarter













Along the waterfront













Parc Guell
























The next day we travelled by train to Paris arriving late(ish) in a downpour. We’d thought of walking to our hotel, but the weather made that decision for us and we got a cab. Thank God, because even having studied the map we never would have found it.

We had just the one day in Paris, and the rain had stopped, but we weren’t inspired to do any sightseeing since we’d spent 3 weeks there fairly recently. So first we oriented ourselves re our hotel and the nearest Metro, and then we walked. Don wanted to find Shakespeare & Co, the oldest English language bookstore in Paris, so we walked there (about an hour or so I think) and found lots of sights along the way anyway.

























That evening we went out for dinner with some long time family friends. We hadn't seen each other for several years so it was great to catch up. And the next day we flew back to Vancouver………….

We didn’t want to leave Nerja, it was so perfect. But not only that, I stopped sleeping the last 2 nights in Barcelona and the 2 nights in Paris. I finally figured out what it was about. I knew the return to Vancouver would be busy, and with no place to settle: one night in the guest suite in Magnolia Gate (where we used to live), then 8 nights house-sitting for a friend, then 6 nights back in the guest suite, then 2 nights at my sister’s place in Montreal, then 7 nights in a cottage in St Adele, then 4 nights in a hotel in Montreal, then 2 nights in the guest suite, then 4 nights down on Whidbey Island with a bunch of friends for our semi annual Long Dance, and then 3 or 4 nights back at the guest suite. Then fly to India. It’s crazy. And in the middle of all that moving we have to sort out visas and flights for India and Bali, a hotel in Montreal, our income taxes so we can get them done without actually being in Canada next April, doctors, dentists and haircut appointments, months of mail to read, shop for the India trip, and pack and repack for each of those separate trips – 20 below for Montreal, and 30 above for India/Bali.

What I finally realized was that I believed there’s no place to rest, and it was eating me up, especially because I was not in touch with the feelings, so it was showing up as not sleeping well. Every time we’ve gone away on extended trips there was home to come home to. We could just stop. Put everything away in its rightful place. Get all the laundry done. Have everything neat and organized again. And just stop. This time there’s no stopping. At least not externally. This time there’s no home to come home to. No place to just be. No place to take a breath. No home. When I finally realized what it was all about the tears and fears came to the surface. I let the storm roll in and roll by. Stopping can no longer be about what’s happening externally. It has to be internal. I have to trust. Trust the moment. Trust that all that needs to be done will be done. Trust presence. Let go into each moment. And be stopped. In each moment. I have no idea if I can do this or not, but I know there is no longer any external place for me to do it, or to help me do it, so I have to find some other way. I have to embrace the feeling of being at home wherever I am, even if it is only for a day. I have to find that feeling of being at home in myself, in spite of the busyness and constant moving. And whatever I feel, it’s not personal, and things only become problematic when I think it is.

All of our time in Europe feels like a miracle. We chose what we wanted, it arose, magnificently, and then it fell away and was done. Miraculous. What a huge gift life is.

More musings from Don, and Alison's Barcelona.

From Don
Here’s the most important thing I’ve learned during our ten weeks of travel through Europe: travelling for extended periods of time requires a lot of attention. I’m not just talking about making sure that I have my wallet and passport with me wherever I go, though that, of course, is very important. It’s much more about paying attention to feelings as they arise, and then making sure that they get felt rather than pushing them away until I’ve finished exploring whatever amazing place I happen to be visiting that day. So-called ‘negative’ feelings (especially fear) arise, sometimes because they’ve been triggered by a thought or by something someone has said or done, but often for no apparent reason. Usually the first indication I get that something is up emotionally is physical discomfort somewhere in my body. In the past I would assume that there was something wrong physically. What I have learned to put into practice is to assume that the physical symptoms are more likely than not the result of unfelt feelings. I have also learned that I then need to feel those feelings as deeply as I can until they dissipate: the only way to be free of the feelings is to feel them.

When the feelings don’t get felt they get lodged in my body and cause physical distress of one sort or another – vague stomach upset, headache, chest pain – you name it I’ve had it. There’s also an equally, or even more important component – the emotional malaise that arises when feelings have not been felt or expressed – a general irritability with the world for no good reason. The mind just begins to make up stories of dissatisfaction to go along with or explain the grumpiness. Then life stops being joyful and fun. It also becomes more difficult to make decisions when the mind is filled with fear thoughts and negative emotions. So the clearest message that has come to me on this trip is this: feel the feelings as soon as they arise because when I don’t they soon begin to bite me in the ass!

Travelling for extended periods of time also requires the letting go of specific plans. What I’m talking about here is about not being attached to a schedule of activities. For example, during our stay in Positano on the Amalfi Coast we had planned to go to Pompeii one particular day, but the bus service to the town of Meta, where we would have got the train to Pompeii, had been cancelled due to a rock slide partially blocking the road, so we let go of that plan and went hiking up to Montepertuso instead. We had a great hike up there, got wonderful views of Positano from up high, looked through the enormous hole in the rock, hiked back down at a slower pace to reduce wear and tear on my knees, ate gelatos at the beach, and bought what turned out to be excellent salads for our supper. We may never get to see Pompeii, but so what, no point in feeling upset about it: we had a good day anyway.


Barcelona

We caught an overnight train to Barcelona, which was kind of luxurious (lovely dinner in the dining car with white linen, etc.) but tiny tiny room with two seats that converted into beds (that were surprisingly a really quite reasonable size). The bathroom was tiny too of course, but had all we needed. And the place to keep our cases overnight was in the shower!

Liz, a long-time family friend, met us at the station in Barcelona. I’ve known her since I was about 12 years old, but it had been many years since we’d seen each other. She put us up for nearly a week and was a wonderful host and tour guide for our time there. Thanks Liz!







The top of our “must see” list was, of course, the buildings designed by the architect Antoni Gaudi. He was a genius. A visionary. Way ahead of his time. Or perhaps it’s that he’s completely unique, and timeless. His greatest vision was the Basilica of La Sagrada Familia. But I’ll get to Gaudi later.

Sometimes with Liz as our tour guide, and sometimes on our own, and over several days, we roamed all over Barcelona. We went to the National Museum of the art of Cataluña (swoon); had an authentic Basque lunch, that in true Spanish style lasted a few hours, followed by a long walk around the Gothic Quarter where the streets are named for the original trades that were practiced there; watched a fabulous magical water/light/music performance; went to the Picasso museum; had the most amazing breakfast of fresh squeezed orange juice followed by churros (deep-fried sugar coated pastry - yum) with hot liquid chocolate for dipping and/or drinking (swoon again. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven!); and, of course, visited the Gaudi buildings.

In the Museum of the art of Cataluña (MNAC) all three of us were entranced by the Romanesque art from the churches of Cataluña, and I stayed on a bit longer to have a look at the Gothic section, which I also loved. It’s a lot to take in. I think we only saw a small portion of the collection, but it was enough. It is all beautifully displayed so you can get a really good feel of how it would have been in its original setting.

From the Romanesque churches of the Pyrenees (11th-13th centuries)
A few of my favorites – some because they are amusing, and all for the sheer elegance of design.

Altar fronts













Female Pan





From the Gothic period (end of 13th – 15th centuries)













In front on the museum is a huge fountain and we stayed on into the evening for the magic light/water/music performance that lasted about a half hour. Magical indeed. On our own we wouldn’t have even known about it!





















The Gothic Quarter is one of the sweetest parts of the city













Liz’s local market – would you like some chocolate?





Candy anyone?





Some random images of Barcelona













































We hadn’t really planned anything after Barcelona except we knew we wanted to go to wherever the best weather was in Europe until our return to Canada from Paris on Dec 6th. We had a Eurail Pass and there are direct trains from Barcelona to Madrid and Madrid to Malaga so travel would be easy. Neither place was high on our list, but, well, we’re in Spain and Madrid’s only a train ride away so we might as well go and see Madrid, and Malaga, on the Costa del Sol, will at least be warm. But we didn’t feel wildly enthused about going to either place. Liz to the rescue! She suggested Nerja, a little town a bit up the coast from Malaga. And then offered us the use of her car for a couple of weeks to drive down there! What a gift. Nerja is delightful (with 300 days a year of sun!) and we got to see some of the coast as we drove down. But that’s another story, for another blog post.

And the astonishing and magical buildings of Antoni Gaudi? That deserves a post all of it’s own, so that’s next.