Semana Santa 2: Gaudí, but not Gaudy

My last post about Barcelona touched on modernist architecture and I dropped the names of three famous architects from the late 1800s.  If you've read the title of this post, you can probably guess which one I'm going to continue talking about (Hint: it's not Puig i Cadafalch or Doménech i Montaner).

To appreciate Gaudí, there are a few key elements that you have to keep in mind: nature, geometry, and religion.  Representations of the natural world have been present in architecture since Biblical times.  For example, when Solomon built the temple, the tops of the pillars were adorned with carvings of pomegranates.  Gaudí took this idea one step further: he didn't just decorate his buildings with various elements of nature, he specifically designed his creations to imitate natural phenomena.  A good example of this can be found in Park Guell, which definitely deserved more than the couple of hours that I was able to spend there.  Here's a picture of an elevated pathway in the park; notice how the columns are designed to imitate tree trunks.

Pictured: a woodpecker's worst enemy.

As far as geometry goes, it's pretty clear that Gaudí knew his stuff.  He was a particular fan of using "ruled surfaces" which, in layman's terms, means that he used a bunch of straight lines to make a curve.  Doesn't seem like all that big of a deal when you put it that way, but keep in mind that he was the first to experiment with these new structures; he had no precedents to tell him whether they would succeed or fail.  Of course, they did succeed and his impressive use of curves still manages to produce quite an effect.  Here's one of the buildings at the entrance to Park Guell; he employs his signature-style curves in a way that I can only describe as "whimsical."

All these lines make a curve, all these lines make a curve, all these lines...

The final thing to keep in mind about Gaudí is the fact that he was a devout Catholic.  Religion had a profound effect on Gaudí's life and his work, which can be seen clearly in his masterwork, the basilica of La Sagrada Familia.  Of all the cathedrals I've seen so far, I liked this one best.  Sure, it lacks the overwhelming size of the cathedral in Seville or the gaudy, gleaming ornamentation of St. Peter's, but the elegant beauty of La Sagrada Familia left me speechless (those of you who know me can appreciate how difficult that is).

Here's the church, here's the steeple, open the doors...

...and stand in awe with the people

This is a case where pictures are inadequate to give you a good impression of, well, the impression that it has on people.  However, I can at least give it a shot.

Gaudí's use of light is absolutely brilliant.

It's clear that Gaudí obsessed over even the slightest details.  Take the stained glass, for example: he coordinates the colors so that the ambient light transitions smoothly as the sun moves across the sky, and he incorporates names of Christ and of other churches into the windows.  Or take a look at the supports: he uses columns with 6, 8, 10, and 12 sides, each type made from a different kind of stone.  The four 12-sided columns are the largest and occupy a central position.  At the top of each is a representation of each of the gospels as one of the four living creatures in Revelation 4.

Anyway, I could go on for days about the Sagrada Familia, as Hunter Guthrie knows very well by now.  The last thing to mention about Gaudí's magnum opus is that he never got to see it completed.  In fact, neither did I; the building, which was started in 1882, was not even close to being done at the time of Gaudí's death in 1926.  Using designs from Gaudí's notes, construction has been able to continue, but it's not expected to be entirely finished for at least another twelve years.

A work in progress.

Toward the end of his life, Gaudí cloistered himself away inside the unfinished building, working incessantly to bring his masterpiece to fruition.  He was well aware that he would probably not live to see the completion of his masterwork and, when asked about the length of the construction, he replied: "My client is in no hurry; God has all the time in the world."

Semana Santa 1: Apples to Apples

Alright, time to start chronicling my adventures over Holy Week, which is when Spanish students get their Spring Break.  This is going to be the first post of a series, which I hope to finish before the week is over.  So here we go...

The story starts on the evening of Thursday, April 10th, with me stuffing everything I'm going to need for the week into a duffel bag and catching a night train from Madrid to Barcelona.  When I rolled into town, I holstered my trusty camera, stowed my bag in a locker at the station, grabbed a map of the city, and stepped out into the brisk morning air.

My sightseeing plan in Barcelona largely revolved around the works of Antoni Gaudí, one of the most prominent architects of the Modernist style.  The city was actually home to quite a few famous Modernist architects, including a couple of Gaudí's contemporaries: Luis Domenech i Montaner and Josep Puig i Cadafalch.

But before we go anywhere, what is Modernism?  Well, funny that you should ask.  Basically, it's a school of architecture born in the late 1800s, thanks to the Industrial Revolution.  The Modernist style was designed to take advantage of the availability of new materials, such as iron and glass, to construct buildings that would have previously been thought impossible.  This new-found freedom also meant more variety between the styles of individual architects, as you are about to see.  Below are three houses from Barcelona's famous "Block of Discord."  And yes, as a matter of fact, they were designed by the three architects that I mentioned earlier.

La Casa Amatller by Puig i Cadafalch

La Casa Lleó Morera by Domenech i Montaner

La Casa Batlló by Gaudí

Why is it called the "Block of Discord"?  Well, one reason is that the vastly different styles of the three architects don't really mesh all that well.  Keep in mind that two of these houses were actually next door neighbors and the other one is only a couple doors down the street.  For a different perspective on the stylistic differences, check out these close-ups of the windows of each house:

Windows are such a pane.

Cadafalch chooses a more traditional Spanish look, Montaner goes for a sort of neoclassical feel, and who even knows what on earth Gaudí is up to because that crazy building doesn't look like anything that anyone has ever seen before (actually, Gaudí did this a lot).

However, the main reason why this street is called the "Block of Discord" is actually a little more subtle and a lot more clever.  It revolves around the Spanish translation of the word 'block.'  In Latin America, the word for 'block' is 'cuadro', but here in Spain, we use the word 'manzana' instead.  So the literal name in Spanish is "La Manzana de la Discordia."  Now, if you were paying attention in Spanish class, you should know that 'manzana' is also the word for 'apple.'  And if you're familiar with Greek mythology, you might remember that the Apple of Discord was given to Paris, who was then supposed to award it to the fairest of three goddesses (Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite).

And now you see the parallel: a mythological contest between the three most well-known Greek goddesses and a bit of a rivalry between the three most well-known Modernist architects.  And at the core of both competitions, a single 'apple.'

x

Happy Easter!

What's up, everyone?  I know it's been a while since my last post, but I've been rather busy of late.  Recently, I've made quite a few trips, including going to Portugal with some friends from my study abroad program and travelling across Italy with a one Hunter Guthrie.  Needless to say, I've also accumulated some wonderful stories and pictures, which will be forthcoming.  In the meantime, I thought I'd just poke my head in for a quick "Hello" to let y'all know that I'm still alive and well.  

And of course, happy Easter.  He is risen...

Happy St. Patrick's Day II

Here in Madrid, we're enjoying those precious few weeks in the month of March that come just after the cold and rainy month of February and just before the warm and rainy month of April.  Spring is sort of a strange thing here in Madrid.  And when I say "strange," what I mean is that if you ask a madrileño about spring in Madrid, they might give you a funny look and ask if you meant to say "winter" or "summer;" apparently, there's not a whole lot in between.

But anyway, the last couple weeks have been beautiful and I've had the chance to hike around some of the parks in Madrid enjoying the local scenery and greenery.

This post brought to you by the color green.

The above picture was taken in the Parque del Oeste, which is but a mere fifteen-minute walk from my house.  Also, the camera's not crooked: the trees are just growing on an incline like that.  Incidentally, slanted trees are my favorite kind; if you can find one that is just the right angle (preferably not a "right angle"), you can lean back quite comfortably and read an enjoyable book.  Or, in this case, a slightly less enjoyable book, which is what I ended up doing.

So there I was, slouched up against my organic reclining chair, doing some reading for one of my classes, when I happened across a peculiar species of bird that I'd never seen before.  I actually didn't notice them at first because they were camouflaged so well with the grass.

A feisty and festively-feathered friend.

This one was a little easier to see, thanks to the fact that some of the trees still don't have their leaves out yet.

Look at the birdie!

I asked Marcela (the daughter of our señora) about them and she sighed and rolled her eyes, which I suppose is the Universal Body Language for "Invasive Species."  Although, I've also seen girls use the same mannerism in reference to annoying boyfriends, which leads me to hypothesize that perhaps the female mind is capable of equating "boyfriend" with "invasive species" in a manner not previously considered.^{[ citation needed ]}

Marcela informed me that these birds are called cotorras.  If you look up the word "cotorra" in a Spanish-English dictionary, you will find that it means "chatty, loud, talkative, chatterbox" and that a derivative of the word can also mean "gossip."  This is not a coincidence.  Not only are these birds an invasive species, they are an obnoxious invasive species.  They're not that bad in the afternoon, to be sure, but if you live next to a cotorra habitat, you can expect to wake up to a group of chatty, loud, talkative chatterboxes gossiping just outside your window.  Apparently, the city of Madrid has been trying (unsuccessfully, of course) to get rid of them for quite a while now.

Those of you who are in the know (or who have been reading the blog with an exceptional amount of perspicacity) may have a pretty good idea what method I would suggest for the extermination of small birds...

Hint: It begins with "El Búho Oscuro" and ends with "lots of green feathers strewn about the place."

Pigging Out: Spanish Cuisine

It's high time that I did a post on Spanish food.  Actually, it's high time that I did any kind of post, but that's beside the point.  

Suffice it to say that they take their food seriously here, which is evidenced by the fact that meals tend to take a long time and nobody eats on the run.  I'm a little surprised that many of my classmates don't like the food here, because I'm practically in hog heaven.  Especially considering that Spaniards are absolutely crazy about anything that comes from a pig (yes, it could be said that they go "hog wild").  I suspect that whoever invented Spanish cuisine decided to come up with the least-kosher menu possible: in addition to eating ham all the time, I've also had many a dish with octopus tentacles, calamari, mussels, clams, shrimp, and other assorted seafood.  Which brings me to a little known fact: Spain is actually the second-highest consumer of seafood per capita (behind Japan, naturally).

For those of you who are interested, here are some classic Spanish foods:

Paella--It's officially the national dish of Spain, which is why I give it first billing.  Basically, it contains rice, vegetables, and meat; there's really no "right" way to make it, unless you ask someone from Valencia (they're particularly persnickety about the preparation of paella).  I've had at least five different types of paella so far, ranging from the traditional (chicken, rice, peppers, saffron, etc.)  to the unconventional (calamari, shrimp, and squid ink, which colors the whole dish black).

Jamón--You can't even talk about Spanish food without mentioning the ham.  The most famous type of ham is the jamón ibérico, which is quite simple to prepare.  All you have to do is go to the kitchen and shave off a few small pieces of ham from the giant pig's leg sitting on your counter.  Oh, you don't have one of those?  Well, I should probably warn you: quality Iberian ham can be pretty expensive (somewhere in the neighborhood of $90 per pound).  One more thing: they preserve it before they sell it to you, so you always eat it uncooked.  Over the time I've been here, I would guess that my weekly consumption of raw meat has increased by at least 98 percent.

Tortilla española--Not to be confused with a Mexican tortilla, the Spanish tortilla is more like a frittata.  You make it with eggs and thinly-sliced potatoes and you throw in other ingredients (for example, ham) as you see fit.  Oh, and in case you're curious about which came first, the corn/flour tortilla or the egg, I've been told that the Spanish tortilla is actually an imitation (don't ask me how) of the Mexican tortilla.

Croquetes--Imagine the short, fat cousin of a mozzarella stick, except filled with a creamier type of cheese.  Croquetes originally came from French cuisine, but Spain adopted them and adapted them to create a distinctly Spanish flavor.  How did they do this?  They added ham, naturally.

Chocolate con churros--It's exactly what it sounds like: chocolate + churros = yum.  You get a delicious batch of freshly fried churros and a cup of melted chocolate to dip them in.  Enough said.

Napolitano--I decided to throw this one in, not because it's a very iconic Spanish food per se, but rather because it's one of my personal favorites.  It's a flaky pastry topped with a light glaze and filled with either chocolate or cream.  Those of you who know me can probably guess which one I like better.

Has Anybody Seen the Bridge?

Last weekend, my housemate and I took a day trip to Cuenca, which is famous mainly for two things: the Bridge of Saint Paul and the Casas Colgadas (Hanging Houses).  Why are they called the "Hanging Houses"?  This:

Saves a lot of time mowing the yard.

Basically, Cuenca is divided into two parts: Lower Cuenca, which is the area of town where most people live, and Upper Cuenca, which is the more historic area.  And they obviously picked those names for a reason (I'll give you a hint: it's not just because one of them is farther north).  Compare the following two pictures, both taken from the aforementioned bridge:

Lower

Upper

I was basically standing in the same spot for both pictures; the only thing I had to do was make an about face.  The division between the two districts is pretty striking, is it not?

Walking around the city, I got the impression that they took the "city on a hill" idea from Matthew 5 and ran wild with it.  Speaking of running, that is exactly the thing that I would not like to do in this city (not that I'd like to run anywhere else either, but that's beside the point).  For instance, check out the following hill/sidewalk/set of steps(?).  It still doesn't make any sense to me, and that's after having looked at it for quite a while.

A "stare-case", if you will.

We visited a couple of modern art museums (one of which was actually inside the Hanging Houses!) and did some general meandering.  After trekking about town for a bit, we traveled north, outside the city, to hike the surrounding countryside.  Accompanying us on our little nature walk was a cold, windy drizzle, which (it could be said) put a damper on the experience.  However, the clouds rolling in over the hills also led to some truly sublime panoramic views.

(...words fail me)

And we also happened to stumble across this little oddity:

The hills have eyes?

Well, there you have it: the main sights of Cuenca.  If you were paying attention at the beginning, however, you may be thinking, "Yes, but where is that confounded bridge?"

Right here.

To put things in perspective for you, here's another picture of the same bridge that I took from inside one of the Hanging Houses:

Mind the gap...

Oh, by the way...

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! (for those of you who know what I'm talking about)