Anniversary Vacation Notes 2017: Day 9: 2/24: Friday: Barcelona

               I'm told there are days when the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain, but on this particular day all the rain in Spain was mainly in Barcelona. It takes more than an overcast sky and a little bit of rain, or even this torrential downpour, though, to darken a day for Seattle habitués.

                Fortunately for the cruising crowd, Barcelona has decided to embrace the daily influx of visitors by creating an entirely new section of the Port of Barcelona specifically to handle cruise-ship habitués. (You find a good word; you work it!)

                We disembarked directly onto a covered walkway, sheltered from the storm, then descended by elevator to a greeting (i.e. customs) area. Instead of the usual queue crowding through a narrow passageway, there was a broad space where passengers could congregate with their various excursion groups. A nearby help-desk offered maps and advice for visitors. Just outside the main doors the buses waited: charter buses for the excursions and ordinary buses for the rest of us. Because we famously don't plan ahead, we boarded one of the ordinary buses for the short trip from the dock to a central Port area just beyond the shoreline.

                It’s possible that this central area had an actual proper name, but we never learned it, and Google maps has not been any help in this quest. I can say that it lies to the east, just across from the Mirador de Colon, the literal translation of which means “Viewpoint of Colon,” but that fails to convey that fact that this almost 200-foot-tall (60-meter) monolith, topped with a giant pointing man, is a monument to Christopher Columbus. The monument sits in the center of a traffic circle, perhaps to allow pedestrians to relive the terror felt by the indigenous Western folk as they watched Columbus and his crew stomp ashore.

                Even before the cruise had begun we knew that we wanted to see the famous Barcelona Cathedral, also called the Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia. Once again we decided on the Hop-On/Hop-Off bus as our primary mode of transportation.

                We purchased our bus tickets in the plaza across from the Mirador de Colon, in front of the most architecturally impressive building we've ever seen without an ostentatious name. It looked like it should have once been a palace, or a grand hotel, but, apparently, it was merely the admin building of the Port of Barcelona.

                The bus stop was about a mile and a half (2 kilometers) away, near a site called the Centre Comercial Maremagnum, a large complex of stores situated on a man-made dock, currently on the other side of the water. We were told that the Centre Comercial Maremagnum is the only place in Barcelona where shops can remain open for business on Sundays and holidays. Apparently being on a made-made island, rather than on solid earth, is all the legal loophole they needed.

                Our location on solid earth was connected to the Centre Comercial Maremagnum by the Rambla de Mar, an uncovered half-bridge, half-quay pedestrian-only walkway. A walk over the water in a light rain just felt like a very Seattleite thing today. 

               

                We had to wait only a few minutes for our bus. We boarded and began our journey to the cathedral.

                The bus dropped us off very close to our destination at the Placa d'Antoni Marua, directly across from the Avenue de la Catedral, which would lead us to the cathedral. While it’s true that the rain-gods may not have been looking down on us favorably on this day, the car-gods more than made up the slight.

                In the middle of the plaza outside the cathedral we happened upon a car show, with some pretty spectacular European vehicles. There were rally cars, race cars, classic cars, and more than a few home-grown Seats—the Spanish-made automobiles, not the furniture.

                After several minutes of ogling, and indulging in some auto-lust, we headed up the stairs to the cathedral entrance.

                We’ve visited several cathedrals over the years. Some, such as Notre Dame, are majestically dark, where even the smallest nook is filled with artistic masterpieces, but the overall effect is a brooding solemnity. More common in Italy, and especially in St. Peters, is the over-adornment, the bright colors and artwork that attempt to infuse life into the inanimate.

                The Barcelona Cathedral was neither of these. I’d have to say that my first impression of the Barcelona Cathedral was one of enormity. It was huge, and it was also dark, but not cave-like. Where Italy has a brilliance of gold and color, and France mixes gold and stone, the breathtaking woodwork in Barcelona is an array of earth-tones. Carved wood masterworks are featured throughout.

                I don’t mean to suggest that the church is in any way plain. The chapels surrounding the perimeter of the cathedral are all more than adequately appointed with gold leaf, statuary, and paintings that compete with the masters of the Vatican.

                Outside the right arm of the cathedral is a cloister with several alcoves. Most feature sculptures that, if they don’t quite measure up to Michelangelo, don't lack their own beauty. Some of the alcoves are actual burial places, while one is a souvenir shop. In the center of the cloisters is a fountain with several geese who appear to be permanent residents.

                We wound up spending much more of the day than anticipated at the cathedral. We were perhaps less than ten minutes from leaving when I spotted a man tucked away in a corner, dressed in ordinary clothing and sitting by a folding table with a small change box. Behind him was a narrow door with a small sign promising a trip to the rooftop. It’s not every day that you get to go on the roof of a cathedral in Barcelona. We paid the fee and entered the coffin-sized elevator that led to the top.

                I imagine that on a clear day you could see almost forever. This was not a clear day, yet the view was spectacular. Interesting, too, was the fact that there was maintenance work underway, and the roof was being re-tiled. I suppose maintenance is not something I’ve ever associated with buildings that have been standing for centuries; for some reason I’d imagined they maintained themselves all on their own. Now I see, quite sensibly, that it's probably an unending chore.

                After gazing over the glories of the city, we eventually left the cathedral and ventured back out onto the Avenue de la Caterdal with its immense plaza, auto show, sidewalk cafes, and pedestrian walkways.

                The rain stayed at a steady drizzle, so we decided to explore a little more on foot. The area surrounding the cathedral consisted of pedestrian walkways lined with shops both local and international.

               

                We wandered into a walkway, slightly north-west of the cathedral, named the Carrer de la Palla, where we found what appeared to be a promising rooftop restaurant. However, the path to the restaurant led through a head-shop that prominently featured every shape, size, and type of drug paraphernalia imaginable. By the time we reached the stairs the rain had intensified, and it took only a slight glance upward to confirm that eating outdoors was an idea best put off to another day.

                We continued walking and happened upon a small restaurant offering tapas and beer! How could we go wrong? It turns out we couldn’t.

               

                When someone says tapas, the first thing that comes to my Pacific Northwest mind is Spanish sushi. I ordered accordingly, expecting small samples of various dishes. In this I was very wrong. In Barcelona, at least at El Nuo Pi Antic, tapas is Spanish for generous serving of great food served, where appropriate, hot.

               

                After a satisfying lunch we headed in the general direction of the cathedral, likely walking in semi-circles, through walkways wide and narrow, sometimes emerging from a place we’d recently been. Eventually we did make it back to the cathedral, and to our bus. Somewhat exhausted, we stayed on the bus for the remainder of the tour of Barcelona, and didn't disembark until we’d returned someplace near the main Port.

                Naturally, the bus dropped us off at a location we had never seen. The way back to the ship wasn’t clear. Still too early to panic we made a few false moves -- for instance, attempting to board the wrong bus. Eventually we did get it right and made it back to cruise port, where we caroused a bit in the shops. This turned out to be a good thing because it wasn’t until we were about to board the ship that I remembered my daughter’s only request: a keychain from Barcelona. We went back made the purchase and re-boarded the ship, not early, but not in danger of being left behind.

                                                          * * *

                The MSC Splendida is over a thousand feet long, holds almost 4,000 passengers and weighs nearly 140,000 tons. I mention this because you don’t see a ship this size and imagine that it’s about to be tossed around like a paper kite.  I especially never considered this bouncing about could happen in the Mediterranean Sea, which is only the Strait of Gibraltar away from being nothing a big lake.  But that is exactly what happened. Apparently, the rain in Spain had only been the very edge of a huge storm which had situated itself between us and Marseilles.

                All night the winds blew and we could feel the ship rock. Around midnight, crew members were knocking on doors to confirm that all balcony doors were securely locked. If I feared for my life, it soon became apparent that I feared for my lack of sleep even more. I closed my eyes wondering how much roll was built into these vessels. Apparently enough. As far as we could tell, nobody fell off the ship the entire night.