I heart Gaudi

I am skipping a large section of our trip here but I feel that enough shite literature has been written about Tuscany and we don’t need to add to the pile. The light is golden, the wine is fantastic and the tomatoes are “booodifooool”…enough said. We crossed the boarder into France via a brief stopover in Cinque Terra to be welcomed by flash flooding and chaos forcing us to escape north into Provence. After three days driving through lavender and musk scented fields and gorging ourselves sick on the local speciality “chevre” and “vin rouge” we headed south and crossed the boarder into Cataluñan Espange.

Some countries, like people, just feel right and after spending so long in uptight, superstitious, guilt-ridden, closed-minded Italia, Spain felt like a breath of fresh air. Our first port of call was a craggy, ancient, white-washed fishing village on the Costa Brava called Cadaques. Home to Salvador Dali for many years, the eccentric painter’s bohemian and anarchistic streak has left an indelible mark on this town with beatniks, hippies, fringe dwellers and outcasts flocking to soak up a bit of it’s rugged charm. After two lazy days spent basking in the sun we packed up Chloe and headed south for Barcelona. It wasn’t long before we were staring up at our first Gaudi structure in awe and with cultish admiration.

Before I came to Barcelona I ashamedly knew very little about the great man or his buildings but I am now a card-carrying Gaudian. For years I have wondered why we insist on

surrounding ourselves with boring straight edges, encasing ourselves in ridged boxes and neglecting the wondrous and liberating curves and spirals of the natural world. I naively assumed it wasn’t possible to build in a manner that reflected the freedom and wisdom of nature but here in front of me where all these magnificent structures proving me wrong! Never in my life have I seen something built by man that matches the awe-inspiring beauty of nature but I must say that Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia comes very close. Walking into the cathedral I felt a spine-tingling rush of excitement as I looked up and realised that this colossal structure was designed to resemble a living, breathing rain forest built entirely from concrete, iron, glass and stone. A catholic cathedral designed as a tribute to the power, wonder and glory of nature…who’d have guessed?!

My newfound positive regard for the religious institution was, however, short-lived. Our trip to Montserrat, an ancient but still-functioning monastery set atop a limestone promontory left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. Throngs of Catholics make the pilgrimage to this sacred site to touch or kiss the head of the “black Madonna”, a metal statue of the Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus. Sitting in the basilica of Montserrat for a mere ten minutes we saw at least a hundred people, one after the other kiss the head of this statue. We also witnessed several people holding their hands over a bush

in the centre of a square as if willing the magical plant to heal them. Deciding it was all a bit too much for us we headed for our car via the shop to get some bread for lunch. I handed two bread rolls to the shop assistant who put them through the register and asked for 4 euros. Was the bread hand-made by the monks themselves with holy water and wheat grown on consecrated land? In any other town or city this bread would have cost 70 cents at the most. We politely walked away from the purchase and took a final look around the shop, which can best be described as a MacCatholic outlet. “I love Montserrat” t-shirts, mugs, fridge magnets, pencils and pens, framed photos of the Pope outside the monastery, DVDs and CDs of mass services at the basilica, pieces of relics, photos of relics…you name it, they sold it. I couldn’t help but think…where does God come into all of this and how can monks living only meters away from this outlet of mass consumerism ever hope to detach from the material world? I guess if some of it goes into funding the still to be completed Sagrada Familia…who cares right???