Gaudí: The Genius Lunatic

I slept heartily, and woke to a lit room with people talking and packing. I felt more tired and exhausted than I had the previous nights, when I had spent the entire night dancing. Maybe I am a real party girl after all? At a reasonable hour, I gently shook Jackster awake because the itinerary was calling! I swear that girl takes happy pills; she sat right up smiling. Rather disarming.

Anyway, Ms. Adorable and I finished getting ready and headed out. We walked to see Gaudí's Sagrada Família, and now it's confession time. I had been told by both a Canadian and a Brazilian that the inside of this cathedral is not really anything to write home about. Mauro — the Brazilian — even said that it took away the magic for him because there is so much construction going on inside. I know you only live once and all that stuff, but I really didn't want to let go of those 10 euros...so I parked myself on a park bench while Jackie dutifully checked out the inside. There was a nice breeze, and I like people-watching. I tried to pick out who was a tourist and who was a local. Locals can spot tourists so easily, and I honestly can't understand it. The other day a man called out that he liked my red lipstick. Then, without hearing me speak, asked, "Are you French or Canadian?" He didn't get my nationality right, but he knew I was an out-of-towner. Maybe she was just being polite, but Jackie didn't rave too much when she came out, so I didn't feel completely terrible. I do feel like a Philistine though.

From there we made the hike to Casa Milà, another one of Gaudí's inspired buildings. I did shell out 5 euros there, and admittedly regretted it (ha!). The 5 euros got us entrance to the inside of the apartment building, where it was decorated in Modernista style. The audioguide had some interesting things to say, but I was too ADHD to really pay attention, and I wasn't too impressed by the furnishings. It was a poor man's children's museum, that's for sure! We then went to the much-talked-about attic, where again, I was not incredibly intrigued. It's a neat structure, and clearly demonstrates Gaudí's genius as an architect, but I wanted breathtaking. Because there is a small museum in the attic, its potential for a slightly ominous atmosphere is diminished.

The rooftop, though! That, I could get on board with. It has all the charm and novelty I was craving. Large, imposing, abstract stone sculptures decorated the rooftop, with stairs of varying size going up and down all over the place. The view of the city was beautiful, although I must sheepishly admit that I felt like I was in San Francisco. Maybe the fact that I am a Seattleite born and raised means I think anywhere with warmer weather must be Cali... I had raced ahead of Jackie, impatient at the audioguide, so I had a long time to wander the roof. I noticed an overdressed girl (overly trendy, that is) taking self-timed photos, so I offered to play photographer. The girl's incredibly lackluster response was very amusing. She handed me the camera and nodded her head nonchalantly, like she was doing me a favor. Meeting, or at least even interacting with, people has been (and probably always will be) my favorite part about traveling.

Outside of Casa Milà, I butted into a conversation a New Yorker was having with a woman selling tickets to the apartment tour. I could tell he wanted to see weird abstract decoration, just like I did, so I showed him photos on my camera to prove that the apartment wasn't very interesting. I am so cheap that it's not enough for me to save money; I have to ensure strangers follow suit.

Exhausted and overheated, Jackie and I remained in high spirits. Rejuvenated by the pretty view and some Gatorade, we marched on to Gaudí's next spectacle — Parc Güell. It was very hot in the very vast park, and chock-full of people, mostly tourists. It was spectacular nonetheless, and Jackie and I wandered aimlessly, in high spirits, looking at the high views. I thought back to my Casa Milà audioguide, and remembered a quote from it. Someone bestowing an award upon Gaudí had proclaimed that he didn't know whether they were honoring a genius or a lunatic. As I walked through this park, I definitely got the sense that Gaudí's imagination was vivid enough to qualify him as crazy, and his intellect sharp enough to carry out the dreams of his imagination. I felt like I was somewhere special, in a place that could never be replicated.

— Zoe

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