I am sitting on the balcony of our apartment in Salamanca in the warm morning sun, overlooking the grand Universidad Pontifica, the church of the University of Salamanca, established in the 1400s, in one direction and the church of XX in the other. We arrived in Salamanca yesterday after another grueling overnight train from Barcelona to Madrid and then a relatively quick 2.5 hour hop by bus to this university town in the western frontier of Spain. We’re only a couple hours from Portugal now and we’re all excited to get to Ilhavo to see my parents. In fact when we discovered after Peter, Paul and Steve’s initial foray to look for accommodations that it was as costly as Barcelona and the other larger cities of Italy, we nearly caught a bus directly to Portugal. Hungry and tired from our overnight bus trip, we resisted this initial temptation in favor of spending a few days exploring this town, pulsating with humanity, history and culture.

We found an apartment down a little side street off the main plaza at Pension Lisboa (on the top-most floor of our building). When the proprietor showed us the place, we were surprised to see painted storks roosting at the upper most towers and chambers of both churches as we had seen these in great numbers on winter migration in western India at Keoladeo National Bird Sanctuary. The proprietor explained that these particular storks apparently find the winters tolerable or have joined a lay order of the church because they are year-round residents of the surrounding cathedrals! After settling into the apartment, Peter, Paul and I set off to explore the prime attractions—Plaza Mayor, Universidad Pontifica and the Catedrals. We couldn’t resist treating ourselves to an ice cream cone on this sultry afternoon and sitting on a bench in Plaza Mayor, admiring the grand aura of this 18th century square designed by Jose Churriguera (after which the architectural style, Churrigueresque, is named) without the hoards of people in the quiet of the mid-afternoon Spanish siesta. We looked for the music store where I purchased my beautiful classical guitar 30-odd years ago (what Salamanca is most famous for as far as my children are concerned) and found one just off the square but of course it was closed for the siesta hour.

We passed the great stone buildings of the university and its cathedral and finally came to the square just outside the Catedral Nuevo (New Cathedral), built in the 1600s beside the old Romanesque cathedral. The front entrance to this Gothic masterpiece boldly depicts, in stone relief, Jesus’ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem, the King of Glory humbly riding a donkey as believers flocked to greet him and pay him homage by laying palms in his path. Inside the cathedral, Gothic columns outline the interior of the church. As we passed an English couple, the man of the pair openly empathized with my limp, the result of a strained ligament in my upper thigh, and we began to chat. Apparently, his wife suffered from a similar affliction that was also taking a long time to heal. He also really identified with the children and urged me to "go easy on the churches" with my boys and, instead, to give them ample opportunity to play futebol! Our path wound through the older part of Salamanca to a rose garden overlooking the Tormes River and finally to an old Roman bridge that crossed the river. Eager to meet up with Peter again, who had gone on one of his infamous solo expeditions, we climbed back up the side of the hill, to the convent and church of St. Steven. On the façade depicted in stone relief is the martyrdom of St. Steven in which he is stoned to death. Ironically, the apostles, Peter and Paul, are also depicted, appearing to accompany him in his distress, an allegory for Steven and his two boys, Peter and Paul!

We followed the green grocery bags to a larger supermarket in town and purchased the makings of a simple dinner and breakfast. We ate both meals from our balcony, admiring the view of the churches in all directions.

Eager to experience the real spirit of Salamanca, Steve and I took a night stroll through the streets of Salamanca, visiting many of the same monuments we had seen that day, their Spanish Gothic architecture accentuated by the illumination of spotlights. By night this old city appears perpetually young, its streets, plazas and cafes teeming with students. Back at Plaza Mayor, I enjoyed a second scoop of ice cream amidst the throngs simmering in the cool of the square. One fellow was sprawled out on the ground, presumably fast asleep. A group of what looked like basketball players passed very close to him. After they had passed, he jumped up, itching to instigate a fight. We watched as one of the athletes spent quite of bit of time with him talking him down. Finally satisfied that his honor was in tact, he returned to collect his belongings and ambled off!

After breakfast, we set off for the sea today by way of several principal churches. At Santa Maria del Mar cathedral, we searched for the FC Barcelona stained glass window that was supposed to be in the church. After several laps around this huge Gothic cathedral, we still had not found it so I asked a janitor at the back of the church where it was. He knew exactly what I was talking about and pointed us in the right direction. When we were not able to find it, another janitor, noticing we were wandering around aimlessly, led us by hand to the elusive panel. Finally, we spotted it. In an awkward position tucked behind a column, there it was—the FC Barcelona emblem etched in the upper quadrant of a stained glass panel. The church, which translates to Mother Mary of the Sea, reminded me of Our Lady of Good Voyage in Gloucester, the church where my parents were married and I was baptized. An arc of columns encompasses the heart of the church and altar. On the central stained glass panel on the altar were the grapevine, grapes, and the body and blood of Christ, emphasizing a reoccurring theme from John 15: "I am the vine and you are the branches. Bear much fruit."

We hooked back up with Las Ramblas all the way to Barcelona’s waterfront, where Steve had seen a display of a gigantic Adidas ball the day before. Peter and Paul had envisioned a picnic in the park next to this icon of futebol but unfortunately they were dismantling it when we arrived. We ate lunch on a picnic bench overlooking the seaside boardwalk while Peter contemplated how he might lift one of the segments of the Adidas ball, stow it in his luggage and bring it home to display in our front yard as the epitome of modern sports art!

Peter, Paul and I definitely wanted to see Parc Guell, also created by Antoni Gaudi and a UNESCO world Heritage site, so we left Steve at the beach, found our way to the metro line, dropped off G-ma at Las Ramblas and continued north to the Gracia neighborhood. Like Hendricks Park in Eugene, Oregon, the land was first owned by a wealthy citizen, Eusebi Guell, Gaudi’s good friend. Guell originally envisioned the project as an exclusive residential garden neighborhood, showcasing the most advanced town planning ideas in Europe at the time, but, when it proved unsuccessful, the city of Barcelona purchased the land from Guell’s heirs and converted into a public park for everyone to enjoy. Gaudi worked on this project from 1900 through 1914, the town council acquired it in 1918, it was named a public park in 1923, and it became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1984. Also like Hendricks Park, it required a steep uphill climb to reach. At the eastern gate, we climbed to a look-out at the top of Bald Mountain, the hill on which the park is perched, to a tower built in the typical style of the park—the walls that enclose the park and the pathways and terraces throughout the park are created from rock debris—where we had a fantastic view of Barcelona and the park. We followed the undulating walls of rock on the switchback trails into the heart of the park, where most of the decorative structures in the park are congregated. We descended into this enchanting land of Gaudi through the core of a wave crashing to the shore, all made of rock debris set in concrete! At the end of these helicoidal columns at the entrance to the main plaza was the caryatid of Gaudi’s kingdom, the Portic de la Bugadera, a washerwoman standing with elegant poise, one hand on her hip, the other supporting her basket full of laundry, all made of rubble as well. In ancient Greece, a caryatid was a princess or handmaiden who attended to the gods and goddesses, and there is a lovely ensemble of caryatids in a temple across from the Parthenon, the temple of Athena. In typical Gaudi fashion, it is this lovely washerwoman, commanding and stately in her own right, who heralds the arrival of visitors to Gaudi’s whimsical court. (Gaudi actually lived in this complex before he moved to La Sagrada Familia.) In the plaza, we sat on the continuous bench fashioned right from the undulating outer wall that delineates the perimeter of the plaza. The wall is covered in ceramic pieces of a rich color spectrum, one hue blending into the next, like a rainbow spreading across the wall. Down the sweeping stairs on either side, we entered the Column Room and the Greek Theatre, populated with dozens of graceful ionic columns of a light-colored stone. These elegant columns buttress the ceiling, which is made of inlaid ceramic the color of sand and undulates like small waves lapping at the shore. Set in the ceiling are several large medallions depicting decorative suns bursting into brilliant rays of burnt red, gold, pink and blue ceramic pieces, as well as scenes of marine environs, a crashing wave in aqua marine and a peach-colored octopus-like creature. Because of the lightness of the columns and ceiling, this ballroom emanates an ethereal aura of lightness of being. While we were there, a musician was playing classical guitar and the melodies seemed to dance around us, further casting us in a spell of enchantment. A grand double staircase leads to the main entrance of the park. The flights of stairs are separated by small islands, animated with colorful sculptures. The most famous of these sculptures is a dragon of ceramic pieces of various hues of blue, yellow, and green. He faces visitors approaching from the main entrance, water cascading from his open mouth studded with teeth. The dragon emerges from an open cave and a towering emblem of the Catalan flag. At the entrance of the main gate are two oval gingerbread houses, one trimmed with a swirling blue chimney topped with a Latin 4-armed cross and the other bedecked with a tower with a small cupola in the shape of a mushroom of the variety, Amanita muscaria. The latter is now a concessionary and we were able to climb to an upper floor and look through the upper window in the shape of a cross.

You encounter street performers of all varieties at all hours of the night and day on Las Ramblas. Most are human statues assuming clever poses. One of Steve’s favorites was a guy on the can. If a passerby dropped a coin in his hat, he simulated finishing his business and flushing the toilet! Another clever fellow had rigged a set-up where only his face appeared with a baby bonnet in a stroller. Strange! But perhaps my favorite human statue was a guy that Paul and I saw on our last day as we were running to and from the Nike store to buy official FC Barcelona socks. He was simulating a business man on the run. Here he was, a statue, frozen in a position that conveyed forceful forward momentum, his tie, jacket and hair flying backwards and a brief case flung behind him from the arm that trailed his body! One guy, however, portrayed a very whiny golden angel on a pedestal. The only thing he ever did was pout and sob as people passed, which, since we had to pass him several times a day, became very tiresome!

The room in our hostel faced Las Ramblas, and one evening we were well entertained by the best act of all—a mime of the vintage of Charlie Chaplin. Paul was getting ready to go to bed when this very talented street performer caught his attention. Soon Peter had joined him at the window and G-ma and I followed as their hearty peals of laughter drew us to the window too. This clever mime artist had positioned himself on the walkway in between two outdoor cafes to maximize his audience, luring the diners in with his funny antics, just as he had done with us from our 4th floor window. His act essentially involved interacting with unsuspecting pedestrians walking down the boulevard and eliciting their reactions, a creative form of the original reality TV, the 1970s show, "Candid Camera." He would walk up to a group of people, tiptoe behind them and tickle or scare one of the party. One time, he played tug-a-war with someone’s suitcase and another time, he put his had and clown nose on the male of a couple and took off in the opposite direction with his arm around the female! More impressively, he managed to pull off his antics without being obnoxious, and the good-natured, candid reactions he elicited were hilarious—one woman screamed, some people ran, and most were quite amused. We loved him and, eager to be "extras" in his show, tried to find him in action the next night, but, alas, he had apparently relocated his stage.

The day had finally come to visit Camp Nou, the home of FC Barcelona (Futebol Club of Barcelona), Paul’s favorite professional futebol team. Paul had studied Lonely Planet and knew exactly what Metro we had to take to get there. As we made it all the way around the stadium to the entrance, we became more and more excited, wondering if Ronaldinho, Paul’s favorite player, was somewhere on the premises. Paul even checked out all the cars parked inside to see if he might spot his car, what we assumed would be a flashy sports car of an Italian vintage with a distinctive license plate! There were traces of the celebration that took place here just the week before when FC Barcelona won the Champions League Cup in Paris—flags pronouncing the victory (unfortunately) securely affixed to the light poles and various remnants of the cardboard cups fans waved. Once we rounded the corner to the admissions office, the popularity of this club was evident by the long lines and throngs of people congregated at the entrance of the museum. The atmosphere was entirely different than our visit to the stadium of AC Milan in Milano. We were one of just a few people at the small gift shop at AC Milan; one sales clerk was chatting with a group of people while another was quietly sorting inventory. At the large, two-story gift shop at FC Barcelona, there were six check-out stations and long lines even to make a purchase, and there was definitely no one available to go and retrieve an old game program from the back, like we were able to do at AC Milan!

As we walked through the sky causeway to the museum, we passed displays of football equipment over the decades. The early years up until the 1970s looked so primitive, the shoes and balls were made of rough, raw, brown leather and the cleats consisted of nails in the bottom of the shoes. The display for the 1970s was missing, but when we came to the display case for the 1980s, the difference in the sophistication of the equipment with the advent of Nike was nothing short of astounding. Nike literally revolutionized the sports industry with their high tech shoes and equipment. Incredible! FC Barcelona was established when a group of local Catalonians approached Swiss businessman Joan Gamper with the proposition of forming a public futebol club. Gamper supported the idea and, on November 29, 1899, FC Barcelona was born. It didn't take long for the team to gain momentum. By 1909 they had won 9 Catalonian and 5 Spanish championships and by 1923 they had won their first European championship cup. For the club's 25th birthday, they got a new stadium, Les Corts Stadium, which was reverently referred to as the "Cathedral of Football!" The club was conceived and has remained a publicly owned company, something Paul and I did not know and that definitely sparked our curiosity. We noted this and plan to have Steve research this as an investment prospect! Over its illustrious 100 years, the club's membership has swelled from 32 in 1899 to 131,000 in 2005. As did all aspects of civil society, the club suffered during war and oppressive regimes, especially WWII and Franco’s fascist dictatorship. Membership declined to an all-time low and the stadium was confiscated, shutting down all operations for a very black period in the team’s history. However, as soon as the stadium was repossessed and the team began to perform their magic again, FC Barcelona lured the crowds back and quickly rebuilt its strong base of support. In the late 1990s, a campaign was launched to actively promote the club internationally, attracting members from several other countries across the world. The countries of origin of these international members are denoted on a world map, and Paul and I definitely want to get Eugene, Oregon, on this map! They're doing something right because in 1979 for the Euro Cup finals they were able to mobilize 30,000 fans to cheer the team to victory. At the end of the museum was a large screen airing a video of scenes from the recent champions league champions series and finals, and we cheered as Ronaldinho, Paul's favorite player, Eto'o, Messi, Beletti, and the rest of the talented FC Barcelona players performed their spectacular stunts on the field.** Much to Paul’s delight, the silver cup was there on display, and Paul was so excited to gaze at it in a kind of mesmerized reverie and bask in the glory of his favorite team! FC Barcelona consists of other sports as well, but of course, futebol overshadows them all, though we were impressed with the club’s basketball center, a towering giant from Eastern Europe (2.15 meters tall), with the funny name, "Fucka." From the museum, we were able to go directly into the stadium and admire the view of the field from a mid range view. We decided to sit in the stands and have a snack, trying to soak in the energy of this place. Peter saw some FC Barcelona security tape and, as inconspicuously as Peter is capable of being, made his way over to the far side of the cornered off area. He had taken one end off and it looked like he might get away with the heist when all of a sudden one of the security guards began approaching him and shaking his head wildly, no, no, no, no! Fortunately, it looked like he was just fooling around instead of trying to take a segment of tape because he got off with only a reprimand! We decided it was time to move on, this time to try to procure a blade of grass from these hallowed grounds and so followed the arrows to the field. Down the stairs and through the tunnel and there we were, right at the foot of the field. We could almost feel the thunder of the crowds cheering our entry through the players’ tunnel. The field was well staffed with security guards and unfortunately, once again, our attempts to acquire a free souvenir were thwarted. Even G-ma, pouring on her most beguiling sweet, ol' grandmotherly charm, was denied! At the field were the posh players’ seats, though I certainly couldn't sit in one of those to watch a game. Soccer is just too exciting for that kind of chair. Who wants to relax at a highly charged, action-packed futebol game?! Reserve that for the decompression period after the victory, eh? Anyway, we continued on the tour, through the players' lounge and locker rooms and came to a VIP set of seats. Now these were cushioned regular seats, perfect for enjoying the game, especially the "soft" kerplunk of the rear end back in the seat after a particularly exciting play. We decided this was a fantastic place to have lunch. I asked the security guard and it appeared that it was O.K. to eat so we got out the grub and began distributing it. Right in the middle of the process, we were once again stopped by the security guards. We apparently were not supposed to eat in these chairs. We had to pack up the food and head to the next bank of chairs. Further up with a fantastic aerial view of the field were the seats reserved for the media, unenclosed so that the reporters can feel and capture the fervor of the game in their coverage. Blessedly free of security personnel, these seats came with tables for the reporters’ writing implements so we settled there to finally finish our lunch. On our way back down to the exit, we finally seemed to break away from the constant security surveillance and Peter was able to get a wad of FC Barcelona tape. Mission accomplished, at last.

Our last stop was the club store and it was as crowded as all the other attractions. There were long lines at all six of the cash registers and when we asked for old programs, like we were able to do at AC Milan, the lady though nice was not able to help us. While Paul carefully checked out the entire inventory of FC Barcelona memorabilia and eventually found a few affordable trinkets, Peter enjoyed watching the Nike commercials of various futebol players being aired on the televisions throughout the store.

*with the exception of Maxi. I’m not sure where he is from but in FC Barcelona’s last Spanish league game, most of the team’s top players did not play since, because of their rankings, they had already won the Spanish cup. Peter, Paul and I watched in disbelief as Maxi committed one error after another and led FC Barcelona to a 3-1 loss! Even though the results of the game didn’t impact their standing, it was still an embarrassment. None of us had ever seen Maxi before and when I made the remark that perhaps he had a bad game, neither of them showed any mercy whatsoever. Peter corrected me and said, "No, he had a wretched game!" and Paul wrote him off entirely, saying that, with a performance as pathetic as that, he has no business being on FC Barcelona, he was a disgrace to the team!

In anticipation of visiting Barcelona and the home of the famous soccer club FC Barcelona, Paul has been researching Barcelona for the past several weeks and designing our itinerary. So, today, he was our tour guide. Our first order of business was to check prices for FC Barcelona souvenirs on Paul’s list along Las Ramblas, a broad esplanade through the heart of the old city, lined with street performers, souvenir booths and cafes. We saw the blue roses this pedestrian walkway is famous for and tried our hand at bargaining for some of the souvenirs that Paul liked but found the vendors pretty hard-nosed compared to experiences in other countries. Having arrived at one end of Las Ramblas, the Placa Catalunya, a plaza in the round, we set off down Passeig de Gracia, another grand boulevard, on a tour of some of the famous works of Antoni Gaudi, one of Barcelona’s most celebrated and the world’s most eccentric architects. Born to a family of humble means, Gaudi suffered from arthritis as a young child. Unable to run and play with the other children, Gaudi instead immersed himself in the meticulous study of nature, cultivating a rich appreciation and understanding of the designs and patterns of the natural world in stones, trees, flowers, and insects and a fertile imagination. This shy, introverted child was also deeply drawn to spiritual contemplation, fostered by his early experiences at a Catholic primary school for the children of poor families housed in the old convent of St. Francis. The fusion of this love of nature and fervent religiosity were to become the signature of his artistic expression as an architect. Not a particularly exemplary student, Gaudi did demonstrate aptitude in drawing, architecture and manual work, and, as a young adult, enrolled in a technical school of architecture. His career exploded when he was "discovered" by a noted and cultured businessman Eusebi Guell and his reputation began to spread among the aristocracy of Catalan society. Inspired by their mutual love of Catalan culture and language, Guell and Gaudi became lifelong friends, and this passion for the Catalan heritage is expressed in Gaudi’s work, as evidenced by the coat of arms on the lampposts in the square where we stayed in Barcelona, Placa Reial, and on the many private residences he designed. Still, what stands out as the most salient quality of Gaudi’s work is his singularly unique and whimsical style.

Down Passeig de Gracia, we kept craning our necks to spot the first stop on the tour, Casa Batllo. It was late morning, and, although the bright midday light washed the façade, it was still an enchanting spectacle with a sprinkling of fairy dust of a mosaic of subdued blue, yellow, green and red stones across its exterior; rooftop spine of scales of shiny, ceramic green-blue spheres; wavy rooftop surface of ceramic blue-pink squares; rooftop border of vertebrae of aqua, blue, green and rose ceramic cylinders; the main spire, resembling a dollop of whipped cream topped with a flower cross; and four rows of funky rock and wrought iron balconies off multi-paned windows framed in a soft teal. It was very expensive to get in so we admired it from the bench directly in front of the house as well as across the street—I think, also designed by Gaudi because its seats were a series of involutions that resembled an intestinal tract—and imagined Gaudi sitting here as well pondering with great care where to place each piece of rock so that it reflected the light with the greatest intensity. He used this painstaking process in all of his projects, demonstrating the passion and attention to detail that he invested in his work. Gazing at this fairy-tale building, we recreated the back of St. George’s dragon on the roof, a meteor shower on the front face, the eyes of an all-knowing God in the stone balconies, and faith reigning supreme in nature, God’s creation, in the flower cross sentinel of the plump tower on the roof. We returned by night to see Casa Batllo by night, its fairytale façade enhanced by the lights illuminating the scales of the dragon, fairy dust of the façade and waves of tiles outlining the roof.

Further down the boulevard, we could see from a distance the fanciful chimney pots and towers on the rooftops of Casa Mila, or La Pedrera, another of Gaudi’s unique creations. The massive rocky formation that wraps around one corner of the large intersection of Passeig de Gracia and Provenca Street is known as La Pedrera, "The Stone Quarry," because it more resembles a national monument hewn of a limestone mountain than a house. Though a wash of grey, the building exudes Gaudi’s characteristic charm through its undulating façade, decorated with birds of colored rock sitting on window ledges or with wings spread, preparing to take flight; ornate wrought iron balconies depicting a tangle of vines; and a rooftop sculpture garden. From the street we could see the rooftop sculptures of a chimney of a helical design, resembling an actual spiral of smoke rising from the chimney; a bell-tower-like tower that sprouts an arch that frames the cathedral of La Sagrada Familia in the distance; a; and another rooftop tower covered in the glass of champagne bottles, the necks of intact bottles sticking out from the top of the structure! We were able to enter the house and visit an exhibition on the second floor. On our way up the spiral staircase of a helical design, we peered up the courtyard past more whimsical wrought iron balconies to the rooftop where a cluster of towers topped with carvings of giant faces of different expressions—awe, contentment, alacrity—greeted us to the house’s inner sanctum. These sculptures reminded me of the stone sculptures of the ancient Mayan and Khmer civilizations of the ruins of Tikal and Angkor Wat that we visited. The courtyard and staircase are supported by columns, resembling the stalks of mushrooms or wildflowers, blossoming in a meadow of wildflowers painted on the ceiling in a muted impressionistic style.

On the second floor was a free art exhibit of Malevich, a modern artist of Polish, Ukrainian and Russian origin from the early 1900s, who is most famous for reducing all his art to the basic denominators of the "Quadrangle," or black square, cross and circle. I must say that the impact of this "most absolute form of Abstraction" that "thrust modernity forward" was lost on us but we did appreciate his earlier creations and later derivations of these basic designs. One painting, called "Relaxing. Society in Top Hats," depicted a group of bourgeois in elegant attire of either black or white socializing in a manicured park. At the end of our audio interpretive guide, however, we were guided in very proper British English to a shocking discovery—at the outer perimeter of the scene is "a man in a top hat urinating!" It caught Peter, Paul and I completely off-guard and we burst into giggles. I think the museum guards were getting annoyed with us because we kept breaking the very quiet and proper decorum of the museum. Earlier, I had created a scene because I wasn’t aware that I was talking very loudly over the headsets of my audio guide, and said, "Hey guys, come see this painting!" Before I knew it, the guard and my whole family were accosting me to shush me! It was then I realized that everybody in the general vicinity was staring at me! It was rather embarrassing. We managed to refrain from loud outbursts through most of the rest of the exhibition and enjoyed Malevich’s unique portrayals of the peasants of Eastern Europe, working the land and in orthodox religious observation in his several paintings of the Mower, Reaper, Bathers, Praying Woman, Peasant Women in Church, and Burial. His very geometrical forms, based on naturally occurring shapes and patterns, conveyed a natural, earthy sense of ordinary life.

We found a little café across from La Sagrada Familia, Gaudi’s still unfinished masterpiece, to eat lunch and marvel at this magnificent cathedral. A devout Catholic and lover of nature, all of Gaudi’s work was deeply personal, an expression of his interior soul, but this cathedral represents the culmination of his genius. This was his last creation, working on the project for over 40 years, and he became so consumed by the project that, for the last 12 years of his life, he abandoned all other projects and actually lived on the premises. He was killed when, absorbed in thought, he was hit by a passing tram and was buried in the crypt where he spent the last years of his life. Though it is still under construction, with scaffolding and cranes throughout the site, Gaudi’s print is still quite palpable. It is covered in spires and towers of unique shapes and designs that seem to literally connect the earth with the heavens above. Gaudi designed the cathedral with three principal facades (depicting Jesus’ birth, passion and glory), each with four bell towers of 100-plus meters in height, one for each of the 12 apostles. The four bell towers of the façade of Glory, the 170-meter central dome, symbolizing Jesus Christ, and the five towers that will surround it, dedicated to the four evangelists and the Virgin Mary (125 meters in height), are yet to be built. Jesus’ death is portrayed in massive stone relief on one of the facades that Gaudi completed before he died. This façade is most representative of Gaudi, each sculpture is life-size and modeled after specific people or nature. Facial expressions and physique are easily discernible in these giant sculptures. Many scenes are accompanied by scriptural citations, further personalizing the renderings. At top center is Jesus on the cross, his mother, Mary Magdalene, and John standing vigil. Below this striking depiction is a collage of scenes. In the center is Veronica, unveiling the scarf that she used to wipe Jesus’ brow when he carried the cross through the streets of Jerusalem. There on the scarf is emblazoned the image of Jesus’ face, bearing the agonized expression of his passion. On either side of Veronica are Jesus carrying the cross and praying at the Garden of Gethsemane. Other intimate portrayals include the Last Supper, when Jesus, surrounded by the disciples at table, identifies Judas as his betrayer (John 13:27: "Satan entered Judas and Jesus said to him, ‘Do what you must do quickly.’"), Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, Judas’ betrayal of Jesus with a kiss (John 13Mark 14:45: "He went straightaway to him, and said ‘Master, master,’ and kissed him."), Roman soldiers arresting Jesus, Pontius Pilate, flanked by his wife, experiencing pangs of conscience during the interrogation of Jesus (Matthew 27:24: "When Pilate saw that he could not prevail with the crowds, he took water and washed his hands before the multitude saying, ‘I am innocent of the blood of this just person.’" and Matthew 27:19: "When he was setting a judgment, his wife sent him a message saying, ‘Have nothing to do with this just man, for I have suffered many things in a dream about him.’"), and Peter’s denial (Luke 22:60: "Peter said, ‘Man, I know not what you say’ and immediately as he spoke, the cock crowed."). Inside the cathedral it is evident that the cathedral is a work in progress; construction equipment and personnel in hard hats fill the giant caverns as work proceeds. We were able to enter a restricted area and sense its awesomeness. The interior is filled with columns, resembling a forest of giant palm trees, its palms delicately unfolding from the bases of the trunk at the ceiling. Under the cathedral is a museum of Gaudi’s life, a fascinating account of this enigmatic artist’s life. His drawings from nature from which he derived many of his characteristic architectural designs are on display, shapes as fundamental to life as the helix of DNA, as well as the plans and models for the cathedral. On the other side of the cathedral is the façade depicting Jesus’ birth, of a much more conventional style than the façade of the passion. From this side, we gained access to one of the towers and wound through the spiral staircase, crossed a bridge to another tower, climbing it, the tallest of those completed to date, 170 meters into the heavens! As we ascended the 340 steps, scaling what was still not the uppermost tier of this edifice, we passed spires covered with crosses of flower designs and multi-colored fruit of all seasons—plump grapes, melons, etc. of a colored glass mosaic—symbolizing the fruits of the Holy Spirit, and there on one olive tree tower, encountered a flock of doves with one love dove of the Holy Spirit hovering over a cross at the top of tree, which considering how high we were, constituted a veritable apparition in my book! At the top of the tallest spires were cross I was gripped with panic a couple of times but in the tight spirals of these staircases, meticulously recreated to simulate the interior of the heliodal spiral of a shell, there was no turning back and with the encouragement of my mother-in-law, I prevailed, looking out through the small windows of various geometric designs, out across the landscape of Barcelona. Mom C spotted Steve far below but after a quick glance down and the vertigo that followed, I took her word for it and left Steve to strain his gaze skyward and look for glimpses of me and the children meandering in and out of the rafters!

Eager to get to Barcelona and maintain our timetable to arrive in Portugal by next weekend, we decided to catch a night train directly to Barcelona from Nice. Unfortunately, we didn’t board the right compartment and no one checked our tickets, and, at some point in the middle of the night, the train split and our segment continued on to western France! When we didn’t arrive in Port Bou, on the Spanish side of the eastern French-Spanish border, at the designated hour the next morning, we began inquiring fellow passengers as to our whereabouts. Boy, were we surprised to discover we were on our way to Bordeaux, the famous wine growing region on the Atlantic coast of France, clear on the opposite side of France! A couple of young American travelers, Kaitlyn from Boston and Eric from Washington state, were in the same predicament and our motley crew, towing assorted backpacks and looking terribly bedraggled after a marginal sleep on the train, descended upon the information center at the train station to ask for help in unraveling our mistake. Once we were able to fumble through the complicated explanation since none of us spoke French and they spoke little English, all seven of us were rerouted back to Barcelona on the same ticket. It was funny when the French attendants finally figured out what had gone awry, "No, no, not Port Bou. This is Bordeaux!" Unfortunately, it would take us the entire day to get back on track! We made the best of this unexpected detour by finding ourselves a little café in Bordeaux, reviving ourselves with French pastries and coffee and, once all of us reconvened to catch another train back to the eastern gateway to Spain, getting to know our fellow travel companions. Kaitlyn just finished a semester studying abroad in Florence and is wrapping up her trip with an excursion through France, Spain and Greece, and Eric is traveling for a couple of months in Mediterranean Europe. We swapped stories about our travels, U.S. politics and the utility of social activism, living abroad, cats and other miscellaneous topics. Kaitlyn cracked us up with her entourage of luggage. In addition to a very large backpack, she was carting an array of other bags as well. We found out that she had brought an entire wardrobe of clothes when she came to Italy, as well as 20 pairs of shoes, and spent the better part of these past couple of weeks, as well as a small fortune, shipping excess boxes back home—and she was looking for the nearest postal depot to ship still more!!

We didn’t arrive in Barcelona until 9:30 p.m. at night, caught a taxi to the Barri Gotic district in the old part of the city and began searching for a place to stay. As Paul said, Barcelona is like New York City, the city that never sleeps. There are always people mulling about, walking the promenades, waiting to get into one of the many discothèques. As Steve, Paul and I walked the streets looking for hotels, we never felt uncomfortable, even as we watched a young man unabashedly relieve himself on the side of the street and then jump in to greet an English-speaking group of people before he had completely zippered up. Finally, at 12:30 p.m. at night, we settled on a basic hostal and collapsed, exhausted, into our beds!