Architect Rock Star for God: Antoni Gaudí

You may find it strange to hear that I have passionate feelings for a dead, Spanish Catholic, of whom I've never seen so much as a picture. Perhaps it will make you feel a bit better to know that my husband introduced me to the object of my affection. It was August of 1993, and my then-boyfriend Eddie took me for a visit to see his family in Mallorca, Spain. It was my first trip to Europe, and we spent a few days in London on the way there--stopping in at a number of British churches as well as the cathedral in Palma. The influences of art history classes and being raised Catholic taught me that churches are an important part of any European tour, so when Eddie said we should also visit the cathedral in Barcelona, I agreed--despite the fact that I was melting in the 39-degree-Celsius heat (102.2 for the Fahrenheit inclined, although it was probably best I didn't know that at the time). There are, of course, a lot of churches in Barcelona, so I had no way of knowing that we were were headed to THE church: Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família (Expiatory Temple of the Holy Family).

Designed by Antoni Gaudí, construction of the cathedral started in 1882 and continues today. The church is paid for by private donations, rather than by the Catholic church, which I'd imagine allowed Gaudí some leeway on design (His design is allegedly still being used by the builders and architects today.). I've never seen a church even remotely like it in my travels. It's amazingly beautiful, even in its unfinished state.

For instance, take a look at two of the three entrances to the church (the third remains unconstructed as of yet):

Pictured on the left is a small portion of the ornate Nativity entrance on the East side of the church; it was completed first, which is the reason for its darker color. This is a close up, as the pictures I took from far away can't come near to showing what it's like. I find the natural elements, such as the cave's overhang and the tree above the holy family, remarkable. My favorite is the Passion entrance (right) on the West of the church, however. The angular, stylized figures have a bleak look to them that seems appropriate to an event that is saddening to Christians--the death of Jesus on the cross.

Here's a close up, which provides a better depiction of what I mean:

It's not just the entrances of the church that are ornate, though. The outside of the cathedral has interesting detail everywhere you look:

The towers, above left and also pictured in the opening photo of this posting, each contain a circular staircase. Eventually there will be 18 towers, representing the 12 apostles, 4 Evangelists, the Virgin Mary, and Jesus himself (the highest, central tower, of course). When Eddie and I first visited 16 years ago, one tower was open to the public, and visitors could ascend and descend this tower by staircase. Ever up to the challenge, Eddie climbed to the top, and he has never let me forget that I opted out of the climb (Remember the temperatures I mentioned earlier?), so on this visit I resolved that I would climb the tower regardless of weather. I was surprised (and pretty relieved, quite frankly) to find that climbing up the tower is no longer an option; instead, the two towers now open to the public are accessed by elevator, with the option of taking the staircase on the way down. So, for those of you who have climbed the towers of Sagrada Família on foot, you've done something no longer possible, and it appears Eddie will have the final bragging rights on this count.

On my recent visit, I did opt to walk down the staircase, of course, and was amazed by the view. As I wound my way down, I was alternately treated to views of Barcelona and the rooftops/facade of Sagrada Família. It's where I took many of the detail pictures, including these two:



















Clearly, the exterior of Sagrada Família is worth taking in. In fact, many tourists satisfy themselves by taking pictures from the other side of the fence, rather than waiting in line (Go early in the day to avoid the worst of the wait!) and paying the entrance fee. That's a bad decision, though, as the church's interior--although less complete--is equally breathtaking. Here's one shot that attempts to capture the majesty of the space:

This picture also hints at one thing I most love about Sagrada Família--the feeling of the natural world that is invoked by its shapes and lines. This nod toward the organic is common in Gaudí's work, and it's evident everywhere in this church: the Nativity entrance, the piles of fruit marking the rooftop (oranges shown above right), and the sinuous lines of the choir boxes. The most amazing example, though is the ceiling and pillars, which look like exotic flowers from some angles and a network of nerve endings and synapses from others:



















The ceiling was actually the most exciting thing for me to see on this recent visit to Sagrada Família. I recall that in 1993 the majority of the space was open to the elements, and on this visit the entire ceiling was more-or-less enclosed. This, I believe, is what makes Sagrada Família the most visited structure in all of Barcelona: the opportunity for visitors to witness the creation of something entirely unique. For, if buildings have a "life" of their own, Gaudí's Sagrada Família continues to grow and mature with every visit.

It's inspirational.


For further inspiration, follow this link to the official Sagrada Família website. Better yet, plan a trip to Barcelona to see this and many other amazing (Gaudí and non-Gaudí) sights for yourself. But be forewarned: you may fall in love with a dead, Spanish, rock-star architect as well.

Taken From the Top: on Beautiful Views

In my last post, I included photos of just a few of the many stairs I climbed during my vacation to Europe in May/June 2009. There were a LOT more that aren't pictured, too. The thing about historical buildings and monuments is that the builders didn't include elevators when they built them many hundreds of years ago. This may seem obvious for simple technological reasons, but the reality of climbing a narrow, winding staircase, with another hundred tourists immediately behind you and no way to pass, is an entirely other adventure. Three hundred or so seems to be the magic number when it comes to steps in important landmarks: Tower of Pisa, Italy, 298; Arc de Triomphe, Paris, 284; Duomo tower, Florence, 463; St. Peter's Basilica Dome, Vatican City, 320...

It's not really the steps I want to talk about here, however, it's the reason we climb all those steps. As humans, we are somehow compelled to seek the VIEW. I'm sure there have been studies on this subject, likely revealing some connection to territory, defense, or the like, but all of that is generations behind us. It's unlikely that I am ever going to have the need to "hold the high ground" at any point in my life. And yet, like everyone else, and despite being physically unfit for the activity, I too must climb those stairs.

Interestingly enough, every place I stayed on my vacation was on the top floor of the building or hotel. Most of these, to accommodate lazy tourists like myself, are now equipped with elevators. I wish I had taken pictures of those elevators: upright coffins that fit (hah!) 2 people or one person and luggage. In Rome, Eddie and I stayed in the Felini B & B--a great place a short stroll from both the Trevi Fountain and Spanish Steps. It's hard choosing a hotel from afar, even with guides and reviews, but in this case we couldn't have done better. The "private terrace" in the ad ended up being the entire roof of the building! Opening the door from our room, we could enjoy our morning breakfast (brought to our room on a tray each morning as a part of the room rate!), afternoon wine, and end-of-the-day rest while watching the sights and sounds of Rome.

The thing about views is that they are wonderful to experience, but they are pretty darned hard to capture with the camera. I have dozens of shots taken from the tops of buildings and monuments, but they simply don't portray what it's like actually being there. Without the breeze, scents, and sounds of the heights, a picture can only hint at the experience.

These pictures of Eddie and I on the Tower of Pisa are nice, but it's hard to describe how it felt to stand on the top of a building that is 600+ years old--one which I had seen in pictures throughout my entire life. Europeans are surrounded by such history every day, but as an American tourist, I always feel a sense of awe when placing my feet where so many others have stood--or taking in the same view once taken in by the likes of Galileo.


















Later in the evening after our climb, when having dinner with Eddie's mom, Gioia, and some family friends, I got to hear stories about the Tower--adding a whole new dimension to the view. Family legend has it that Eddie's grandfather Sergio jumped off the lower balcony of the tower as a young boy, umbrella extended for flight. (Something certainly not possible today!) While he did become an Italian military pilot later in life, he was not supernaturally gifted with flight, and broke his ankle in the fall.

Just as stories related to places can add add more to our experience, climbing to the top can reveal things not otherwise evident from the ground. In Paris, for instance, I was surrounded by the beautiful architecture of the central city, where the majority of tourists spend their time. Getting above the street level, a whole new Paris emerges, as evident in these pictures taken from the Arc de Triomphe and Centre Pompidou:



















Unlike their bolder, big-city kin, picturesque towns don't make the transition to photographs as successfully. Deià, on the western Mallorca coast, is a favorite destination when we visit the family; the charming town wanders up the hillside, and the main road is lined with cafes, small shops, and artist galleries. And, even seeing the houses with tile roofs and green shutters--the standard on the island--makes me want to return to my mother-in-law's house in Alaró for another visit. In fact, I have dozens of shots, taken on various visits over the past 15 years, that are almost identical to this one. But how can I resist documenting this view once again?


From Mallorca, I almost always take a few days to revel in Barcelona. It's an amazing city--one I continue to call my favorite. I've been to Barcelona 4-5 times, but on this visit I went to Tibidabo, the highest peak in Barcelona, for the first time. To get there, my friend Andrea and I took the metro to the end of one line, hopped a 1901 trolley that clambered up a mansion- lined residential street, and then transferred to a funicular that swept us to the top of the mountain. This mountain-top destination has three attractions: an amusement park, a restaurant/bar, and a church. I actually took this photo from the balcony of the church--after climbing 50-60 steps--and was really looking forward to a cold beer after my descent. But first, of course, the view. To our misfortune, it was the one overcast day of our stay in Barcelona, so we couldn't see as far as advertised. Regardless, Andrea and I left feeling well-rewarded after having conquered the mountain.

There are other Barcelona views that I simply can't get enough of, and to which I return again and again. These pictures, taken from the rooftops of Casa Batlló and La Padrera, demonstrate the attraction:



















Of all the "view" pictures I took on this trip, though, the one below, taken from the tower of Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, is my favorite. I love Gaudí's cathedral-in-progress, and this photo includes elements of the cathedral's architecture, reveals the construction process, and includes a backdrop of Barcelona.


It's an appropriate picture to leave you with--and a teaser for my next post, on Gaudí's art and architecture. Stay tuned and keep your eye to the horizon!

Step by Step: On European Staircases

I've been putting off documenting the wonderful five weeks I spent in Europe this May and June, a bit overwhelmed by the 600+ digital pictures downloaded from camera to laptop upon my return. Such an extensive visual record is a significant shift for my husband Eddie and me, as we're infamous for failing to take pictures. In the days of print photography, we were film-phobic: after a 3-week trip to London and Spain, we finished our only roll of film (24 exposures) at home by photographing our dog; an 18-day driving trip through central Mexico to Guadalajara and then back up the Western coast netted us just four pictures. Today, with the sudden bounty of pictures brought about by the wonders of technology, where then to begin?

"One step at a time," I told myself in an early a.m. pep talk, determined to complete this post before calling it a night. While I was speaking figuratively--promising myself the freedom to comment on only a dozen or so pics, versus tackling the hundreds--I was suddenly struck by the literal value of my advice. I had, I discovered, photographed many staircases and stairwells during my travels. And, since most days included miles of exploration on foot, I had pretty strong feelings about the number of stairs encountered. Outdoor staircases, such as the Spanish Steps in Rome (above); outside the Duomo in Siena (below left); and at the entrance to Parc Güell in Barcelona (below right) usually had relatively few stairs, although the baking sun could make them seem more numerous. The great thing about these stairs is that they serve multiple functions, not only allowing access to higher ground, but also providing a space for people to gather and socialize. The people-watching opportunities of the Spanish Steps, for instance, are unparalleled: old ladies gossiping as the day began, business people lunching in the afternoon, and Italian and foreign teenagers drinking and flirting by night.













Outdoor stairs are the least spectacular type, generally speaking. It's the stairwells and flights of stairs inside European buildings that really attract me. Indeed, despite the relatively low buildings in Europe--6-8 stories seems to be the maximum in old structures--I'm always struck by the beauty of the stairs and banisters. Whether it's the simple staircase of our B & B in Rome (below 1), or the amazing work of Antoni Gaudí in Casa Batlló (below 2), there is a majesty to European staircases not often found in the US--and certainly not in Humboldt County, CA.

















And, there is certainly nowhere in the US that you can find anything like these stairs:


Look closely at the picture above and note that the center of each stair is worn down, creating a deep hollow in the marble. As I ascended the stairs I observed that the scooped-out section changed from left to center to right, and then back again--a result of the millions of visitors who have climbed these 296 steps for nearly 660 years, naturally gravitating (ahem!) to one side or the other as they circle the building. After all, this is the stairwell in La Torre di Pisa--known to most of us as the leaning Tower of Pisa.

As much as all these stairs thrilled me, though, it's the amazing spiral staircases that really make me catch my breath--and not just because I'm climbing up them. The grandeur and grace with which these stairs unfurl--like the inside of a shell--is stunning.

Arc de Triomphe, Paris, France:


Sagrada Familia, Barcelona, Spain:


Vatican Museum, Vatican City, Italy:


Maybe the thing that's so attractive about stairs--whether in Europe, at home, or in the Nancy Drew books I read as a young girl--is that they hold promise. There's always something waiting at the top of them: a mysterious attic, a special room, a spectacular view...

But I'll save that for my next entry.

Baseball Field Trip a Surprise Winner

On a typical day, you wouldn't catch me singing the praises of baseball. However, the usual rules don't apply on a sunny, 65-degree day in the Humboldt Crabs ballpark, home of Humboldt County's beloved baseball team--also America's oldest continuously operated (65 years) summer collegiate baseball program. On a day this beautiful, it's easy to lure me out of the house, even to attend a sport that usually bores me to tears. Excited by the weather, if not the game, this afternoon I put on my sandals, sunscreen, sun hat, capris, and sweatshirt and headed out the door--with the requisite bag containing a jacket, socks, and a scarf in recognition of our ever-changing area weather.

As far as trips go, the 8.5 miles from our side door to the Arcata baseball park isn't a long one. However, sitting in the bleachers this afternoon with friends Diqui, Peter, Brennan, George, Teri, and some of their out of town relatives (Teri and George's nephew Sam is pictured at left.) and surrounded by an announced 711 fans, I found myself immersed in a bit of Americana I don't often encounter on a daily basis: baseball caps, hot dogs, Cracker Jacks, beer, and plenty of red, white, and blue (the Crabs uniform colors) added authenticity to what is considered by some to be the great American sport. Closer inspection revealed Humboldt-County twists: the caps covered dreadlocks; the hot dogs were Humboldt grass-fed beef or tofu pups; and the beer in my hand was Mad River Brewing Company's Steelhead extra pale ale. However, surrounded by an eclectic crowd of families celebrating Fathers Day, hippies celebrating Summer Solstice, and the usual assorted lunatics simply celebrating, I found that the "Star Spangled Banner" actually seemed an authentic and appropriate number this afternoon. The weather seemed designed specifically to encourage the free and brave.

While sun and friends were attractions, it's the "World Famous" Crab Grass Band that really made the trip to the ball park worth my while. One look at the band's play list will tell you why. Whether it's celebrating More Cowbell Night by ringing our bells in time to the band's rendition of Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper," flapping our arms to the "Chicken Dance," or moving to the White Stripes' "Seven Nation Army," Ozzy Osborne's "Crazy Train," or Billy Idol's "White Wedding," my friends and I simply can't enjoy ourselves and the Crab Grass Band enough. As always, today we sat just to the left of the band on the bleachers and dedicated ourselves to looking uncool, wondering how anyone could choose to sit on the side of the park opposite the band. After all, rather than following the team's schedule, we check the band schedule before planning which games we will attend.

Not that the Crabs aren't worth watching--especially if you're one of those people out there that likes baseball. The team is pretty darn good when you come down to it, and I haven't been to a losing game yet; even for those of us not really into sports, winning is always a lot of fun. Today's win was made all the more exciting because it was close. After being ahead for most of the game, after the top of the ninth the Crabs were suddenly behind 3-2. With one out already recorded, my friends and I were hoping we'd at least make it to an extra inning (although also lamenting the fact that the beer stand closes at the end of the 7th inning regardless of the game's length). Amazingly, with two men on base, one of the Crabs' players (the sport-types amongst you can look up the stats, I'm sure) belted a drive right through the infield, bringing in two runs and winning the game.

As the smiling, sun-kissed crowd trickled out of the stands, the band played a few more tunes, and children were invited to run the bases while Crabs players lined the baseline between third and home to high five them on their way in. Should we want more Crabs contact? We were invited to join the team and band at Big Pete's Pizza after the game. As tempting as that may sound, I headed back to the car and made my way home, looking forward to the next sunny summer day and (dare I say it?) baseball field trip.

Humboldt Home Base

For the past 11 years, my husband Eddie and I have lived in Humboldt County, and we love it. We're pretty confident that we'll be calling this our home from here on out. If you haven't visited our little corner of Northern California, you certainly should: the ocean, redwoods, rivers, and mountains serve as a beautiful setting for small towns rich in art, music, recreation, and wonderful people.

Recently, however, I've realized just how much time I spend on the road or in the air. Spring semester included four work-related and three personal trips--anywhere from two days to one week in length--and I just returned Monday from a 5-week European vacation. Looking ahead, I note that I'll be traveling for 2-3 days at the beginning of July (Ukiah for Redwood Writing Project business) and another week at the end of July (San Diego ComiCon with my sister Sarah). Who knows what August will hold, let alone Fall semester and the winter break?

I'm not complaining; I love the opportunities I have to travel to new places, meet new people, see new sites, and try new things. And, while some may see my love of Humboldt County and my love of travel as contradictory, I'm beginning to see that the two are closely connected. Indeed, there's real comfort in knowing that at the end of every trip I take, I get to return to a place I love.

In celebration of my travels both near and far, I'm beginning this blog to share the places I go and things I see. I look forward to hearing your stories about your explorations as well!