lotsa fun, eh?: DAY FOUR

Sunshine; I take the metro to a big square, eat, and walk, then get a local bus to get to the famous Gaudi church Sagrada Familia. I applaud myself for getting directions from the lady sitting next to me who speaks rapid-fire Spanish. When I alight, I think 'What the wha?', when I see the scaffolding at the top of the church spires. I learn later that construction is an on-going process – this amazing work begun in the early 1900's. I wait in line 40 minutes, not bad considering the dire predictions, and it's sunny; I have time to study the map and plot my next site. When I get inside, I am speechless; it is astoundingly beautiful and transports me. I can't believe that anyone can even conceive this architecture, let alone build it. The sun comes through the stained glass, a gift of timing, and it alters my brain – this also part of Gaudi's vision. Beauty, serenity, and most of all, intelligence. I want to live there. Life everywhere else only makes me sad. My camera battery ran out just before I entered (continuing my tradition of 'whoops, missed that'), so it's all in my personal memory banks, but I've copied some shots from the brochures...

I leave, and cross the park to the Irish Bar that I saw on the map while in line. I'm in Barcelona, but I walk in and say 'Dia dhuit' to the bartender (Gaelic). He looks at me blankly because he's from Belfast where they don't learn their own language – English rule and all. The menu in the Michael Collins pub doesn't appeal too much except for the “hot large baked potato”. I order it and eat the largest potato I have ever seen,- took up the whole plate,- and topped with cheese, and corn, -side salad too - was quite delicious. I ate while listening to Viva Las Vegas by Elvis simultaneously with the Liverpool/Everton soccer game televised in the backroom, cheers punctuating every few minutes. “lotsa fun, eh?” Back on earth for sure.

I go on to the second Gaudi building, 'La Pedrera', an apartment building of joyous, crazy proportions. Lots of photo ops; no camera, and without that aid, better focus. That's my story.

It's dark, all lit up, and crowded with people when I exit, so I wander a bit before going back to the hostel, after which I try to locate a jazz jam advertised in the London Bar the night before. Nobody knows the street, not even when I travel to the area, but finally one person suggests a route. I find the club and enter in time for the last tune of the night. Oh dear, too late again. Missed my chance to sing. But there's a blues jam the next night...