November 26, 2013. Barcelona, here I come!  Celia arrived early to accompany me to the train station for the bullet train to Barcelona.  While waiting at the station, we spied a little pond with turtles.  How quaint, I thought!  Is this a reminder to take things slow, just before taking the high speed train to Barcelona?

After bidding Celia goodbye, I lugged my two suitcases onto the train, and settled in.  The ride was smooth and the passing landscape interesting, but I spent the time writing.

In Barcelona, I took the taxi to Hotel Melia Sky and met up with Jeannie Javelosa, another speaker from the Philippines attending Casa Asia’s Conference.  As we were the only two Filipinas, we agreed to explore Barcelona together.  After a quick lunch at Tapas Bar 24, we walked along Via Gracia until we reached Casa Battlo.

Casa Battlo is an amazing structure, something like Disneyland meets the Brothers Grimm and Roman mythology. I could imagine Hansel and Gretel being mesmerized by the house and entering it to see what marvels lie inside.  There was an event that night so we could not get in, but we enjoyed the magnificent view from outside.

Candy Ortol, Celia’s friend, picked us up and drove us around to see Barcelona’s streets light up. Candy is such an interesting person, an outspoken Filipina who married a Spaniard and settled in Barcelona, raised three children and set up and grew a thriving real estate business.  A widow herself, Candy shared her story with us.  We had much to talk about.  Candy showed us her impressive Christmas decor with a Filipiniana theme, which she had worked on for many months, and talked about the Assumption Christmas reunion that she would be hosting soon.  She then brought us to the train station to buy tickets for some tours, after which she drove us around the commercial center of Barcelona to view the festive Christmas lights.  Each street had its own design, and it was captivating to watch.  We all laughed when someone observed that Torre Agbar, which housed Barcelona’s water authority, appeared like a gigantic blinking suppository.

 

November 27, 2013. Early in the morning, Jeannie and I took the tour to Montserrat.  This was one of the reasons I had readily accepted the invitation to participate in Casa Asia’s conference in Barcelona.  I have long wanted to see the Shrine of Our Lady of Montserrat, after which I was named by my parents.  More importantly, I wanted to pray to Our Lady of Montserrat, or the Black Madonna, as she is fondly called.  The image of the Black Madonna sits on a chair, with the Child Jesus perched on her lap holding the globe in his hand.  I learned that she was not always black, but that the smoke from candles through the centuries have blackened the image.

As the bus drove up higher and higher up the mountain, it got colder and colder.  The greenery around us gave way to craggy stone, revealing the serrated profile of the mountain peak, like a deadly hunting knife with its sharp edges pointing to the sky.  It seemed that we could almost touch the heavens.  The ancient monastery appeared to be almost carved from the mountain.  The view was spectacular.

At the train station near the top, we let off passengers who had paid to take the funicular up to Montserrat.  We stayed on the bus until it reached the monastery. Upon alighting and meeting up with those who took the funicular in front of the coffee/memento shop, our guide handed us our own maps and tickets, recommending that we visit the sanctuary, check out the museum and the audio visual room, sample the wine at the gift shop, and listen to the boys’ choir perform two songs. Our guide told us that he would meet us at 1pm, in a little less than two hours, and that if we were late, we would be left behind and we could stay at the hotel on the mountain overnight. He warned us that all the shops closed by 5pm, and that it would be a good experience to live the monasterial life.  I would have opted for that if we didn’t have the conference coming up, and a Sagrada Familia tour scheduled at 4pm.

At the big open courtyard in front of the monastery, our guide pointed out four trees that had been planted: palm for suffering, cypress for eternity, olive tree for peace, and laurel for glory.   Upon entering the monastery, we were ushered into a courtyard in front of the basilica. Here, our guide said he would leave us. On the right side of the courtyard, I saw a very long line of people waiting in front of a closed door. More and more people joined the line.  I asked him what that line was for, and he said those were the pilgrims who wanted to see the Black Madonna.  He cautioned that it would probably take about 45 minutes before we could reach the Madonna, and the door wasn’t even due to open for another 10 to 15 minutest!  I was crestfallen!  The whole reason I came was to see the Black Madonna up close, and now it seemed impossible.  Seeing that I was about to cry, he quickly said we could still enter the church and see the Madonna from afar, and that I could light a candle in the room to the left of the church.

Resigned, Jeannie and I entered the church. I knelt down on the front pew and prayed, asking God for guidance and protection, and laying my troubles at His feet. I asked Him to lead me on the right path that I may accomplish what I was sent here to do, and to please heal the pain of losing Mike.  I thanked Him for the many blessings He has given me, the people He had sent my way: my mom and dad, my children, my grandparents and aunts, my siblings, my teachers, my friends, my family in TeamAsia, our clients and partners. And most of all, I thanked Him for the wonderful life and love that Mike and I had shared, and ended with the prayer that our children have a long,  happy, healthy, prosperous, and meaningful life, and that they find partners who will love and take care of them.

After praying, I tried taking photos of the Black Madonna who was way up in the main altar. She was so far away that I could not snap a clear picture of her. Behind the grills to the right of the main altar, I saw the line of pilgrims waiting to go up behind the altarpiece to see the Black Madonna.  If only I had lined up earlier, I thought. 

I walked around and noticed that a mass was ongoing in one of the side chapels. The chapel was small and simple, stark and barren almost, stripped of the resplendent gold of the basilica. Behind the altar was a large piece of wood, carved with a face and two pierced hands, symbolic of the crucified Christ. There were about ten of us attending mass, and it was solemn and beautiful. I felt so blessed and at peace. After mass, I tried taking photos of the wooden Christ, but no matter what I did, the face would not come out, just a blazing light where the face of Christ was.

I exited the basilica to light a candle and pray before the image of the Brown Madonna painted on the wall.   Jeannie was there and she reminded me to enter the church as the choir would soon sing. As there was still some time, I explored the church some more and noticed a confessional box to the side of the basilica.  A light was on, indicating that a priest was waiting inside.  I entered, and asked the elderly priest if he spoke English. He shook his head. I told him my Spanish was not very fluent, and that I could say the prayers in English.  The kindly priest nodded and invited me to start. When I did, the words in Spanish flowed smoothly without any hesitation.  I unburdened myself, throwing away the yoke of guilt feelings and worries. When I had finished, the kindly priest blessed me. I know not where those words came from. It was as if a fountain had been opened, and everything washed clean.  I was at peace.

Coming out of the confessional box, I noticed that the once empty basilica was now full of people, waiting for the choir to begin. Going to the rear of the church for a quick getaway, I saw Jeannie once more. While videotaping the first song, I looked to the right and noticed that the snake of people lining up to see the Brown Madonna was gone. They must have closed the doors again because of the choir, I surmised. Jeannie nudged me and said she was going ahead. I followed her to the courtyard.

When I looked to where the pilgrims had lined up earlier, I noticed that the door was still open. I approached it and saw that there was no one lined up. I took a chance and entered, walking straight up the length of the basilica to the steps leading to the Black Madonna.  I climbed the steep stairs where a few pilgrim stragglers were still praying. I could not believe my luck! Here I was, in front of the Black Madonna, with the choir singing in such beautiful voices! I stood in front of her, praying, crying, and kissed her hand. A pilgrim was behind me and I asked if she could take my picture which she kindly did.  Oh, what a glorious feeling it was!

I realized that the second song had ended, and so I quickly ran down the stairs, through the courtyard and open patio, and to the place where the guide had told us we would meet. There was no on one from my group yet, so I thought they may still be walking slowly from the church. I entered the memento shop and bought a small image of the Black Madonna.  Walking out of the shop, I still did not spy any of my group.  Looking at my watch, it was already time!  I tried calling Jeannie and when there was no answer, I decided to run for the parking area where the bus was.  Half way there, my phone rang. It was Jeannie asking me where I was. I could hear the guide asking where the other Filipina was.  Good thing the bus waited for me, and I entered huffing and puffing!

Later that afternoon, Jeannie and I went for our Sagrada Familia tour.  It is unbelievably beautiful, and to think that it is still unfinished after a hundred and forty years.  The guide told us that the work is continued by private citizens.  In fact, many renowned engineers, architects, artisans, sculptors, and artists have offered their services for free to continue to work began by Gaudi and to be part of this massive project.

Gaudi must have descended from the gods to have come up with such a brilliant structure that is not just a strikingly beautiful work of art dedicated to glorify our Almighty Creator, but a marvel of mathematical engineering.  Seeing the play of lights cast on the church’s walls and floor by the dying sun’s rays through the stained glass, I caught my breath with wonder at the genius of this man.  And yet, nothing man has created can match the beauty of God’s handiwork. What a humbling thought!

Hungry we were after the two tours, and so we went in search of a restaurant that was frequented by locals, rather than tourists. A nice sales lady advised us where to go, and so we took a cab to the street she mentioned.  There we walked and asked the proprietor of a bookstore which restaurant he recommended.  We found it, only to learn from the Filipino waiter inside that they would not open until 9:30pm. It was only 7:30pm and we were ravenous! He suggested another place nearby that was open early, and so we went.  Good decision!

We had a plate of escargots baked in a tin, a plate of pimientos padron, and paella marinera with vino tinto.  Jeannie was little hesitant to eat the pimientos padron because I had warned her that some of them may be spicy, so I was relegated to taste a bit of each to ensure that they were safe.  After she had tasted some, Jeannie was hooked and went for it!  Oh la la!

 

 

November 28, 2013.  We had signed up for a walking tour of the Gothic district.  We were up early, ready for the cold. It was interesting walking through the little cobbled streets lined with interesting shops, and learning about the life of the Jews during the medieval times.  Gargoyles looked down on us from the ramparts of the buildings, some menacing, others outright funny.   One gargoyle was supposed to represent an elephant but since the artist had never seen one and only heard about it from someone else, it turned out to be vastly different from the usual.  More like a boar with tusks and a very long nose.

We saw what remained of the Roman walls in certain places, though most of the remaining Roman walls had been swallowed up by the buildings that were constructed in later years.  Our guide took us to a little patio which had three Roman columns surrounded by modern day apartments. He kept saying that there were only four remaining Roman columns in the entire city, but no matter how many times we counted, there were only three.  And we still hadn’t taken any sip of wine that day. Hah!

St. George was a recurring figure wherever we went. He was in paintings, frescoes, sculptures, churches, and castles. Another saint was Catalina who apparently was a young virgin saint.  Along one street, we stopped at what had once been the headquarters of the Inquisition. Jeannie told me later that shivers had run up and down her spine.

Lunch was at a little nook of a restaurant in the gothic district, recommended by the sales lady at the pharmacy where Jeannie bought some lotion. Jeannie wanted to have some more paella, and the proprietor of the restaurant told us to return in an hour. To kill time, we walked to the seafarers’ church, Our Lady of the Seas, and saw many more interesting shops on the way.

After lunch, we headed for Picasso’s Museum. Jeannie had taught art and so was quite familiar with Picasso’s many paintings. I especially liked his blue period.  It was interesting listening to Jeannie explain the progression of Picasso’s genius. Jeannie was intent on observing how museums and their gift shops were set up as she was planning on setting up the museum for her partner, Ed Castrillo’s life work. I am so looking forward to that.

The next day was our conference, and so we decided to retire early, but not before we went to the hotel’s club lounge to connect to the Internet and have a glass of wine.