February 5, 2017
We arrived at the hostel late on Friday night, the brightly lit but vacant streets of the sleeping city greeting the three of us –Ashton, Kody, and I–as we walked through the doors into a sleek and modern designed lobby. I hadn’t stayed in a proper hostel in quite some time. The last time was maybe 2012, when I visited Southern Germany with a school exchange program, and I hadn’t really traveled on my own quite yet. The most hilarious aspect of the entire trip was the prospect of a proper, hot shower, since our showers on base were spotty in terms of the plumbing–you either melted or froze, depending entirely on the morning you decided to risk your life in the stall.
I can’t even remember if any of us actually showered that night, considering how exhausted we were!
La Sagrada Família
The three of us decided to visit the Sagrada Família the next day, the huge cathedral Antoni Gaudí designed , which is still under construction to this day even a hundred years later. Interestingly enough, the Catalan architect was a major proponent of architectural modernism in the region, although during his time not many favored his work. Now, however, Gaudí’s work is celebrated and admired–and also remains a tourist highlight in the city, though his work is far from the only attractive thing about the city.
That morning, as three of us walked to the Sagrada Família under the sunny morning sky, blue and clear save for a few clouds hovering overhead, we giggled and chatted about the plane ride over from London. We were exhausted, but happy, and I remember spotting the spires of the cathedral over the trees in the park we passed through on the way.
“Wow,” I breathed out, trying to pick out the figures depicted on the stone face of the back entrance.
Ashton took the time to explain some of the history of the place, since she had experience in Art History through her degree program. Kody and I listened as we approached the building, waiting for entrance into the main part of the building.
I’m not particularly religious.
Most people who know me know this–I stopped attending church in high school. I felt disillusioned with the idea of a faith with which I couldn’t relate–I felt displaced and alone, despite the age-old adage that church is community. I never felt it, so I left. Don’t get me wrong–I have respect for those who find strength in that community and strong belief. The connection I thought I would make in my childhood never really tethered me to a belief system which I eventually found constricting. I still, however, have a desire to learn about the institution which shaped much of Europe’s early history, and the architecture and culture surrounding the buildings at the heart of these communities.
All sides of the cathedral Gaudí designed with certain and specific themes, elaborate stone sculptures hanging off of the walls above us as we waited for entry. I stared up at the detailed carving, trying to decipher some of the scenes from the (albeit) limited knowledge I remembered from those early days I spent in Sunday school learning about the stories of the Christian Bible. The entrance to the cathedral, in particular, was designed in such a way that the face of the building gives off the impression the stone is melting, slipping off of the infrastructure behind it. As the three of us passed the threshold into the main chamber of the building, however, I was dumbstruck.
None of us spoke for a long time.
The three of us wandered a little ways away from each other, staring up at the floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows and walking through the columns around some of the seating for traditional services.
The entire cathedral basked in a ethereal, watercolor glow, iridescent colors shimmering above and below us on the polished stone floor. The morning sun shone through the stained glass windows covering every opening to the outdoors, each grouped together by color fading into another–a rainbow kaleidoscope transferred onto the cream-colored stone interior. It was huge and magnificent.
Much of the architecture within the cathedral was built to mimic the seasons and showcase specific saints, but also gave the impression of a forest of stone, the smooth columns lifting into the air, bearing the weight of the intricately designed ceiling. We walked through the main spaces, and visited the artifacts still available to public view today, which is leftover from the original designs. In the tunnels underneath, a museum dedicated to Gaudí’s work showcased the process he used in the conception of the building itself. Now, 3D printers help draft the stone designed still under construction. The fact that this building still remains under construction–not remodeling–fascinates me. Even over the last century (and nearly half another), this building has weathered conflict and disarray.
I found that while I couldn’t connect to this place on a spiritual level–couldn’t connect religiously, at least–I could still appreciate and marvel at the complexity with which La Sagrada Família was built. It transcended its time, built as a modern marvel in its own right, and has withstood the test of time for over a century. The cathedral was only one of many I visited while I lived overseas in Europe, and wasn’t even the majority of what I saw in Barcelona for the short weekend the three of us were there.
It stands out to me even still, I think, because of the profound effect it had on me during my visit. I had–and still have–trouble making a home out of faith I cannot comprehend. I know the purpose of faith is to believe in something you cannot understand, or even fathom, but over the years and experience I’ve begun to latch onto the more tangible in order to understand my place amongst it all. Even though part of me longs to believe in something bigger than myself, outside of myself, I find most days that I find meaning and beauty in the small. The dew on the grass in the morning. The smell of freshly baked bread in the streets. The taste of Spanish hot chocolate. The sun filtering through the windows and lace curtains. The crisp bite of a apple out of a carafe of sangria.
I’m sure I’ll touch on the other things we did–our visit to the gothic quarter, walking underneath the columns of Parque Güell (also designed by Gaudí), attending a Flamenco show, eating tapas and drinking sangria in a courtyard nestled between the buildings of the city. I think of those memories with fondness and sometimes a tinge of longing, wondering when I’ll be back to bask in that Spanish sun.
Sam