And More Pictures

Beautiful Barcelona… 

A Hymn for Peace

Some pilgrims get tired, some get sick, some are simply lazy, but others… well, others stay out until depraved hours, gorging on gelato unable to contemplate waking in time to tour Gaudi's garden, Park Güell. Those same people also refuse to admit if they may have had gelato more than twice in one day..

On our first morning waking in the lively city of Barcelona, a few of us had chosen to stay behind in our plush beds while other ambitious choir members headed off for a memorable walk uphill to the fairytale-like gardens designed by Antoni Gaudí. Keri, the boys and I stayed behind with Carlos and his lovely parents to enjoy a slow cafe and walk through the gothic district before meeting up for our day's lunchtime performance at the 14th century Santa Maria del Mar. 

One of the most complete surviving examples of Catalan Gothic style, Santa Maria del Mar was built in a mere 50 odd years, which is nearly the speed of light for the 1300s. The pace of construction is attributed to the help of the “bastaixos” or porters from the fishing boats who gave their time and backs to carry stones from Monjuic to the building site. With her regal dimensions, austere decorations and barren echoey walls, Santa Maria del Mar allowed our voices to stretch and flow to the  farthest reaches. A quiet tone carried, while a raised voice seemed to occupy the space of every molecule inside the walls of this massive basilica. And so, we sang through our recital of music with joy and wonder at the fullness of our tone.

We had shamelessly brought our horrid Chicago weather with us to Spain. The week before we had left our city of ice, Barcelona had been in the blissful 70s. However, upon our arrival, temps plummeted. After our recital, we were to head off to a mini boat cruise on the sapphire Mediterranean, but instead, due to bad weather and large grey waves, our boat cruise was cancelled and we were set loose for a free day of eating and shopping… and oh yes, we were successful on all fronts. 

The morning of our final full day in Spain began with a tour of the imaginative and magical Sagrada Familia, or Sacred Family, dreamed of and designed by Antoni Gaudí. However, Gaudí would never have claimed the credit. He said, "I am not a creator, I merely copy," in regard to drawing all of his inspiration from nature. Born in 1852, Gaudí devoted his entire life to his work and his catholicism, Sagrada Familia being his crowning devotion to God. Construction had begun in 1882 and in his last years, Gaudí even lived in the workshop, letting go of concern for personal appearance and well being. In 1926 while walking to the Sant Felip Neri Church for confession, Gaudí was struck by a tram and was mistaken for a beggar due to his shabby clothes. As a result, care was too slow to come. At the time of Gaudí's death, Sagrada Familia was merely a quarter finished. 

Work had been slow and interrupted by the civil war in which the crypt, attached school and workshop were burned, thus destroying a vast majority of Gaudí's plans, designs and models. However, new generations have taken up his cause and Sagrada Familia is said to be completed by 2026, the one hundred year anniversary of Gaudí's death. But just to make things interesting, it was decided that a high speed train tunnel connecting Barcelona to France, absolutely HAD to be built directly under the sandy delicate foundations of the stunning #1 tourist attraction that Spain has in its arsenal. Despite the controversy and massive public outcry, the tunnel was built and put into service in 2013. Luckily, in the two years since, no cracks or damage have resulted from the thousand trains passing below.  Gaudí's unfinished genius still stands.

Etsuro Sotoo, a Japanese sculptor, has taken on not just Gaudí's work, but also his love of God. When talking of his conversion to Catholicism, Sotoo says, "I can't come close to Gaudí. I decided not to look to him. So then where do I look? I tried to look in the way that Gaudí did."  

We walked into the towering Sagrada Familia, our hands caressing walls as we walked with our eyes aimed high at the heaven reaching, crooked leaning, tree trunk pillars and brilliant colored stained glass windows. As the weak rainy sun shifted, the colors from the windows changed and reflected, casting the church in an unearthly glow. The early morning painted in calm dawn colors while the afternoon sun painted white walls through crimson windows, changing the tone to that of the crucifixion. Gaudí thought of everything… well, almost..

We lined up as a crowd formed around us. Patrick raised his hands, we raised our folders, opened our mouths and… nothing… Our voices dissipated two inches from our mouths. Despite using better support, despite resorting to over singing, the space greedily ate our tone, allowing nothing to carry. It was as though we were facing a brick wall or singing in a shopping mall. Our dear Gaudí forgot about acoustics. 

That evening, we stood in our concert best on the front altar stairs of the beautiful Catedral de la Santa Creu i Santa Eulàlia, we opened our mouths and we gratefully indulged as our voices carried easily, reaching to touch every forgiving inch of the immense cathedral. We blissfully worked through our now very familiar rep and we smiled widely, savoring each moment of our final performance of the tour.  Later that night, we celebrated. And if in the quiet lonely hours just before dawn, some of us felt the pain of leaving, well.. that is to be expected. 

Our Choir trip to Spain came with constant reminders of our own mortality; from our unexpected loss of Mary Ann, to the tragic downing of the Germanwings plane which left from Barcelona just a day after we did. Our aching knees and overtaxed hearts recognized their limits against a Spanish backdrop steeped in a long and tumultuous history. 

As Gaudi said in reference to his beautiful Sagrada Familia, “There is no reason to regret that I will not finish what I have started. I will grow old, but others will come after me.”  

So, we do all we can, knowing that our time is not to be counted, understanding that when we are to move on, others will rise in our place, creating a lineage of history, love, art, strength, hope, and humanity. 

At an unholy hour before the sun had even shown his face, we boarded a plane, said goodbye to a lovely España and headed home.. 
Always Pilgrims.