Goodbye Gaudi. Hello Heartland.

Barcelona has been a blur. We've spent 5 days walking, visiting museums (Picasso & Miro), eating and drinking late (10:30 tapes and Tempranillo), enjoying the medieval warren of Barri Gotic. Even with Google Maps we could count on getting lost at least once a day.

I was here in 1965: 18 years old, seeing Europe for the first time. I remember little about the city, except the streets were narrow and dark (still true). La Sagrada Familia consisted only of towers. I remember climbing up and looking down at an unvaulted cathedral, begun more than 80 years ago, wondering whether it would be completed. It looked like an overgrown WattsTowers.

Now it’s not done, but my God, what realization of an off-kilter dream. At 18, I didn’t get Gaudi. Now, I’m entranced. I’ve never seen such bending forms, both audacious and subtle.

His domestic architecture is also head turning. We were walking back to our hotel one night, and stumbled on to one of his apartment buildings.

Now we’re on the train to Ponferrada. Tomorrow we begin our walk. It’s getting colder as we ride west. We see some snow on the mountains. The Spanish countryside is varied and lovely, and the area near Pamplona is especially compelling.  The first part of the Camino descends from the Pyrenees through the same craggy hills, and beckons.

It wasn’t hard to leave Barcelona, but it did make us want to come back. How can you ignore a city with bus stops, ham shops, and markets like these?