Barcelona - un gusto de Gaudi, un sabor de Miro...

"This tree next to my workshop, this is my master." So said master architect and artist Antoni Gaudi, whose Sagrada Familia has a cathedral interior based on the vaulted canopies of the forest.

Here in Barcelona, I am living only two blocks from La Sagrada Familia, that beautiful monstrosity, the most audicious and outrageous work of public art and expression of religious faith that I have ever seen...

Gaudi just makes me laugh out loud with joy and wonder at his sense of humor, deep faith, homage to nature, his sheer bravado. The top of the cathedral features stalks of corn and grapes and peaches and the word, repeated over and over, "Sanctus."

He drew inspiration from trees, leaves, honeycombs, birds, flowers, fruits, vegetables. And from light - I am amazed at the way his buildings are illuminated, the grace with which he harnesses the natural light.

He said about La Sagrada Familia, an ongoing masterwork of art and architecture started over 100 years ago and scheduled for completion in another 20 years or so, "Look at the top! Doesn't it just look as though the earth joins with the heavens? This burst of mosaics is the first thing sailors arriving in Barcelona will see. It will be a sparkling welcome!"

There is not a single straight line in La Pedrera, one of Gaudi's other masterpieces on Passeig de Gracia, which I also tour. The roof is simply splendid, mushrooming with towers and faces and spires and spirals, and who ever thought of making a roofline wavy anyway? Who ever thought to make a roof ornamental, indeed, vs. just somewhere that pigeons land or somewhere to hang the laundry?

Gaudi, that's who, his roof is necessary, not pedestrian as roofs usually are, just a building top, but instead pure art and lush design, and where else could you so admire the Barcelona skyline but from between his undulating rooflines... I'm in love with this roof... And we have not even talked about his Casa Battlo, Dio mio...

Here in Barcelona, these Catalan streets are still haunted by the spirits of Gaudi, Miro, Picasso...In a few short days, colorful, off-beat Barcelona has turned me upside down and inside out and made me laugh out loud and stand stock still in awe....

Pablo Picasso, what can I say? Who could be more playful and prolific? As his museum would testify... You can see here in this 15th century castle comme museo the evolution of the man who would later create Guernica - You can see it in his black and white study of "Las Meninas," one of 58 exhaustive studies of "La Familia de Felipe IV" executed by Picasso from December to August 1957.

You can see it in "La Joie de Vivre" also known as "La Alegria de Vivir," although the subject matter is different, the happy little goats, the pan flute, the voluptuous nymph. You can see how alive he is through his art and how the world lives here through his canvases - You can see what is to come...

I walk out of the Picasso Museum and the whole world is brighter and I see it in new frames, with new eyes - I take pictures at odd angles just for fun and am captivated by small details, a plastic flower on a balcony, trays of chocolates garnished with candied fruit in a shop window, laundry hanging on a pink pastel wall.

I feel a little crazier here, more inclined to take risks, knowing these artists did this and see what happened to the world?

I even dress myself like a work of art in Barcelona. This morning, I put on a simple black outfit with a low-cut black top, down to there, because these are the ultimate melons in nature anyway, this part of the woman - beautiful, no? Why not let the world admire sometimes... I wrap my hair in a bright red scarf and put on red lipstick and black eyeliner.

I am in the city of Miro. I am in the city of Picasso. How could I not treat my body as a work of art too, here where the figure of the woman was also admired and loved in art... I think of the joyous high round breasts of the nymph in Picasso's La Alegria de Vivir and figure I am dancing the streets in this spirit...

It's fun to do this and fun to walk around as if I am a roving piece of art. Everyone on the Ramblas does and is this anyhow... And it's comforting to be comfortable enough in my own skin now that I understand that some will love my display and exclaim, "Mama mia!" as some men do along the way, and some will ignore me because perhaps they prefer Cezanne to Miro, brunettes to strawberry blondes, whatever. I don't take it personally.

Some people love plums and some bananas and I am a pomegranate (bright and colorful, full of surprises, planting seeds of joy, better once you unwrap me!). Anyway, I revel in the beauty that God gave me as just, well, ME, pure Lisa, and have fun showcasing that here in this colorful city...

Here in Barcelona, I practice my Spanish but also check out the menus in Catalan. This is a place where your "X" Scrabble tile could actually win you big points, as this seems to be the middle letter of every word in Catalan. I don't pretend to have a handle on this language yet at all but it is seemingly a mix of Spanish and French and something more medeival.

For lunch I try "txapela" and "bikini txapela" at a Catalan tapas place; yesterday had "El Menu del Dia" at La Llesca, a mom-and-pop operation run by a family in Paseo Gaudi, which featured two plates - tostaditos con chorizo y tomate and albondigas con salsa, champinones y patatas, along with vino tinto, pan and flan - one of my alltime favorite desserts! - all for 10 Euros. Wow...
I am haunted by the city and still have not even lived it yet, i.e. haven't yet experienced "Barcelona by night" - although tonight I will treat myself to un paseo along Las Ramblas, and tomorrow to the Boqueria market I go! I will also visit Gaudi's house in Parque Guell tomorrow - have already been to several of his other houses and of course his masterpiece, La Sagrada Familia.

I can't seem to get enough of Gaudi... I just want to be consumed by his eclectic humorous sacred gorgeousness, to live in the organic-ness of his art....

Here the city really is a work of art, Modernisme, Catalan style art nouveau, and I am so grateful for it... I am reminded again how much the city is a passion of mine, the city as organism and eco-system, and I wonder as I walk how the city has evolved and is evolving now, what is its soul and nature? who are the spirits living and dead who roam the streets now? how do the people live and worship, what are the colors of the city by day and night, how does the afternoon light fall by the sea... Another city to fall in love with...

So you see, I am fickle, so quickly enamored of a city in Spain. However. You must understand though that my love for Italy is boundless and inexplicable, and I barely even saw the country - yet I felt it and tasted it and drank it in in a way that changed me in a few short weeks. What country could possibly be more sexy than Italy?

I don't think there is another place on earth sexier than this - the country is shaped like a woman's high-heeled, thigh-high boot for God's sake, kicking the island of Sicilia as if she has nothing better to do. I want to just kick some islands in my thigh-highed, high-heeled boots too when I am in Italy...

The day I leave Firenze, I am so sad to go. But all of my last moments there feel perfect, as they should be - I admire the graffiti of Jesu, spray painted in gold with "L'Uomo" on a stucco wall. I have a foccaccia dell'ouvo and a tortina della nonna, my last sweet in Italy for now.

It is the perfect sweet to end my two weeks there, symbolic for me somehow since I hope to be a nonna (Grandma!) someday and because it has a creamy sweet ricotta filling - My weakness here is for the milky, creamy sweets. The country of gelato. Heavenly. Also, in the U.S. we would not call this "the little cake of the Grandmother" - even the name of the dessert is sweet for Chrissakes!

Oh! And bow-tie pasta - here it is called farfallino which means "little butterfly." Little butterfly! Poetry in my mouth! My favorite gelato flavor is of course Bacio, which means kiss, and which is creamy chocolate with hazelnut. (Now, if you want to win my heart, sweet slow romance, perhaps a nice red wine, and anything with chocolate and hazelnut will do it....)

Italy is pure romance, where they name my favorite gelato flavor after a kiss - And with apologies to Spanish where we say "todo bien" nothing makes me happier than to hear the voices singing, "Tutto bene! Tutto bene!"

All is well - Of course it is - How could I possibly ever leave this country...

Vedi Napoli e Poi Muori - "Visit Napoli and you can die," so goes the Italian expression. I heard this from multiple Italian friends and it seems that I can't miss this place on this trip. So. I go. I see. I sigh... I meet Mario.

I don't really know what to say about Napoli, except, GO, and what to say about Mario except that I am happy to know he is alive. It was one of those days and one of those times when you just feel so grateful to be here, now, in the perfect moment.

Mario and I rode his Harley Davidson all over Napoli and watched the sunset from Parco Virgiliano and then checked out other stunning vistas of this historic and beautiful city on the sea. Napoli is perhaps better known to American tourists for its long history of organized crime or for not being the safest tourist destination in Italy today.

I can't speak for others but for me it was a friendly and beautiful place. I got to experience it through the eyes of someone who loves the city, which was such a blessing, and I understood why the Italians love this city so much.

We met at Castel Dell'Uovo as a simple stroke of fate; I had headed to a restaurant to grab some pizza and they were closing. Mario was leaving with members of his brother's wedding party (his brother was married the night before - Mario had been up all night and then spent the next day showing his brothers' friends from Milan the city - and then showed Napoli to me!).

We met, and he offered help me find another place to try Neopolitan pizza, and to show me his city. Mario's pride in his home and birthplace was obvious; he told me this was the best city in the world and he would take me to the best place in the best city in the world, that it was so beautiful that I would not be able to breathe...

It was, indeed, breathtaking. We watched the sunset from the west of the city, where the coastline curves around the Mediterranean creating a harbor and bay where the historic center of city is nestled. We are on the outer Western curve, by the industrial part of the city. Mario shares his vision for this part of Napoli, to transform the old factory buildings into art museums, build restaurants and shops by the sea. I can see it, perfectly...

Mario also is just a good soul, the youngest of eight children in a big Italian family that spans 28 years, known by the family as "the sweetest" of all the brothers. This was clear from his conversations with me. He is a spiritual and kind person who is dedicated to making a difference in the world and does everyday through his kindnesses and hard work and the sunshine he brings into others' lives, as he did into mine that day. I feel like I have more faith in the future and salvation of the world just knowing he exists!

Am grateful for experiencing his goodness... So many good people in the world and how lucky I am to meet some along the way... If you are familiar with tikkun olam, the concept from Jewish mysticism about reconnecting all the fractured bits of light scattered around the world to heal the earth - Meeting someone like Mario for me is like connecting again with one of these points of light.

If enough of us focus on healing the world together, it is possible... Anything is possible.

Other Italy stops included Pompei, Siena, Cinque Terre... I cannot extoll the virtues of Italy enough. I breathe more deeply and walk more slowly and feel more like a goddess here than anywhere on earth, apparently - I plan to trasplant this feeling, this way of being, back to the U.S...

Pompei was a marvel because here in a place of real art and culture and beauty a city was frozen in time. It is chilling and beautiful to see it, to see the plaster casts of people who were captured frozen in a moment in their everyday lives, surprised by the sudden volcanic eruption and shower of volcanic ash.

Siena is a medieval city, still intact today, and I climb the towers there for an overview of the red roofs, Tuscan hillsides, city walls. The Duomo in Siena knocks me out.

Just when you think you cannot breathe in any more beauty, there is more - the vaulted ceilings, the blue and white striped marble columns, the busts of Popes and noble figures along the ceiling vault, the frescos, the mosaic tile floors with stories of creation and resurrection - it is too much, really, it is about as much beauty as I can take in one day... I breathe it in...

And Cinque Terre - here I walk the Via Dell'Amore (Lover's Lane or the Road of Love) and marvel at the cliffside villages with the picturesque pastel houses of melon, peach, pink - I have a picnic lunch of formaggio and foccacia in a hidden cemetery which is a beautiful and quiet place with cliffside views. I hike for hours and watch the sunset over the cliffs and dine in a little place in Monterosso... I meditate on the rocks by the Mediterranean Sea. It is a quiet, lovely, replenishing time.

My last week has been so replenishing and I am grateful for this. Sometimes travel can be tiring and our bodies and souls just need to recharge, and the last few quiet, lovely days in Italy and my first few days in wondrous and wonderful Barcelona have provided just this for me. It is time to reflect on lessons of travel too, and to offer gratitude for the gifts.

I am so grateful for the kindness of strangers - it is this really that has made the world so welcoming, such a wonderland for me. Mario was a stranger who made Napoli friendly for me, and who is now a friend. By the Town Hall in Siena, a nice couple from Illinois shared their picnic lunch with me. They insisted on feeding me crackers, goat cheese, part of a pear, orange, grapes and cookies.

In Pompei Gianni befriended me and helped me to find my way to Napoli, bought me coffee and pizza and just kept me company, walking me through the square at night and showing me an archaelogical dig site off the beaten path, near where he grew up, that he insists I was the first tourist ever to see! This is probably true. I will remember this always.

It is little kindnesses like this that you remember, and hopefully pass on, in the world...

© Lisa Powell Graham 2006

Roma: non basta una vita...

"It is a night with a lovely girl and 100 flowers," Antonio says....

We are on a night tour of the city on his scooter, my arms wrapped around his waist and his lap filled with two dozen roses that I bought for my friend Francesca, who is hosting me here in the city... It is my first night in Roma. He takes me to Trevi Fountain, breathtaking by night, where I toss a coin over my shoulder and make a wish to return to Roma...

We zip by the Colloseum, Piazza Venezia, Piazza di Spagna with the famous Spanish steps where beautiful people historically gathered hoping to be spotted for work as models... onto the Piazza del Popolo with dual churches at the foot of Pincio Hill. The city is marvelous by moonlight.

Antonio wants to kiss me and I refuse; I learn "abbracciare," the Italian word for hug. He is a friend but also a hot-blooded Italian man so I have to set the boundaries. Sometimes I feel like I should hang one of the museum-style "non toccare" signs around my neck - look, don't touch.

The attention is still lovely however and it is a gift to have friends in the city as I do, mostly people I have connected with through other friends in the States. Roma is like a dream to me and the magic of these moments makes it so.

There are many more: dinner at Fortunato near the Pantheon where Bill Clinton and Prince Charles dine when they are in town, a treat from Claudio who works in PR for the Minister of Justice; we have spaghetti with frutti di mare (seafood) and it is exquisite in a red sauce with just the right touch of red pepper, then white fish in a light buttery sauce with patatas. Mmmm...

There is champagne with Gianfranco, who deals in Napa Valley wines, at the Pergola on the top floor of the Hilton with stunning views of Roma. Flavio, another friend, takes me out in Trastevere and we have liqueur shots out of dark chocolate cups in an out-of-the-way bookstore cafe that specializes in exotic drinks, like Absinthe, which they actually serve! And Alessandro and I drink amaretto and chocolate liqueur and eat fine chocolates from Brazil while discussing Buddhism, politics and friendships around the world.

Life, what can I say, is good... It is la dolce vita, indeed... I've never been wined and dined so much in my life. The men have all been gentlemen and good company; some have become good friends already and will remain so after this trip. I could get used to this...

And life is sacred here, eternal... I awake to the sound of church bells my first morning in Roma, here in the home of the Pope, the eternal city that is a living museum, streets full of monuments, sculptures, fountains, piazzas by some of history's great artists, the grandeur of the days of the Empire still present in every walk I take...

Rome is monumental. Besides being home to master works by Michaelangelo, Raphael, Bernini, Caravaggio, the city itself is a work of art. The buildings are grand, there are metro stations with marble angels perching on ledges above the curving facades, there are mythological figures spouting water in the endless fountains...

For me the feeling of the eternal city is expressed in the water fountains along the street that run eternally, water pouring from a tap into the street, where fashionably dressed cat-eyed Italian women stop for a drink, pulling back their long dark hair to drink from the flowing water, before rushing to their next destination in this buzzing modern and historic city...

Although the pace here is of a big modern city, Roma slows me down. I walk more slowly to admire everything, feeling like I have all the time in the world.

I sashay, walking like a runway model, swishing my hips, wearing heels on cobblestone streets and fitted skirts and dresses, only because this is Roma and it feels right to do this here. La moda matters here.

And I feel sexier in Roma...

If you are a 35 year old woman getting a divorce, as I am, and want to feel feminine and beautiful, even adored, again, I suggest spending some time in Roma where you feel like a W-O-M-A-N... There is something in the air here.

It doesn't hurt here that the men who sell you coffee or bus tickets often look like Calvin Klein underwear models. And you don't buy shampoo at CVS, you buy it at a profumeria. How much more sexy is that?

Even the names of my friends here all have three or four syllables, are more melodic: Giambattista, Alessandro, Gianfranco, Francesca, Claudio, Flavio... They roll off the tongue.

La lingua italiana is poetry to my ears; the national language was shaped by La Divina Commedia by Dante after all and all the words ending in "o" and "gia" make basic conversation, even swear words, which I am learning, perche non (why not?), sound like music....

I feel like I traveled 9,000 years to get here as well, having traveled back to the Paleothic and Neolithic Ages in Greece...

At the Benaki Museum in Athens, I marveled at small red clay female figurines, with full breasts and swollen bellies likely symbolizing fertility, that could fit in the palm of my hand and that date back to 6500 BC.

I experienced the Early Bronze Age, the Cypriots, the Archaic Period, the Mycenaens, through art, history coming alive for me in a way that it cannot through only reading it in books. I feel the energy of the creative spirit that has documented history and stories through art for thousands and thousands of years, predating language.

I marvel at the time and precision needed to create a Byzantine mosaic, a gold-leafed icon, a richly embroidered traditional costume... The care, the love, the artistry that went into all of these is breathtaking and such a reminder of the power of the human spirit to create things of great beauty.

You feel so much through this art, it raises so many questions and tells so many stories, about how people worshipped and lived, how they ate and worked, what their lives were like. It's awe-inspiring to absorb this much history in a few short days...

I learn too more about the Byzantine era which spanned from approximately the 4th to 15th century AD, the Greek-speaking Roman empire centered in Constantinople, i.e. my beloved Istanbul. It is one of my favorite periods in art.

I learn how priests and laypeople both fought for the right to create and display iconography, that this art was nearly lost when all religious imagery was banned from Byzantine art for over a century starting in 726, and the efforts of a dedicated few saved it. Icons were the common people's bible, the way to share the stories of Christianity with the illiterate versus reserving the religion for only the learned.

This art had a real impact in that time and I marvel now at its beauty; I love the icons with gold-leaf and rich reds, the endless depictions of Madonna and child and Christ and his apostles.

It's easy to forget in an Internet age and coming from a country where it is common to earn advanced degrees that even today an estimated 870 million adults are illiterate; art has always been a vehicle to share stories and emotions with all.

I feel the sense of great civilizations rising and falling when Xenia tours me through the Acropolis in Athens, the Parthenon which I learn means "Temple of the Virgin Athena," the Acropolis Museum, the porch of Caryatides, the Propylaea, or grand entrance leading into the sacred temple area...

I learn the Greek legend about how Athena and Poseidon battled it out for the city; she planted an olive tree as her offering and Poseidon struck a rock and water came out. The people of the city valued olive oil more and voila, the city was named for this goddess...

I learn that the owl is the national bird of Greece, symbolizing wisdom, and that the pomegranates featured in the ancient statues symbolize fertility. In small traditional villages for a housewarming guests would throw a pomegranate on the steps; it would burst open and the red seeds were supposed to bring good luck and fertility.

I was blessed to get to see a live performance that same night in the Odeon of Herodes Atticus - the Martha Graham Dance Company bringing Greek myths to life through dance. I got chills thinking about the great performances and culture that had cycled through this land centuries before, when Aeschylus and Euripides would perform comedies and tragedies in theater competitions in the nearby Theater of Dionysus, that accommodated 17,000 spectators...

Xenia encouraged me to visualize, and I did, the great minds that helped launch Western civilization walking on these grounds, talking about philosphy... It's so much more palpable when you've been in the space, seen a performance in the theater, walked the sacred grounds.

I learn, and I learn, and I learn... After a few days in sexy Roma (which, my friend Gianfranco points out, is "Amor" spelled backwards!!) I make a detour to Firenze, i.e. Florence. The city is quiet and small in comparison to Rome, magnificently beautiful, with endless cobbled alleys, green shuttered buildings, red tile roofs....

Dante lived here and Michaelangelo, and endless artists including the incomparable Caravaggio flourished under the patronage of the Medicis. The vibe here is so different from Roma, much more mellow, more art students sitting in Piazzas endlessly sketching fountains and facades, less rushing and more women in sensible shoes versus the high stilettos on the cobblestones streets of sexy Roma.

This is interesting to me, since besides gelaterias, lingerie stores are the most frequent type of shop I see in Firenze. Sneakers and lingerie, art and history, Ponte Vecchio which survived the Nazy occupation and is a timeless symbol of the city... Firenze is complex...

My first night here my friend Giambattista tours me around on his scooter by night - how did I get so lucky to experience all of Italy this way?? We go to Piazza Michaelangelo for an overview of the city and Giamba, who is a professional photographer, teaches me how to take a night-time picture of the city skyline using an open aperture and lengthy exposure. I capture the Duomo and Santa Croce by night - wow...

Then he takes me to Pizza Man in Firenze where I have, I kid you not, THE BEST PIZZA OF MY LIFE (with apologies to DeFazio's in Troy, NY, where I regularly indulge in the best pizza I've ever eaten elsewhere in the world).

I eat a whole pizza. A whole pizza! This, for me, is a record, but every bite is mouthwateringly perfect and the next bite just as good...

The pizzas are simple. I have half a pizza margharita and half of one with fresh cherry tomatoes and basil. The crust is light and thin and you fold it in half. The tomatoes are so fresh. The cheese is exquisite, sliding off the sauce, yet sparingly applied vs. the greasy mozzarella that often gets glopped onto slices in the States. Everything applied judiciously- and so fresh!

The pizza is lighter with pure ingredients that all taste farm fresh and you taste every ingredient in every bite. That said there is really no way to describe properly in words why and how this is so much better than the pizzas in the U.S. (you must go to Pizza Man and experience it for yourself!) but one pizza and a few glasses of plum grappa later, I am a very happy, satiated woman.

Luckily I walk 1,000 steps the next day to burn off that pizza. I climb to the top of the Duomo and a few hours later climb the Campanile by sunset, for both daytime and evening views over the red roofs of Florence and surrounding Tuscan hillsides.

I catch a mass at the Duomo, just to experience that in Italian, and try ribollita, the filling and tasty Florence soup with vegetables and pieces of crusty bread soaked in the soup broth. It is delicious. I finally try panna cotta, one of my favorite desserts in the U.S., here in Italy and it is creamy, smooth, so creamy, delicious, and smothered in hot chocolate sauce flavored with liqueur.

The tiramisu is divine, and I've tried at least seven flavors of gelato by now, including the famous varieties at San Crispino near Trevi Fountain, which specializes in honey flavored gelato.

What can I say? I walk the streets of Italy all day and feast at night - My body is no worse for the wear, maybe slightly curvier, who can say, but I'm still in good shape and having nice curves never hurt a woman, especially here in Italy.... The men are not complaining.

I still have many sights to see in the week I have left in this beautiful country: Cinque Terre, Pompeii, Siena, Venezia. Today I toured the Vatican Museums, and there is too much to say here about that now (more soon) but suffice it to say I cried in the Sistine Chapel and could have spent a week there. Next week I will tour the famed Uffizi Gallery in Florence.

How did I get so lucky??? Sono felice, sono contenta.

That is not to say that every moment of my travels has been perfect and glamorous, of course... I've stayed in not-so-fancy but very friendly youth hostels and crashed on the couches of some gracious friends, been ripped off by an illegitimate taxi driver when caught during an Italian local transportation strike today, had some nights of less than optimal sleep.

But I'm happy, and I've learned that I can live with less, live more simply, than I once thought... We need so little, really, to be happy. Food, a safe place to sleep, some good company, and beauty.... I am an aesthete, seeking beauty everywhere, and I find it.

Seek and ye shall find...

Beauty will save the world... At least, I am counting on this. It is everywhere, and perhaps there is a higher concentration in Italy, but that is all a matter of perspective.

I breathe in beauty and it feeds me... It is replenishing. It calms my soul.

No matter the hardships or inconveniences of travel, which are always part of the deal, the moments of beauty define my travels for me.

These are the moments I will remember, always....

© Lisa Powell Graham 2006