13 May 2009

Gauditopia

I'm not sure what we were trying to prove in the past twenty-four hours, but LB + I covered so much ground it's kinda demented really. The thing is, everything is so compact + so clearly delineated on a map, it's shaded in different color gradations to denote neighborhoods + streets, subways + tourist traps. Everything is so stunningly obvious with a bird's eye point of view. But your legs have a different agenda, and maps don't have to walk their own scales either. Let's just say that when we we finally slept, we collapsed onto the bed, too tired to tango if you know what I mean.

Here are some of the places we hit today:

1. Another Gaudi apartment I'm too lazy to look up, but I assure you it's not the one near Passeig de Grácia, whichever one that is

2. All of Parc Güell, which is one of the prettiest parks I've ever seen. Added bonus: we watched a French teenager throw an empty soda bottle at a performing samurai who got so understandably pissed off, he chased him around in circles until that kid tried to hide behind the field trip chaperones, where the samurai explained in choppy French that the Arab-French fucker had just thrown something at his head. The miscreant got yelled at, we stepped to the side and enjoyed the show as he tried to deny any wrongdoing: --c'est pas moi, he cried. No one believed him

3. The Sagrada Familia. For those of you shaking your head, just google "Barcelona" and you'll see Gaudi's unfinished masterpiece, a sort of architectural paean to Christianity, in all of its mutilated glory. This cathedral is stunning. But it's also really fucking weird. I mean, it looks like a place where space aliens deposited old lightbulbs. Or said another way: imagine a towering giant grabbing a handful of wet sand + then squeezing his hands to squirt the sand into tall piles. That's the Sagrada Familia

4. Torre Agbar, probably the second or third most famous tower in Barcelona's landscape, and without a doubt, the largest red-white-and-blue glass dildo in the whole world

5. The Arc de Triomf, which was like a Gaudian version of the French L'Arc de Triomphe. In a strange sort of way, I like it more than the French one, perhaps because it's less hyped and people get to walk through it because it's part of the city grid, not stranded on some island with the tomb of the unknown soldier where crazy Parisian drivers go in circles until they throw up on themselves. But I dunno, maybe they don't actually throw up on themselves. Maybe I just like imagining French people throwing up on themselves as they drive around in circles to avoid the Champs-Elysée

6. Parc de la Ciutadella: this was a consolation prize for the fact that our hotel forgot to wake us up so we missed our train to Montpellier where we'd scheduled a five-hour layover to explore the city a bit, and our only other choice in Barcelona was to buy ghetto seats for this overpriced, night Train to Paris that left twelve hours later (with the help of another 140 dollars, of course) + spend all day either in this park like a homeless couple (cf. our first night in Barcelona) or inside the Estació de França (#7). By the way, we saw green parrots in the park. And, as an addendum, I don't care how much work it is, I'm gonna get me a couple free nights at hotel heartache, + Whitney Houston, you can help me sing the chorus sister . . .

7. The Estació de França, where LB + I spent at least seven hours, doing absolutely nothing as we waited for time to pass. We tried to stretch our humble dinner of olive bread + vegan curry pâté + cookies as far as we could, but in the end, we were ready to get back to Paris. In Europe, it was the closest thing we had to home.





























































2 comments:

Kater said...

Dear Jackson,

I'm wondering very much if you could do me the HUGEST FAVOR IN THE WHOLE WORLD while you're in Paris. It's for a good cause that I think you'd appreciate---love!---and it might just be a cool experience too. My roommate and love-of-my-life, Jonathan, has been pining for a certain extraordinarily rare parfum since he first experienced it at an exclusive showing of JAR jewelry in London a few years ago, and I've been trying to find it for him ever since. Unfortunately, it's only available to buy in person at Joel Arthur Rosenthal's shop on the rue de Castiglione. It's called Papillion and it smells like lilacs.

From what I understand, a bottle of this stuff is around $300. If you find out the price I can PayPal you the money (obviously before you buy it).

If you can look for this for me I will owe you the hugest favor ever for the rest of my life.

Love,
KPG

JACKSON BLISS 水と魂 said...

Ah KPG,

Your perfume costs more than my jeans do. Amazing. Boo, if I was still in Paris, I would totally try + find it for you. For you, for love, for simply the association of smell, any of those reasons would do. But I just recently got back to Chicago. . . I've been incomunicado for a little while. I really wish I could help you, but I'm no longer in Paris.