They are achingly beautiful, these romantic cities—Barcelona, Paris, Rome. The contours of Europe are far more mysterious and deeply layered than those of America, much like the “promised land” I had always been told about but knew deep in my heart did not exist. It was like I had died and gone to heaven, and it had been there all the time, on earth, across the sea on a secular continent.
In the same way humanity has been drawn to fire, I am surprisingly comforted by Barcelona’s warmth and protection.
I had not experienced a large city in the first half of my life, so perhaps that is why I was so attracted to it as an adult. Humans are born with an instinct to live close in large groups and desire the assurance and energy of others.
The neighborhoods are familiar but also unfamiliar. Wandering about these cities slowly, exploring, I am seduced by the haunting proximity of the past and aroused by the throbbing sensuality of the present. I feel myself in constant states of erection: physical, intellectual, emotional, and spiritual.
Paradoxes are everywhere: sacred and profane spaces, holy and unholy ground, thin and dark places, refined and gritty streets, masterpieces and graffiti art, expensive perfume and raw sewage, perfectly coifed fashionistas, and the unapologetic rags of the homeless. If you take time to pay attention to these contradictions, it’s like looking at everything in a truer way, a way you never thought of, a kind of off-kilter dream world. At times, it’s not pleasant or even comfortable, but that’s part of the charm.
Consider the ecstatic paradox of the numinous, both fascinating and terrifying.
Numinous refers to a profound, mystical experience that evokes feelings of awe and wonder, often associated with the divine or supernatural.
It encompasses the spiritual sense, creating an awareness of something greater than oneself, a significant aspect of understanding the soul of a city.
There is also the paradox of urban mystery—that a city can be both deeply known and ultimately unknowable. Cities are enigmas to be explored but never solved. Throughout history, great artists have delved into Barcelona’s “ancient inner Barcelona-ness,” Paris’ ancient inner Paris-ness, and Rome’s ancient inner Rome-ness, skimming the surface yet never fully plumbing their depths.
Artists symbolize the epitome of paradox. Barcelona had the whimsical architecture of Gaudi and the analytical cubism of Picasso; in Paris, Renoir painted nudes and human figures; Monet painted light and landscapes; and Rome had the harmony of Michelangelo and the drama of Bernini. By allowing us to look through their eyes, these men of genius have forever changed how we view their respective cities and cultures.
One has only to mention La Sagrada de Familia, the Eiffel Tower, or the Vatican, and our minds are immediately transported to the heart of Spain, France, and Italy—the freedom of form and voluptuous color of Antoni Gaudi, the structure and wrought-iron monument to humanism by Gustave Eiffel, and the golden opulence and colossal dome of Michelangelo. These symbols point to a central truth about these cities—for Barcelona, it is the physical; Paris, it is the intellectual; and for Rome, it is the spiritual.
Culture: All I need to utter are the words paella, pastry, and pasta; instantaneously, you will know the city whose cuisine I am referencing.
Cuisine: Jamón, Boeuf Bourguignon, or Bolognese. Tapas, Hors d’oeuvres, or Antipasti. Pan Con Tomate, Crêpes, or Pizza.
Wines: The nectar of the gods, La Rioja, Bordeaux, and Chianti. And, of course, the sparkling wines, Cava, Champagne, and Prosecco.
Museums: the Picasso, the Louvre, and the Borghese.
Movies: Pan’s Labyrinth, Last Tango in Paris, and Life is Beautiful.
Writers: Miguel de Cervantes, Victor Hugo, and Dante Alighieri.
Dance: The Flamenco, the Can-Can, and the Tarantella.
Songs: Macarena, La Vie En Rose, O Sole Mio.
And so much more.
Each of these paradoxes, artists, and aspects of culture represents an easily recognizable city. The layers underneath the touristy facades and Instagrammable moments are mysterious and deeply layered. They require much more than a brief visit and a few photographs to discover the myriad treasures that await. One must pay attention and be present to fully experience the haunting proximity of the past and be aroused by the throbbing sensuality of the present.
I watch as the American tourists rush helter-skelter from one place to another, tour La Sagrada in twenty minutes, go to American fast-food joints, eat at the restaurants rated best on social networks, and miss the culinary jewels, go to TripAdvisor’s top five things to do and never ask a local’s advice, and clog Old Town’s narrow streets buying tawdry souvenirs. “Check that off the list, got the T-shirt, got the Instagram photo; what’s next?”
I am incredibly grateful that I managed to relocate across the Atlantic to a land rich with history, art, architecture, culture, cuisine, and wine. Every morning, I wonder what magic the new day holds. Taking the elevator to the lobby, I greet our concierge Julian with a Que tal? He answers muy bien, y tu? and I smile and say, ah, Julian, ¡genial, hoy estoy genial!
And then I walk out into the throbbing heart of this great city and decide if I go left or right. Shall I hop on a high-speed train and eat lunch in Paris or savor dinner in Rome? Or perhaps visit Notre Dame or St. Peter’s? Yes. There’s something about living among the great cities of the world.
And then, of course, there is Barcelona. I live here, you know. Shall I go to one of the world’s greatest museums, a Roman ruin, a tantric massage, and then have lunch at one of the 26 Michelin-starred restaurants a few minutes away? Or if I’m not feeling fancy, one of the “normal” restaurants (there are so many to choose from if you go to a different one every day, it would take over 30 years to visit all of them.)
Perhaps this puts it best,
Las Ramblas, I’ll meet you
Ed Sheeran
We’ll dance around la Sagrada Familia
(Barcelona)
Drinking sangría
Come on, let’s be free in Barcelona
Las Ramblas, I’ll meet you
Come on and dance with me in Barcelona
Drinking Sangría
I just want to be in Barcelona
Just close your eyes
And let’s pretend we’re dancing in the street
In Barcelona.
This week I have two new art creations: one features A NUDE and one A PENIS. Enjoy. Not for prudes.
Leave a Reply