True Colours (Barcelona)

After a long and stressful transit day I slept well and I'd like to add long, but, you know, 6:30 am and I was awake. It was probably a good thing, dear reader, because today we were off to the Gaudi Cathedral, Sagrada Familia. Our ticket access was for 30 minutes from 9:45 am.

A slow paced morning was planned with a brief stop for breakfast. Ah, the best laid plans. I had downloaded the tickets purchased through a third party supplier - I thought I was on the official site. Why is it so difficult to purchase tix through the actual website? Anyway. The tix were safely on my phone. I hadn't downloaded the audio guide because, well it doesn't matter. I thought it would be best to do this on the day.

Inspiration in the foyer of the hotel.

Until I tried to load the guide onto my phone. It wanted me to download an app first. Epic fail. It didn't recognise my Apple ID and I couldn't change the password and go through the process again because there was a 60 minute delay because I'm overseas. Curse you Apple. You haven't worked that out from where my phone pings?

Still not sure what it is, but we passed it on the way.

Brain wave. Jayne could load the app so I bluetoothed my headphones to her phone. Problem solved. We could both listen via her phone while she hot spotted the network from me. Simple eh? As we were heading out for the 11 minute walk to the Cathedral, Jayne decided to check with the doorman. No, no, no, he said. We have many Cathedrals, he said. That is not the right one, he said. Straight down this street, 8 or 9 blocks and turn left - you can't miss it.

He was right. You can't miss it.

He was correct. You couldn't miss it and maybe the 8 or 9 was 10, I can't remember. Turning left, there it was in all its cranes and scaffolding and unfinishedness. And another four or five blocks to the entrance. The 11 minutes was closer to 30 and we were on the outer limit of our time but it was all good. And crowded. Not Dubrovnik crowded, but it was up there.

The exterior from the main entrance.

We passed through the security, akin to an airport and made the forecourt where the next drama unfolded. The app downloaded from our tickets was from the dodgy third party supplier and was redundant. A wonderfully helpful young man in a red shirt, assisted with the correct procedure and the audio guide was loaded onto Jayne's phone. Problem averted.

The nativity.

Momentarily. It appears that Apple only allows one set of headphones to be connected at any one time. If I was connected, Jayne could hear nothing and vice versa. Once again, curse you Apple. Back to the nice young man in the red shirt. I explained the issue and he sent me to another person who ushered me down a ramp to an office where they stored the old audio guides. Apparently they kept them for inept old people like me.

Audio guide around my neck, the next problem was averted. And so the pushing of buttons and juggling of camera commenced as we listened to the commentary about Gaudi and the ongoing construction of the Cathedral. The exterior of the building is, well, unusual. Yes it borrows its curves and structural styles from nature but it looks weird to anyone from a straight lined world. It is difficult to imagine how his ideas came to be accepted all those years ago.

The ornate outside is a mass of towers and sculptures depicting scenes from the Bible. The Jesus tower, still under construction is planned to be 172.5m high only .5m shorter than the nearest peak. Man made things should never tower over those made by God, according to Gaudi.

One of the many stained glass windows.

The photo doesn't capture the riot of colour.

If you think the outside is spectacular nothing prepares you for the riot of colour when you walk inside. And there lies the inspiration for today's title. True Colours by Cyndi Lauper from 1986. There are stained glass windows everywhere in varying hues of the cooler blues and greens (the dawn of the Nativity) as well as the warmer oranges and yellows (the sunset of the Passion). It is impossible to know where to look first. Unlike a traditional artwork that draws your eye to a point, this was a sensation. The windows, the massive pillars, the floating crucifix and the hundreds of vapid morons posing in front of anything worthy of their attention, because it's about them really. Duck face, lift a leg, pout, smile.

Towering pillars.

There were people inside the Cathedral that would never have been allowed into a Synagogue for example. Uncovered shoulders, bare midriffs, Gosford skirts. It's about respect and they had very little.

Above the altar.

The centre of the space contained some pews where people could sit and reflect. LOL. Between the noise of the visitors and the sounds from the construction site, there was very little about the interior of the Cathedral that was contemplative. 

Seriously?

As I said in the last post, travelling makes it easier to be less tolerant of others. I watched as entire families, disregarding those around them, blocked views for everyone as all members of their family individually took the same video footage. Or those that were in such a hurry that they had ditched their audio guides and were just talking at the top of their voices as they walked through. Then there were the cruise ship crowds. It was like the Biblical scene in the temple with the money changers except Jesus didn't turn up with a whip. I would have paid more to see that.

The skylight above the altar.

With a minor detour to the sacristy - over the top, and an opportunity to peer down into the crypt and spy on the true worshippers, we were soon out the other side. The space here was even more limited and it was no easy task to see what the audio guide was describing to us. Even crossing the street for a photo did not prove successful. The Cathedral is massive on any scale and is difficult to photograph.

The exit from across the street.

The façade on this side revealed more statues depicting Christ's passion. Unusually, Jesus on the cross is without loin cloth. I'd not seen that previously. His head was typically facing downwards, in contrast to the crucifix above the altar where he is facing skyward.

Unclothed. 

My audio guide was deposited in the receptacle and we commenced the walk back to the hotel, determined to pause for breakfast on the way. Well, a coffee and croissant for an early lunch then. We finally found a café, not a bar, and enjoyed our very late breakfast.

A series of graphics on the floor near the exit doors.

After a brief stop at our room, we spoke with the Concierge about what places we should visit. He booked both Gaudi houses for us for tomorrow and recommended a number of other sights, some of which had not appeared on our radar. That was Thursday sorted. Time for domesticity and a couple of hours at the Lakely Bugaderia Laundry. Time well spent, the owner was lovely and helpful and we were back at the hotel in the afternoon with clean clothes.

In preparation for our trip to Sitges, we decided to check out the train station from where we would be departing on Monday. Passeig de Gracia Station is only about 10 minutes walk from the hotel, but it houses both the Metro and some suburban trains. We eventually found what we were after and a lift to allow easy access from street level. Although I was still uncertain about the train times. A problem for another day.

Back to the hotel, we decided to check out the rooftop bar and enjoy a couple of cervezas while surveying Barcelona. Then it was time to change for an earlier dinner than last evening. We strolled back to Ciutat Comtal in the hope of getting a table to discover the outdoor section is for tourists and there were two stories of seating inside, and what appeared to be a corner bar.

Unlike last night, the tapas was sensational. Beef and foie montinados, prawn skewers and a baguette with jamon, chicken and a delightfully messy, tasty sauce. Oh, and a bottle of local verdello all for €50. I was happy.

Because we had eaten early, we walked down La Rambla. It is recommended on just about every travel guide. In reality it is little more than say a long Pitt Street Mall, with less buskers. Although it extends further than we walked. There are lots of designer label stores and people strutting their finest. Unimaginative and uninteresting. Except for the Pandora store, dear reader. A Pandora Spanish fan charm firmly secured on Jayne's wrist, we walked the short distance home.

One of the art pieces in the hotel.

A very full first full day in Barcelona. I love it. And I haven't even mentioned the amazing architecture. No, not that the Gaudi stuff.

Until tomorrow, or the day after ...

Funiculi Funicula (Ljubljana, Slovenia)

Right, dear reader, let's get today's title out of the way. We rode in yet another funicular, this time to the Ljubljana Castle. That's our third funicular in three cities. So to celebrate, I have opted for the classic song that was actually written to celebrate the opening of the funicular up the side of Mt Vesuvius. Who needs that? Lunatics. There are, of course, many versions of the 1880 song but I have chosen the Pavarotti rendition. Have a listen, you know you want to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jOqr9wWxxF8. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The weather forecasters are disarmingly accurate. Yesterday afternoon's sunshine had disappeared overnight. The morning dawned grey, threatening rain at any moment. We had decided to brave the possibility of rain and explore the old town in the morning. It was about a 10 minute walk from the hotel.

The statue of Preseren overlooks his Square.

We hadn't strayed far from the hotel entrance before the drizzle commenced. The cloud was moving fast so I reasoned it would blow away quickly. This proved to be correct. It also meant that another lot of showers wasn't far behind the next sunny period.

How lucky! A Pandora store.

Importantly we came across the Pandora store and sort refuge there while Jayne selected her Slovenia charm. It was right on the main square near the river and we could see the covered markets from the door. Once the new charm was safely in place on the bracelet, we walked towards the market square. The individual stalls sold Slovenian focussed goods, honey, dragons made of glass, wood and fluffy versions, carved wooden implements and the usual sort of fare.

Yum!

Along the river bank stretches a building that houses many individual eating and drinking establishments. Choosing one is not an easy task. The first couple we passed featured locals sitting outside on the verandah enjoying a breakfast rosé or beer. It had just gone 10:00am, prompting Jayne to remark, "Not even I would drink rosé that early". No, thought I, no rosé, but champagne? Absolutely.

The 'covered' markets.

The other complicating factor in choosing a place to eat is the epidemic of smokers. It's like Australia back in the 60s or 70s. We found a place that had ample space beneath an umbrella and there were no smokers in the immediate vicinity. The espresso was excellent as was the ham and emmental panini. While we were eating, the clouds opened up with three brief but torrential downpours that sent people scurrying everywhere. We remained, reasonably protected by the umbrella.

I hope he's trained.

Breakfast/lunch done we walked down to the iconic dragon bridge for the obligatory photos and then around the produce market. The fruit and veggies looked so fresh and delicious. I wouldn't be shopping anywhere else if I lived here and it is a 7 day per week proposition. From there, we crossed the butcher's bridge which is adorned with love locks.

The Butcher's Bridge covered in locks.

Paris, eat your heart out.

The rain was continuing so it was clearly going to impact on our plans. We stopped at the supermarket on the way back to the hotel to buy some wine and snacks and retired to the safety of our room. When the poor weather had again abated, we walked to the train station to gauge walking time and see where we would be catching the train on Sunday.

We made it back to the hotel before the rain set in for the afternoon. Room service became the dinner option. Happily the Vuelta is broadcast live and in English, so between that, the US Open tennis and the blog we were gainfully occupied.

The forecast for the next day was for storms in the afternoon. We were not about to question the forecasters and in the morning, we set out for breakfast at the same café. The rain had gone and the rosé drinkers had not yet surfaced as we strolled to the funicula to climb the hill to Ljubljana Castle.

Standing in Krek Square next to the funicular station was a drinking fountain. Nothing unusual there. Except it is a sculpture of a kangaroo. There are a number of different interpretations, one of which has the sculpture named Alfred N after Alfred Nobel. Apparently he was having an affair with a young girl he later dumped. The kangaroo has water coming from its mouth to pouch, representing the Slovenian expression of 'spitting into your own bowl'.

It got our attention.

The ride up to the castle provides views back over the city as would the castle rampart later in the morning, the latter uninterrupted by the glass walls of the funicular. Once inside, we wandered aimlessly for a while; signposting is not a strong point here, until we happened upon an audio guide symbol. We hadn't seen a collection point and set off to find one that was cleverly hidden inside the Information Centre and Souvenir shop tucked away beneath the café.

The funicular track up to the castle

Audio guide in hand, we set off to explore the castle grounds and environs with more purpose. Well, at least in the numerical order the guide represented. There was a museum of Slovenian history, a museum of puppetry (they take their puppets very seriously here), great views from the ramparts, even better 360° views from the top of the tower (after a long climb up the spiral staircase), open prison cells, solitary confinement cells, a chapel and, two video displays (using puppets); one an exhibition of Impressionist artworks displayed on the walls and ceilings of one of the vaulted rooms and another in a theatre that depicted in 3D the history of the site on which the castle stands. The photos are in no particular order.

The ceiling of the chapel.

The centre of the spiral staircase in the tower.

Preseren Square from the tower.

Clouds over the city.

The tower.

The Impressionist Exhibition #1.

The Impressionist Exhibition #2.

Some of the puppets.

An outdoor pit cell.

Yes, dear reader, there was much to cover and we spent over three hours there enjoying the exhibits, the sunshine and the view. The site has been occupied since the Bronze Age and numerous manifestations of castle fortresses have stood overshadowing Ljubljana down through the years. Versions of the castle have been burnt down, knocked down and crumbled through neglect, thankfully a local politician saw the value in restoring the current iteration in the 1960s.

Back down the hill, we walked parts of the old city. St John's Church has a couple of doors that are worthy of inspection. They certainly wouldn't encourage me to come to Mass.

Welcome. Or not.

We were well into the afternoon as we turned back to the hotel. There were ominous signs afoot and I don't mean the weather.  Metal barricades were being placed everywhere, creating segregated channels. I had a terrifying flashback to last year and Berlin. This could mean only one thing. A marathon! It is best to avoid streets that have been annexed from regular pedestrian traffic but this is no easy thing. I had no idea what the route might be. Indeed, I was only guessing it was a marathon. One of those events, where, to paraphrase Charles Emerson Winchester III of MASH fame, people come together to sweat. Time will tell.

The sun was fighting a losing battle against the building storm clouds but we were intent on visiting the counter-cultural area of Metelkova Mesto. I love a bit of street art and this community is known for it as well as their, um, different attitude to life. There were quite a number of police there when we arrived - to protect us or the residents? Who knows. There was certainly plenty art in the form of mural and sculpture. The locals? Hmm, friendly is not a word I would use. Let me just say I'm glad the police weren't far away.

This was our introduction to the 'street art precinct'.

This was next. Graffiti.

OK. Getting interesting.

Now you have my attention.

Wow.

Upclose it is a nightmare.

A little softer.

It was a 15 minute walk back to the hotel and we were racing the clouds. Safely back in our room, we watched the storm front sweep in. The wind brought the rain in horizontally. We were glad we were home, enjoying a wine and watching rather than participating.

The tower can be seen from most parts of the old town.

Dinner that night was in B Restaurant, the in-house restaurant on the 20th floor. It doesn't have a Michelin star, but it is listed in the Michelin Guide and has the red plaque at the entrance to the hotel. The food, not wildly expensive, was beautifully presented and delicious. Fine dining. An excellent way to spend out last night in Slovenia.

Pure Imagination (Zurich)

Guess where we went today, dear reader? The clue is in the title song, Pure Imagination, it's from the movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. As much as I love Timothée Chalamet's work, I have chosen to stay true to Gene Wilder from the original 1971 movie. The clip is worth watching if you remember the movie https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=myqzUur4K98. Have you managed to work it out? We're in Zurich ... that's right, we were off to the home of chocolate, the Lindt factory.

We walked a familiar route down to Central, confident that we could operate the ticket machine. All went well until the payment page. It appeared to not want to accept my payment. I kept hitting the relevant sections of the touchscreen and nothing happened. Not totally true, my attempted purchase was timed out. On the third try, Jayne noticed a tiny payscreen to the right of the large touch screen. There was no information to suggest that payment would be received on another screen. 

An installation at Central. A gift from France.

Anyway, the Swiss authorities trust everyone, according to our guide from yesterday. No one checks tickets. There are no barriers to pass through. Tickets in hand, down to the platform we went and the train arrived on time at the other end of the platform which caused a number of people to scramble. Into the carriage and quickly seated, we looked around as the train moved toward the next station. It was all a bit fancy. Then it dawned - we were in first class. Our tickets were second class. We only had a couple of stops to travel and since we weren't Swiss, we stayed.

It was about a 10 minute walk from the station. Directions were not required. There were two foolproof methods of navigation: follow the crowd, or follow your nose. The smell of chocolate was quite strong. It became pervasive as we neared the factory.

Welcome to the home of chocolate.

The journey through the "chocolate museum" is actually a metaphor for life, dear reader. The process of birth is painful and its length varies, much like the ability to master the lockers where bags must be placed. Or getting the audio guide to work. I saw many people, frustrated people (me included) before they were at peace and finally entered the world proper: the Chocolate Museum.

The audio guide stations provided an explanation of the process of making chocolate from growing the cacao bean (so labour intensive) through to making the chocolate. There was also information about the back story, the pioneering people who made chocolate what it is today.

Like life, this section of the journey had its ups and downs. Sometimes things went well and the crowd diminished, other times you couldn't get to the audio guide symbol or the exhibit. However, the trials and tribulations must be endured before you get to Nirvana. The place where you get to sample the chocolate, warm, on a spoon, straight from a machine. Not quite paradise but close.

Pump the tap for a taste.

And then, more chocolate after it had been tempered and other technical stuff. These pieces of chocolate were like manna from heaven. You simply held your hand under the tower and a piece dropped into your hand. There were multiple towers, dispensing different flavours of chocolate, if you could get close enough and avoid those who felt the need to video the experience.

Then there were some other meaningless pieces of information before the final chocolate room - a counter lined with giant bubble containers. Each was filled with a different flavoured Lindor ball and we were allowed to take one from each container. Indeed, two master chocolatiers (at least that's how they were dressed) were policing this divine precinct and they caught one sinning woman trying to take multiple delights from one container. She was told in no uncertain terms to put all bar one back and to move on. She should have been dispatched to the beginning and made to endure the museum again. Apart from the rude ignorant people who pushed and shoved and the untended miscreant children, you could think you'd died and gone to heaven - except they wouldn't be there.

By this stage I had had enough. Of crowds. Of information about chocolate. Of chocolate. I collected my balls and headed for the exit. Really? Don't be so juvenile. My Lindor chocolate balls. Out through the chocolate shop we went into the sunshine.

The ticket machine was no challenge on the return train journey. Straight back to the hotel we scurried to put our booty in the air conditioned comfort of our room. 

The afternoon was spent successfully searching for the Stadthaus to enquire about obtaining the keys to secret archaeological exhibitions scattered around the Old Town. En route to there we dropped into the Grossmünster, the salt and pepper shaker church. 

They love a flag.

Not quite Chagall.

After securing the keys at the Stadthaus we went next door to Fraumünster church with its Chagall and Giacometti windows. Absolutely stunning.

Three of the six Chagall windows.

The 9m Giacometti window.

Finally we sat down to enjoy a beer in the sunshine and then do some shopping. Yes, the Pandora charm representing Switzerland was purchased.

We had dinner at one of the local restaurants in the Altstadt that we'd noticed was particularly popular with the locals. The food and wine were good, but the cigarette smoke was really starting to aggravate.

There was rain early in the morning. Lying in bed listening to the sounds of rain on metal roof brought back childhood memories. It also made sure we were up early. Today was the 'secret key' day that we had been invited to do by Stephanie at the tourist centre on our first day in Zurich. 

Zoom in - it's impressive.

Despite being ready to go, we had to wait for the bakery to commence serving at 9am. The picture on their sign is of a croissant. There were none on display. I opted for a blackberry tart and Jayne had some apple concoction which turned out to be very similar to a small apple pie. We sat and ate near the fountain - the one supervised by the medieval soldier with the massive codpiece.

The breakfast bar. Great name.

Appetite sated, we crossed the river to the Stadthaus and collected the keys to set off in search of site number 1. Fraumünster was stop number 1 but we decided against it because we had visited yesterday and it would cost another 10 francs to go inside. The second destination was St Peter's, the church with the big clock face. It was closed for renovation until the end of October. A bit long to wait.

St Peter's.

The next location was in a laneway leading down to the river. Part of the footpath had been replaced with a metal grate that allowed the amateur archeologist to view the remnant Roman baths beneath. There was a pictorial explanation on the wall. As digs go it was rather small. In this case perhaps size does matter.

Our attention was then focused on site number four, Lindenhof-Keller. It came with detailed instructions on how to access the underground chamber. Google maps suggested we had overshot the mark when we arrived at the park above the Roman wall. Not far from where we were, a small group of students was milling around as their teacher was trying to lift a floor plate. "We're here," I said to Jayne and pointed to the group. One problem solved, we wouldn't need to unlock access.

Impressive?

There were a few words exchanged with the group leader as we showed we also had keys and down we went into the very confined space underneath the building. What was visible were the remains of a Roman built wall. Hardly a spectacular find.

Next we tried to locate Parkhaus Urania with its golden jewellery artefacts. This proved a difficulty until a pleasant young tradie pointed us in the right direction, literally down into the underground car park where a simulated representation of the archaeological dig site was portrayed behind a perspex screen, along with a picture of some gold trinkets that had apparently been unearthed when they were excavating the site for the car park. Ho hum. Not worthy of a photo.

The five sites on the north-eastern side of the Limmat had proven underwhelming. Back on our side of the river, we went in search of Stadtmauerkeller in the university sector. Again, the entrance was not well signposted. It was in fact little more than an unassuming door to the street. However, the key fit and in we went, onto a metal landing overlooking a room with an exposed section of the ground. This turned out to be part of the original Roman wall of the old town. There was an example of the style of piping used by those ancient world builders and one exposed pipe entrance. Again there was further information on the wall.

The wall.

The pipe.

The excitement was almost unbearable as we set course for site number 6, Brunnegasse, which required the use of a fob to open the door. Well, it would have, if there weren't renovations happening in the building. Again there was no signage and we set out down the passageway to be turned back by a local and directed up the stairs. 

Party time.

On the wall, protected by perspex was a mural dating back to the 1330s depicting the life of a well-to-do Jewish family, their banquet scenes and the coats of arms of the guests.

Next stop was a restored 1800s villa. We had actually stopped here on the walking tour. The façade is little different to any of the other buildings and there was no option to view inside. Downstairs was an art supply store.

The villa. Are you still awake?

The church that was number 9 on our list was not open yet so we continued past our hotel further into the Aldstadt to a sewer passage. Not something I thought I'd ever write in my blog. Again, another unassuming doorway but the key fit and the handle turned and we found ourselves in a very confined space. We turned the lights on and made our to the other end. It was akin to a scene from Willy Wonka where the walls and ceiling seemed to converge on you. The exit door was a squeeze.

A bit shit really.

I've seen bigger skateboards.

Thankfully back into the sunshine we meandered to the Stadthaus to return the key and collect Jayne's passport which was left as a security. It was time for a beer and a discussion of where this walking archeological excursion sits on our list of underwhelming adventures. Personally, it's toward the top for me. A city that has such significant and obvious Roman heritage and the best they can muster is a few dingy rooms with the bits of heritage that haven't been destroyed. Mind you, they obviously regressed after the Romans left, if their sewer options were to defecate out of an annex over the laneway.

Then it was time to return to our hotel to start the process of packing up in preparation for an early departure the next morning. Once this was achieved, we ventured out once more to determine a final dinner venue and then wandered down to the riverside for an afternoon Swiss refresher of wine, sausage, onion, cornichons and bread, accompanied by some people watching. This pursuit revealed an individual who blatantly engaged in un-Swiss civil disobedience by swimming in the part of the river where it is not allowed - fines apply if you are caught. We also watched multiple river cruise boats slide by, under the low bridges and numerous young women, stopping to pull duck face for influencer selfies. 

Illegal activity.

Our last day in Zurich concluded with an Italian dinner, next door to our hotel, which was fortunate as the weather had finally turned and the rain the locals were missing, commenced. The dinner menu was heavily focussed around the giant wood-fired oven (as large as yours, Luke) and it was mesmerising to watch the two chefs churn out all manner of pizzas, focaccias and other fare in next to no time - the waiters had trouble keeping up with their production to the point where, if a meal was plated and not distributed fast enough, the chefs took it to the table themselves.

Tomorrow we have an early plane to Ljubljana, capital of Slovenia, leaving Switzerland in the rear view mirror.

Until then.