mikeraggett

Amsterdam March 2023, News

Last day – more art and a celebration

Last day of the trip and we decide to eschew the buffet breakfast at Cafe Moer and take our suitcases for a short walk up Overtoom to the Toasty Cafe we’d walked past on Monday’s exploration. Pink grapefruit juice, coffee and croissant and we’re off to the tram stop heading for Leidseplein – getting the hang of direction of travel and so on by now. The trams are very frequent and easy to use. You can buy a transport card or just touch in and out with a credit card or phone. They look quite small from outside with just two coaches but have Tardis-like interiors.

As we walked across Museumplein yesterday, we’d spied a locker storage facility in the Q-Park garage and so our first port of call was here to leave our suitcases knowing we could retrieve them later and get a tram back to Centraal Station from the stop opposite the Concertgebouw. This proved very easy and secure and saved us either trekking back to the hotel or going to the station twice. We had two more museums to tick off before checking in for the return Eurostar jouney at three-thirty. I had been to the Moco in Barcelona at Christmas and so was keen to visit the original in Amsterdam. Their mission is to present modern and contemporary artists in elegant surroundings. In Barcelona the museum occupies the fine old Palacio Cervelló not far from the equally impressive Picasso Museum. In Amsterdam they took over the historic Villa Alsberg next to the Van Gogh Museum. They have a significant number of authenticated Banksy originals and prints, some Yayoi Kusama pumpkins, a couple by Warhol, Basquiat and Keith Haring – and a Damien Hirst. There were also many artworks and video installations which were fascinating to explore. Some left me cold and uncomprehending, others I revelled in. That’s art I guess. One area was devoted to NFTs which despite all attempts I still don’t understand. One artist in the NFT exhibit that really appealed to me was Andres Reisinger whose environmental messages video Arcadia is accompanied by narration and an undulating minimalist music track. It has some phenomenal animation in the visuals and the poetry is very affecting. The room had a mirror wall so seeing ourselves and the video images stretching off into infinity reminded me of walking the great length of Hockney’s Normandy frieze at Saltmills in Bradford a while back. You can see Arcadia on Vimeo and Reisinger, composer RAC and poet Arch Hades talk about making it on YouTube.

Moco museum exterior and stairwell, Banksy’s faceless policemen, Kusama pumpkin, Takashi Murakami X Virgil Abloh sculpture and an animated NFT

Time for lunch now and we decided to take it in the elegant cafe at the Stedelijk Museum which was to be our last port of call on our cultural marathon. The museum is in someways I suppose the Tate Modern to Tate Britain comparison with the Rijksmuseum. The permanent collection is divided into three sections: up to 1950, 1950-80 and 1980 to the present. It’s striking modern entrance hall conceals a fine Victorian edifice from 1895. I guess we might be having art fatigue but I found it the least interesting of our visits although there were still quite a few objects that caught my eye.

Stedelijk Museum exterior, Vanishing Point cotton sculpture by Lenore Towney, El Anatsui’s In the World But Don’t Know the World made from bottle tops and found objects which reminded me of the huge Miro tapestry with umbrellas I’d seen in Barcelona at Christmas and Paul Citroen’s Escher-like Metropolis.

We set off to collect our luggage with Fran nobly fetching mine as well, as I’d omitted to take photos of the museums as I’d originally thought I wouldn’t be writing a blog about this trip. But we’ve had such a good time I just thought I had to share. We board a tram at Concertgebouw and soon arrive at the main station – another impressive building.

Check in at Amsterdam was less good than in London as we were all cooped up for an hour in a small enclosure on Platform 15 with few seats and no food facilities other than a vending machine. Every visit we’ve made this trip has been followed, almost instantly, with a request for feedback. I am very bored with this constant search for meaningless comment and generally disregard them but I did fill in Eurostar’s with my thoughts about the check in arrangements in Amsterdam. The journey itself was impeccable, so much so that at one point I said to Fran that we must be nearing Lille and she replied that we were already in England. We parted at St Pancras with the words ‘See you tomorrow’ since the reason for our return was to attend Thursday’s Gala Dinner for the Watford Community Sports & Education Trust to celebrate 30 years. Can it really be five years ago that I wrote a book for them? The evening was a total delight with many current and former players present as well as many friends and colleagues. We were presented with a substantial book containing the annual impact review and thirty stories from Trust supporters. Fran and I were delighted to find ourselves on adjacent pages.

The evening was made even more special when Fran collected an award for being the Trust’s Fundraising Champion. We then stayed partying until far too late but it was a brilliant culmination of a week celebrating all the things we love – art. music, travel, beer and wine, food, friends and football.

Amsterdam March 2023, News

Culture vultures

So day two of our culture trip dawned with a pleasant buffet breakfast in Cafe Moer and then a twenty-five min ute walk through Vondelpark heading diagonally for the Van Gogh Museum which I’d sensibly prebooked for 11:30, which was of course 10:30 on our body clocks and quite early enough to start the serious part of the day. Vondelpark is a huge green space with lakes and ponds, cycleways and roads and some pedestrian paths but it was our first moment of realising just how profuse and dangerous cyclists are in this city. Add to their sheer numbers the fact that motorised vehicles like scooters and golf buggies also use the cyclepaths and you take your life in your hands every time you cross one. It’s also sometimes difficult to know which is the footpath and which the cycleway.

Vondelpark today and as I saw it with skaters in March 2018.

We arrived slightly early at the Van Gogh Museum to see a sign saying ‘Sold out for today’ so feeling very smug at having booked from the UK in advance, we strolled past the waiting line into the museum. It houses the biggest collection of Van Gogh’s works in the world. We had booked for the special exhibition Choosing Vincent. Portrait of a Family History which made it clear to us why this was the case. Vincent’s sister-in-law was married to Theo for less than two years before he died soon after Vincent. But Jo van Gogh-Bonger and later her son – also Vincent – were largely responsible for promoting Van Gogh’s reputation as a major artist and later establishing the museum which bears his name.

The Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam. Circular entry lobby on the right and the manin collection on the left.

We had time to explore the main collection before and after visiting the fascinating family story which was elegantly curated by getting you to follow a timeline on the floor which led to information panels, personal objects, photographs and paintings. It was staggering to find that at periods of his life he turned out a painting a day. It was also interesting to see how his style varied continually – a carefully painted image with oils thinly applied one day and the next the fervent impastoed brush stokes we generally associate with him. It was then time to head of in search of lunch before the manin event – Vermeer at 14:30. My memory from five years ago failed us so we had quite a roundabout trek to Leidseplein where I remember there being lots of bars. I was shocked when we did get there that so many are now chain operations rather than the local bars I recalled. However we found a very pleasant bar-restaurant under the Casino called Grand Cafe Lido in tribute to its predecessor which had been a landmark in the area since 1937. We had a canalside table (indoors), good beer and food and lots of boating and bird activity on the Singel or Leidsegracht canal (not sure what it’s called at this point).

Our rather damp entry to the Vermeer exhibition at the Rijksmuseum.

But it was well worth it. Again with prebooked tickets we breezed in deposited coats and bag and entered the intimate worlds created by Johannes Vermeer. Having said that, the first thing we see is a View of Delft and Little Street both of which are exterior views of aspects of life in the city. The degree of detail in the characters in each picture is remarkable. You can almost hear the conversations.

The whole exhibition just grew from this simple start. Paintings were elegantly displayed against the dark grey walls. Captions were clear and available from a QR code on my phone and the 28 paintinbgs were all well spaced so although the exhibition is a complete sell out you didn’t feel unduly crowded and had ample time to look at each painting. The most exciting innovation for us was the semicircular barrier at just below waist height around the majority of paintings which meant you could wait briefly for your turn to be one of the six people in the front line with an uninterrupted view. As we moved around it was fascinating to see how the same window, ther same model, the same yellow, fur-edged jacket, a globe and other props from his studio cropped up time and again. It seems that after that early blast of the outdoors he shut himself in his studio and just painted there. One aspect of his work I thought I knew was that subjects were always lit from the left. Quite a shock then to find three lit from the right: Girl with a red hat, Girl with a flute and The Lacemaker.

We took our time and wandered hither and yon, sometimes together sometimes not until we met up the the last room but as we prepared to leave we asked each other ‘Did you see her?” ‘No,’ was the response. We knew the Girl with the Pearl Earring was going back to its usual home the Maritshuis in the hague on 30 March but she should be here still. We retraced our steps, enquired of a guide and did get to admire perhaps, thanks to Tracy Chevalier, his most famous work. And very wonderful it is too. I have been reluctant of late to buy art exhibition catalogues but this was one I had to have and a fine exploration of his work it is. Reproductions of all the paintings but also lots of small detailed views to explore Vermeer’s technique. Many of the paintings were worked on for a lengthy period with evidence of recomposing them with overpainting revealed by x-ray analysis. Worth the trip to Amsterdam? Absolutely and there’s more to come.

As we went down the stairs to the loos at the exit from the exhibition, I noticed white fluffy things whooshing down from ornately plastered ceiling. It was a great installation and from the information desk we managed to elicit that it was by Studio Drift. The web confirmed that it’s called Shylight and there’s a fascinating video of it on their website and on YouTube.

We now had a couple of hours to pass before gpoing to the Concertgebouw for a concert at 8.15 pm. As that would not finish until well after ten, we thought eating first might be a good idea. I remembered finding a great bar to the southwest of the concert hall so we set off in that general direction and happened across a very suitable place. It wasn’t the one I remembered from my last trip – I later discovered that Brasserie van Dam was just one block further west. However the Eetcafé Schotsheuvel did us very well. It was pretty empty when we arrived and we had a beer wondering whether to just have the one and move on before finally deciding to stay and eat. The staff were friendly and became increasingly busy as by the time we left to head back to our concert, the place was heaving with locals – always a good sign. Extremely tasty crab cakes and fries with garlic mayo and a substantial pork rib and a decent bottle of wine saw the time fly by and our decision to stay well justified.

We make our way back to the Concertgebouw and settle into sided balcony seats with a good view of the stage. The concedrt is given by the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra which came to major international prominence under Simon Rattle who joined it in 1980 when he was just 25 and made it into a world renowned orchestra during his 18 years as music director. Tonight the baton is in the hands of the young Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla the Lithuanian conductor who became MD at the CBSO in 2016 at the age of 20. So what we were about to hear could be called ‘Simon Rattle’s Tyla-made Army’. Watford fans groan, others ask for an explanation in the comments!

*Concert-Gebouw exterior with excellent gold harp on the roof*

*Julia Hagen with cello and Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla descending theperilous steps to get to the podium*

The concert started with a piece I’d never heard of by Mieczysław Weinberg who was described as Polish-Russian and died in 1996. It was his Sinfonietta No.1 and was a rousing big orchestra number with loads of percussion – a big night for the glockenspiel and tambourine man – vast swathes of brass interspersed with lyrical folk tunes in the strings. It was 20 enjoyable minutes and had something of a film score feel to it. This was followed by the Shostakovich cello concert played by Julia Hagen a rising star according to the Citizens of Beethoven who awarded her the Beethoven Ring for 2022 and others. When I read she plays a cello made in Cremona in 1684, I was fearful of a trip on the lengthy flight of stairs conductor and soloists must use to make a grand applause-filled entrance. It was very well done and conductor and soloist clearly had a strong rapport. At the interval we went out into the bar and picked up a glass of wine at no charge. As Fran pointed out, it means they can get through the interval drinks dispense much more quickly when they are not faffing about with payments. We sat with two Dutch gentlemen who inevitably asked how we were enjoying Brexit. ‘Not!’ was our emphatic reply. They smiled wryly.

The second part of the concert was Prokoviev’s suite from the ballet Romeo and Juliet. It’s a work I know and love and I don’t think I’ve heard it played better than under Grazintye-Tyla here in Amsterdam. So many earworms from the dance of the Montagues and Capulets to the plaintive tune for the young Juliet – I’m still humming it now. After massive rounds of standing ovations we left the hall and knowing our hotel was in a street called Overtoom we boarded – at my insistence – a tram that said it stopped at Overtoom. Only it stopped at the wrong end and Google maps said we were 20 minutes walk from the hotel. I now know that Overtoom is straight as a die for slightly over 1.5 kilometres. So we walked back to the Rijksmuseum and the tram stop at Leidseplein and took the correct tram this time which left us with a mere six minutes walk to the hotel. Moral – swot up on the tram map before you dash onto the first one you see. So an amazing day of varied culture came to an end with a rewarding last glass of wine to round it off.

Amsterdam March 2023, News

Culture trip – setting off

Monday 20 March 5 am! Is this wise? Wearily into the shower, check small suitcase and lock up the house and set off to catch the 05:59 from Lee to London Bridge and thence to St Pancras. On arrival I’m just about to WhatsApp ‘I’m here’ when Frances appears beside me. We then move to the Eurostar check in line. This ridiculous hour is because they suggest you check in 90 minutes before the scheduled departure – in our case 08:16. The check in process is simple with the exception that I have to go through the scanner twice because it detected my house keys in my jeans pocket – but not my trusty Swiss Army knife! Security! Fortified with coffee and croissant we board the train and set off for a three day trip to hoover up culture in Amsterdam. This was in response to a random comment by me in the pub before the Reading game on 4 February along the lines of: ‘There’s this once in a lifetime exhibition of 28 of Vermeer’s known 37 paintings at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. I‘m going. Anyone else?’ After several attempts to sort out mutually acceptable arrangements in transpired that just Fran and I (oh the joys of retirement) were able to make it. So off we go.

The journey was direct to Amsterdam – last time I had to change in Brussels. It takes just about four hours and we arrived in a rather damp Amsterdam Centraal Station a little after one o’clock. Time for a beer rather than taking the tram straight to the hotel. So we set off across the canal down a street towards Dam Square where I have previously found suitable quaffing locations.

Before long – rejecting all the chain places on the main streets we found the delightful Kadinsky (sic -not named after the painter) in Langebrugsteeg just around the corner from Dam Square and the Royal Palace. Affligem Blond was exactly to Fran’s taste and the regular suited me just fine. We accompanied the second with a very tasty ham and cheese toastie. Observing people coming and going from the shop opposite it became clear that this was a cannabis bar – we didn’t partake. Then finally with the rain abating a little we set off to take a tram to the hotel which was south west of the centre near Vondelpark one of the city’s several big open areas. Last time I was here in 2018 I’d seen people skating on one of the lakes in the park.

Like so many other cities, Amsterdam is a complete mess of diggers, holes in the road, muddy pavements and ‘tram stop not in operation’ signs. So we had a bit of a trek to find a stop for the number 17 to Surinamplein which deposited us a five minute walk from the hotel. Only later in the Stedelik Museum did the significance of Suriname become clear. The hotel was part of a Eurostar package but looked OK on the website. Being greeted at the main entrance by chaps carrying plasterboard to to their van wasn’t the best start.

A sign indicated their apologies that the foyer was being refurbished and that the ‘VIP’ entrance (Dutch sense of humour) was round the corner right and right. Easy enough and check in was conducted by a pleasant enough chap. The the challenge began. Take the lift to floor one in this Tower B go through the door and turn left along a safari route all the while admiring the Conscious Hotel Group’s green roof. They are also very eco conscious in every other aspect which was no bad thing. I could even scan a QR code to say ‘Don’t bother to clean my room’ with its promise of environmental benefits and that they would plant a tree. But that was after reaching the room – something still to be achieved. The walkway led to Tower A where another lift took us to the fifth floor and two similar and very clean, neat and pleasant rooms with huge comfortable beds.

We each took a few moments to unpack and sort ourselves out and then went to find an early evening beer as we were due to meet the agent who sends me occasional paid work from the Netherlands for dinner. We hadn’t seen each other for five or six years and Annemarie and her husband Alan were driving up from Utrecht to meet us at Cafe Moer – a vegan joint also owned by the Conscious Hotel. We were on a very long street called Overtoom where there were few open options. It seems a lot of places close for several hours after three o’clock and open again around five or six. Off the main road in a side street we did find a thriving local with a raucous group playing pool, a pair sharing the cares of the world with each other and good beer and free crisps. One elderly gent sitting in a window seat looked enviously at the bowl in front of us, but when we offered him our cheesy waffles they were not to his taste and he demanded – and got – proper crisps from the genial landlady. Just time for one and then back to the hotel to get ready for dinner at 6.30.

Annemarie is Dutch and married to Alan who is from Croydon and a Crystal Palace fan. But neither of us had a lot to say about football given this season for both clubs. We did talk a bit about the work of Watford’s chairty the Community Sports & Eductaion Trust and I promised to try to send them a copy of the book I wrote for the 25th Anniversary which would show them the scope of the charitable work. We had a very lively evening with acceptable if not gourmet, vegan dishes, good beers and a more than passable German red wine which can’t have been too bad as Fran and I did another bottle after Alan and Annemarie had left to get back home to relive her father of their 13-year-old. They were both great company and I refrained from talking too boringly about work! So a first day – rather a long one – came to an end and a good night’s, much needed, sleep ensued.

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Last day observations

Despite not being in the best of health throughout, it has been a great stay in this wonderful city. I’ve visited familiar places and several new ones, heard great music and seen amazing art. I need to catch a train from Passeig de Gracia around 14:30 to get to the airport in good time for security and check in so decide to forgo further wide exploration today and walk about other part of the Eixample. Apart from the Berasategui restaurants, there are other reasons to come back – I didn’t do the ‘immersive Dali experience’ at IDEAL, the Digital arts Centre, I didn’t get to the European Museum of Modern Art and of course I’d love to go to the Liceu Opera house again to hear something to my taste performed.

One of the things I love are elegant shop signs from the golden age. Dee had an obsession with door knobs and knockers, mine is with shopfronts. Dee also loved hat shops so there’s one here for her! I collected a few more this morning as I strolled the nearby streets. It’s a little more cloudy today but still pleasantly warm although down a bit from yesterday’s 22 degrees (that’s 72 Daisy).

I also snapped a few more of the elegant houses that jump out from the streets at regular intervals. It’s a city where you need to be sure to look up as you walk through the streets.

But I needed to look down at the top of the Passeig as I came across this excellent manifesto which is something that as a sort of creative I feel very strongly about. It’s set in the pavement outside a Barcelona city office.

Just round the corner at the Palau Robert a poster for an exhibition reminded me of a day in the spring when Frances, Rosa and I went to see Pedro Almodovar’s Parallel Mothers. Alongside the usual convoluted emotional stories of two women, he finally addresses the horrors of the Franco era. The film involves a search for the body of a great grandfather in a mass grave. The poster examines 85 years of trying to reunite families with lost relatives. So far of the 114,000 ‘disappeared’ only 19,000 have been recovered. As Almodovar said in a Guardian interview, ‘Now is the time to remember Franco lest his victims be forgotten’.

Inside the Palau is a much happier image – Barca’s first heroes. There are displays of other sports – boxing and motor sport very popular – and fashion during the early part of the 20th century. This is the 1919-20 season team that won the Catalunya championship as well as that of all Spain. The caption claims that the 20s was the decade when football became a mass popular sport.

Sipping a last beer before boarding the train I noted that at none of the bars I’d been to had I been offered the little complimentary dish of olives, crisps or nuts that had been common on previous trips. Now whether this is a factor of the cost of living crisis or just a metropolitan thing I’m not sure. Certainly the news programmes were filled with analysis of the government’s crisis measures – reducing VAT on food staples, capping fuel prices and handouts of 200 euros to those most in need as well as some measures to encourage businesses to recover. I didn’t find Barcelona quite as depressing as London from the point of view of rough sleepers and boarded up shops – but I was in a rather posh part of the city for most of my trip. And as I descended to the train station my last view was of Gaudi’s brilliant Casa Mila known as La Pedrera (the stone quarry). It was his final civic architecture before devoting his life to the Sagrada Familia. A fitting end to an excellent week in this great city.

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A day on Montjuic

I so enjoyed my visit to Miro’s studio in Mallorca last year that I decided to visit the Fundacio Miro in Barcelona. It’s situated up on Montjuïc the mountain where the Olympic Park was in 1992 and which continues to be a tourist attraction. Three stops on the Metro to Parallel and the the Funicular up to Montjuic.

It was a disappointing trip compared with the ones in Bilbao, Budapest and San Sebastián in that it’s almost entirely in a tunnel with just occasional sights of scrappy play areas and none of the vistaS across the city I was hoping for. However, a few steps from the top of the funicular, my wish was granted with this view dominated by the magnificent Sagrada Familia.

On the way to the Miro Foundation was a sculpture garden with some of the worst signage I’ve ever come across – tiny aluminium stakes with titles engraved – totally illegible. At Miro, things were handled much better. There is a huge collection of paintings, sculptures, tapestries and found objects displayed in spacious galleries. I’m glad I’d been to the studio in Mallorca to get an idea of Miro’s working methods. It’s also good to see that artists who choose to follow a different kind of visual vocabulary are well grounded in basic draughtsmanship.

Exterior, an early portrait and two more typical Miro painted works.

I particularly love his amusing sculptures from everyday objects. As a not-very-royalists person I was much taken by King, Queen and Prince (below right), the huge (nearly 6 metres across) Sobreteixim with eight umbrellas and the dramatic use of a coat hanger.

Another artist provides a fascinating object here. Alexander Calder was the only non-Spaniard invited to contribute to Spain’s pavilion at the 1937 Paris World Exhibition. Alongside several Miro canvases, Picasso’s Guernica, Calder’s Mercury Fountain was seen as a further protest against the atrocities of the Franco regime including the attack at Almaden the town that provided a substantial quantity of the world’s mercury. Calder donated the sculpture to the Miro Foundation and we view it from behind a glass screen since the toxicity of mercury has been discovered. Funny thing is the Egyptians knew about mercury too and thought it chased away evil spirits – may have killed some of them too.

I had a coffee in the cafe before continuing my walk along Montjuic. I was heading inexorably to the National Art Museum of Catalunya, which I had told myself I wasn’t going to bother with on this trip. I remembered, bothwith the children ages ago, and with Dee more recently standing on its terrace on a Friday evening eagerly awaiting the magic fountain’s display. No use waiting for it on Wednesday afternoon. I do remember it as quite spectacular with water jets synchronised to different music genres at different times and changing colour appropriately. Looking down at it brought back good memories. I then thought ‘Well I’m here, it’s free with the Barcelona card so why not?’.

Looking down towards the magic fountain and the National Gallery.

The majestic central dome covered an area in which there were easels for wannabe artists and a fabulous soft play area with kids swarming all over. If that what it takes to get folk in and keep galleries alive, I’m all for it.

I decide to eschew the old masters which I have seen before and head for the modern floor upstairs. Neatly divided into four areas it shows the development of Catalan art from the turn of the century to the present day. In the very first gallery devoted to modernisme, what did I see but the actual dining table Gaudi had designed for Casa Battlo.? There were lots of beautiful wooden, glass and metal objects in that fluid style.

As I progressed through the galleries I saw works by familiar names like Rusinol, Sorolla and Picasso. I was especially taken by a cunning Rusinol self portrait. Look carefully!

In the next room I was introduced to the work of a female photographer Mey Rahola who shared a love of sailing and photography with our friend Joe Weiler in Boston. She was lucky to be around at a period 1934-36 when it was OK for a woman to engage in such pursuits. The Civil War put and end to that as she went into exile in France but had developed her own documentary style and continued to take photographs professional during the Second World War.

A new set of rooms for 2022 are devoted to the art of the Civil War period and range from propaganda posters, depictions of the horrors of war reminiscent of Goya – one wall of etchings reminded me of Los Caprichos. It’s interesting to see how Spain is re-evaluating the whole period that was so traumatic for so many. When I raised the refugee elements in Isabel Allende’s book with Rosa and Pepita over lunch Pepita didn’t really want to discuss it as, although born after the end of the war, so much of her childhood and early years were shaped by it. One of Rosa’s video installations Lost was on the subject of babies stolen by the church during the Franco period. It casts a long shadow.

Memories of Goya – a series of etchings and *Mass execution in the bullring at Badajoz* which reminded me of his famous *Third of May.*

Enough gloom. Back out into the sunlight of Montjuïc and a walk through the Botanic Garden towards the Olympic Stadium where a convenient bus arrived and took me back to the funicular. A little later a further trip to the Cerveseria rounded off a thoroughly enjoyable day up above the city.

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Ancient and modern

My children returned from a trip to Egypt raving about it and insisting it be added to the bucket list. When I mentioned this at lunch on Boxing Day, Pepita and Rosa who had both been and loved it, suggested I visit the Museu Egipci in Barcelona. My visit to the Sagrada Familia was booked for 14:30 so what better way to spend the morning? Also it was directly along Calle Valencia a left turn out of the hotel. It proved very rewarding. As all had said, the time zones are astounding. Craft, writing, tools of such complexity 3000 years BCE do blow the mind. Yes some of the names are familiar – Rameses, Ptolemy, Cleopatra, Tutankhamen – but how do they relate? The museum is small, on three floors of a town house, but highly informative with several modern x-rays conducted with Imperial College in London and others to analyse what had been collected over the years, by Howard Carter among others. These showed levels of skill that are mind-blowing given the eras involved. Quite a civilisation! Bucket list duly updated.

The entrance, their prize mummy from 2300 BCE, a fabulous model corncrake, limestone relief of Ramses II, an early castanet, necklace in lapis and gold from 1500 BCE and the most magnificent carving of a (supposed) God – because of its quality.

I headed off along Calle Valencia in the belief that this would bring Me to, or close to the Sagrada Familia. To my delight I found another local market on the way and decided to have an early lunch as everywhere near the basilica would charge a premium. I’m not entirely a cheapskate but don’t like being ripped off. I had a very fine fish soup with pan con tomate and was equipped to revisit the icon of Barcelona after a good many years. I first came when the children were young and we could roam among the half constructed towers, then later with Dee while they were still hoping for investment to finish it, probably ten years ago. As a deeply religious man, Gaudi would probably appreciate my OMG reaction on stepping inside. The nave is finished – it’s not open to the sky any more. The stained glass is all in place and it looks magnificent. Only once back outside do you see the tell-tale crane and realise that some of the towers are still to be finished. But they say it’s on track for 2025 only 135 years after the foundation stone was laid.

Various aspects of the interior, a recreation of Gaudi’s workplace in the crypt and a portrait bust of the great man.

The exterior is equally brilliant with enough religious and natural symbolism to fill several volumes – available in the shop of course. But here are some of my favourite elements.

Having walked all the way there, I took the Metro back to Passeig de Gracia, put my feet up for a while in the hotel and then headed out to the Gastropub Obama – yes really – for a light supper. Claims to be British American but the most prominent beer on offer is Guinness. It was fun but the Cerveseria Catalana gets my vote for the best place in the area.

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Nadal i Sant Esteve

Christmas Day was always planned as a quiet one. I needed to give my feet a rest so began the day with a leisurely buffet breakfast in the hotel for the first time (not included and cheaper on the Rambla!). A little light blogging, music and reading saw the morning whizz by. I decided to take a brief stroll around the neighbourhood finding a pretty passageway with orange trees – the mind turns to marmalade making in a month or so. There were a large number of other splendid examples of modernisme architecture – there were even plaques on the pavement showing on was on the correct route.

I’d been debating spending quite a lot of money on a meal at one of the two restaurants run by Martin Berasategui. Dee and I had a memorable meal in 2016 in San Sebastián at his original place. However I walked by them, looked online and Lasarte (3 Michelin stars) isn’t open until Thursday when I leave and Oria (just the one so far) on its site, won’t let me book for fewer than four people. My appetite is not that great at the moment so maybe I’ll leave it for another trip.

Boxing Day was all set up for a trip into the countryside to join Rosa and her mother Pepita for lunch. We’d agreed that I’d catch the 11:51 from Passeig de Gracia. I made an small error – I thought the Metro and train stations were connected – they are not – so I walk briskly to the train station three blocks up the Passeig. As I reach the platform the clock says 11:51 and there’s a train there so I jump on. After ten minutes it stops at Estacio de Franca which I think is jus a pause at a major calling point. After another ten minutes I investigate and find the train is at the buffers and I have to take the next one back to Passeig de Gracia and then get the 12:51 to Sils where Rosa will collect me. Quick WhatsApp to confirm late running and we’re underway again. We rendezvous OK and go to the lovely Terme Orion where Rosa and Pepita have spent the last three days relaxing after a flurry of family activity. My Spanish is a bit more relaxed this year and we are able to have a reasonable conversation with only occasional translating duties for Rosa. Food was great, wine all included and they wouldn’t let me contribute anything. A lovely afternoon – if a little shorter than planned.

Sils station and the Terme Orion in Coloma de Farners

Rosa and her mum are heading back home to Terrassa and fortunately Sils is on the way so they drop me off with twenty minutes to wait for a train that will categorically got me to the Passeig de Gracia – albeit ten minutes later than promised. It’ll be a bit tight to get to my Sant Esteve concert but more brisk walking to the Palau gets me there in time to hear the applause for the conductor coming on stage – from outside the door. They won’t let me in for ten minutes so I miss the first three items in full glory.

When I do get in I find that my seat is high up in the gods with only a partial view – I think I asked for ‘best available’ and it was certainly a sell out. In keeping with its Orfeo Catalana label, the only instruments were a piano, the giant organ and a trumpeter while there were choirs ranging from the junior and middle childrens’ choirs to the professional choirs of the Palau. There were some familiar carols – Silent Night, Little Town of Bethlehem and a Catalan one I’d heard at a concert by Pegasus the choir my son sings with back in London – Fum, fum, fum. It was a spectacular event full of joy and tradition and I think at one point there must have been close to a thousand voices on the stage and in the galleries on either side. Fantastic!

As an encore we had a rousing version of the Hallelujah Chorus which culminated in a flurry of unfurling of Catalan flags and shouts of ‘Independencia!’ It seems the prime minister has ruled out another referendum but there are general elections in May so it’ll be interesting to see what happens then.

I had a voucher for three euros so decided to have a glass of wine and send friends and family my reactions to the concert via WhatsApp What a great end to a great Christmas. As I walked back to the hotel I was struck by the variety of lights on each street – much less showy than London but original and (sorry) delightful. Here’s a selection.

Palau de la Musica, Passeig de Gracia, Rambla de Catalonia, Plaza de Catalunya, Gran Via des Cortes Catalans.

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Music, markets and Moritz

I’ve managed to do a few things I wanted to experience while in Barcelona but a combination of occasional hip gyp (osteoarthritis quite advanced) and less breath from the lingering flu, I’ve not been roaring about the place as I maybe would have in the past. I love the fact that the city is so well supplied with benches so I can sit and take a rest when necessary. Isabel Allende has a fine quote in her book I just read A Long Petal of the Sea: ‘Pain is unavoidable, suffering is optional’. As I set out on Christmas Eve to enjoy the guided tour of the Palau de la Musica, I was able to have a coffee, perch on a bench and contemplate life at a slower pace.

Benches and cafes on the Rambla de Catalunya.

It also gives me a chance to look around and see elegant buildings like this. There have been some rather (imho) unsuitable replacements and refurbishments to the classy streets of the Eixample, the area into which the wealthy of the city expanded in the early twentieth century with its grid of vertical and horizontal streets so it’s hard to get lost. Enough rambling – on to the Palau.

At the Palau, I join a group of two Americans, one Hungarian and eight Chinese – probably statistically representative of relative populations. Our guide is Marta who is Catalan and a pianist with the organisation who also used to play cello but gave it up as too difficult. As often, the tour begins with a ten minute video of the history and diverse nature of music played at the hall – Montserrat Caballe and Pablo Casals of course but also Ute Lemper and Herbie Hancock. Marta returns and asks if any of us has ever been so I can show off with my attendance two nights ago. I can also answer her enquiry as to whether anyone knows the architect. I do – it was Lluis Domenech i Muntaner, another of the famous group of modernista artists, which included Gaudi. Together they designed the Catalan equivalent of art nouveau or Jugendstil elsewhere in Europe. What I couldn’t answer was how long it took to build – a staggering two and a half years. My guess would have been ten. There were obviously lots of wealthy merchants investing their profits from the Americas in a cultural centre of some magnificence in Barcelona.

A ticket window, roof detail and the main entrances wide and high enough for horse-drawn carriages to enter.

The interior is just breathtaking. Every surface is decorated with trencadis, there are thousands of plaster roses – the flower of Catalunya – and sculpture and plasterwork of great significance. There are lots of red and white cross flags which are familiar in England especially around football tournaments. St Jordi (George) is the patron saint of Catalunya too. Lluis certainly thought about what he was building. Alongside the name of the Palau are the words Orfeo Catalana reflecting the origins of the hall as a place for choirs to practice and sing – well they couldn’t watch Strictly or The Voice so they had – and still have – lots of local choirs. I’m hoping to see some of them at the special Sant Esteve (Boxing Day) concert which is said by some I’ve spoken to to rival New Year’s Day in Vienna. As with the exterior a few photos won’t do the venue justice but let’s just say a bust of Beethoven surmounted by horse-riding Valkyries on one side of the stage and sculptures of all the muses behind the performers on stage make this a very special place. The glass sunburst at the centre of the ceiling which allows natural light through is a masterpiece of both design and engineering.

Some of the muses and another flying horse.

After a coffee in the cafeteria, I set off through the old city centre towards the cathedral – I’ve never seen it without works going on, maybe one day. Then I just have to stop for a beer in Plaza Reial a long-time favourite. One of the limited advantages of travelling alone is that I’m doing far more reading than usual. Instead of chatting over a beer, out comes the kindle. So far I’ve read William Boyd’s rambunctious The Romantic in which we meet Byron in Italy and discover the source of the Nile. This was followed by Kate Atkinson’s fabulous Shrines of Gaiety featuring the dodgy world of nightclubs in interwar London. And as mentioned before, Isabel Allende’s epic Long Petal of the Sea which begins with the horrors of the Spanish Civil War in Catalunya and escape to France and from there to new lives in Chile only to become involved in another coup there. And now I’m enjoying Hotel Iris by Yoko Ogawa – another tantalising excursion into the strange world of Japanese fiction. And the Mcs are lined up next Ian McEwan and two from Cormac McCarthy.

From here it’s a short step along the Rambla to the Liceu opera house which sadly had nothing I wanted to see this trip and then for a walk through the fabulous Boqueria market. I’ve probably rambled on about my love of local markets and my regrets at living in a hotel – maybe an apartment next time. The colour, the noise, the camaraderie of the market is infectious. No room at the market bars though so I found a small bar in a side street for some gambas al ajillo and esparragos.

El Liceu, entrance to and interior of the Boqueria market.

I have another short stroll to my next destination MACBA the museum of contemporary art in Barcelona. It’s new to me although it opened in 1995 so we must have missed it on previous trips. It’s a great white palace with a warning to watch out for skateboarders on the approach – what is it about art centres and skaters? One attractive aspect is that it has slopes not steps to link the various levels – reminding me a bit of the XXI gallery in Rome I visited in 2017. My appreciation of cutting-edge contemporary artwork is somewhat unrefined but I found two of the artists exhibiting here quite affecting. The Colombian Maria Teresa Hinchcapie which involved performance art, exploration of every day objects and photography gave me plenty to think about. Cynthia Marcelle is a Brazilian artist who had given a number of collaborators some materials to arrange as they wished. The result reminded me of a Cornelia Parker explosion of objects. There was another exhibit based on a Mexican Mixe myth which I found impressive in scale and impenetrable in meaning.

MACBA exterior, Hinchcapie video, Mixe myth and Marcelle room.

In the permanent collection were a number of pieces I really enjoyed – a Tapies bed and a series of pages taken from a book as if they had been typed without a ribbon so that light projected the text onto the wall. It’s by Mar Arza and is called Nada reiterada (nothing repeated). Most enjoyable for a bibliophile.

The evening was rounded off in a convenient microbrewery Moritz opposite the hotel which was one of the few places open on Christmas Eve. It has a fine selection of house beers – lagers, IPAs a red IPA and a porter style Moritz Negra (black beer). Oh and it had a perfectly fine food menu too.

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Culture magpie

So Friday morning begins with a trip to El Corte Ingles to secure a USB to lightning cable. I don’t think I’ve ever been to Spain without at some point setting foot in the country’s prime department store. It delivered what I needed on the seventh floor – escalators all the way I’m pleased to say. Next on the agenda was to follow the advice given me on Wednesday evening and book a guided tour of the Palau de la Musica Catalana – all sorted for 11:30 tomorrow.

Next stop the Museu Picasso Barcelona – also free with Barca Card but they make you get a paper ticket from the box office as well. I’ve been here a couple of times before and while there’s always a good selection of Picasso’s paintings, prints and ceramics there is a major exhibition as well. This one is devoted to David-Henry Kahnweiler the German born dealer, collector and patron who did much to launch the careers of Picasso, Braque and Juan Gris.

Kahnweiler was quick to spot the movement that would become cubism and established a tiny gallery (four square metres) at the age of 23 where he exhibited early works by the then unknown Picasso, Braque, Leger, van Dongen and Vlaminck. He was friends with all of them and made good sales to kickstart their careers. As a German he had to go into exile in Switzerland during the First World War. He was considered an alien and his entire collection was sold by the French authorities in auctions at the Hotel Drouot. The sale catalogues make for interesting reading and a comprehensive listing of early twentieth century art.

Picasso sketching Kahnweiler, one of the photos in the exhibition.

There were works by many of his protégés and details of weekly soirées at Bourgogne-Billancourt where he entertained artists and potential purchasers. Picasso once wrote, ‘Where would we all be without Kahnweiler’s sense of business?’ I found it all fascinating, so much so that I took no photos – sorry. That is until I came to the huge room devoted to Picasso’s deconstruction of Velazquez’s Las Meninas. He made a series of over 50 paintings in which he analysed and recreated aspects of the famous work. This is my favourite. I love his self-portrait at the bottom right and the dog and the use of many images of his familiar iconography that find no place in the original.

After nearly three hours it’s time for some lunch. Everywhere in this area – the Born – will be expensive as it’s a major tourist attraction. However I find a corner in a popular venue and emerge refreshed. The Messi shirt shows that Argentina’s captain is still much loved in Barca. I was also surprised to find a flight of Japanese kites in an adjacent courtyard.

A few metres along Calle Moncada is a Museum new to me – MOCO. It has a branch in Amsterdam and opened in Barcelona in 2016 and I haven’t been here since before then. It’s devoted to MOdern/COntemporary artworks and features Keith Haring, Julien Opie, Damien Hirst, Dali and Banksy as well as less familiar local names. I did take a few photos here.

Dali, Banksy and a three layer asynchronous animated video wall that took my fancy.

As I’m quite a way down in the old part of the city I think it’s time to see the sea – well at least Barcelona harbour. As it’s Christmas time there are lots of tacky amusements on offer spoiling (for curmudgeonly me) a stroll along the waterfront. But there are some highlights. Graphics have always been wacky here since the Olympics, there’s always one seagull that won’t conform and I enjoyed the peace of the sun going down across the harbour looking out to the World Trade Centre where we filmed material for a promotional video for the Direct English franchise several years ago. All of course under the watchful gaze of Cristobal Colon.

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Tapas and Tapies

So refreshed with my tapas in the Cerveseria Catalana and buzzing with my visit to Casa Battlo, I thought it was time for a bit more art exploration.

As I came from the station to the hotel on my arrival I had walked past this fine building with its wild bird’s nest hair. It’s the Antoni Tapies Foundation. I’ve seen Tapies’ work in other galleries but thought I’d take a look. Entry was free with my trusty Barcelona card so even more incentive. There were two exhibitions – one showing Tapies’ increasing use of varnish to affect the outcome, the other to Bruce Conner of whom I confess. I had not heard.

My first surprise was that although the building looked like it would be a gallery, I had to descend a flight of stairs to get to the subterranean exhibition space. Excavating basements may be popular in London now among the wealthy, but Barcelona has clearly been doing it for ages. As well as this space, I’ve walked past loads of Parkings with precipitous descents to way-below-street garages – glad I didn’t rent a car this trip as entrances are frighteningly narrow as well and I did recall wedging a Transit van on the way into a car park right beside the Callao metro station in Madrid while on a shoot there some years ago.

The Tapies space itself was light and airy with a suitably small number of paintings and objects displayed. They covered 30 years of his work from 1958 when he was awarded the Carnegie medal for painting, to 1988. I liked in particular his surrealistic deconstructed chair and several of the sinuous marks he’d made with painting and overlaid varnish. And of course there’s always the coarse one – he had a thing about the black letter X. Have a look.

The other exhibit a further floor below was of work by Bruce Conner who’d escaped me but according to the descriptions on the wall was ‘the father of the video clip’. There were nine films in all ranging from three to fifteen minutes. The first was a horrific observation of the Bikini Atoll atomic bomb test, the next a sequence-shifting report on the assassination of JFK. Others were lighter – a piece called Looking for Mushrooms with music by Terry Riley,a noted consumer of same, so was all kaleidoscopic, psychedelic monochrome magic. Others used animation and effects considerably ahead of his time. I’m not always a big fan of video installations as art but these were eye-opening and thought-provoking. They also covered the period 1958 to 1976.

I stopped off at a supermarket on the way back to lay in beer, wine and brandy for the week ahead. Dee and I always liked a drink in our room to gather ourselves before going out to eat and old habits die hard. As I started writing the first blog I realised that I’d forgotten to bring the charger for the iPad mini on which I write, so scribbling would have to wait for tomorrow. So I got to my fine pigs’ cheeks a little earlier than might have been.