Week 2: Love and Flames
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"I guess it was kinda like something out of an adventure with Indiana Jones or James Bond," I replied with a chuckle to Rory and Joan, a couple hailing from a small town north of Brisbane, Australia. Both were savoring the last hours of a long holiday hopping around Europe, their last stop being a day and a half in Barcelona before a long journey back to the Land Down Unda'. They were perfect company, lively storytellers, an appetite for one more crisp beer, full of cheer and warmth. After trading introductions and a reasonable amount of small talk, Rory asked, "So what brings you here anyway mate? Nasty goings in the city at the moment. You know what's up?"
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Hours ago I was at the Basilica de Santa Maria del Mar, a jewel of a structure squeezed into a compact section of town called the Ribera near the shores of the Mediterranean in Barcelona's Old City. While the facade is difficult to appreciate being wedged so closely to the adjacent buildings, the interior is something to marvel at. It certainly tops Barcelona Cathedral: towering columns, simply cut gray stone, ornate chandeliers, dazzling stain glass that allows ample sunlight to illuminate the capacious floor with a collage of bright colors. In a side chamber usually suited for a small altar or shrine was a curious art installation: a statue of Saint Ignatius sitting on a bench alone, gazing pensively towards the middle of the basilica with hands upturned and arms resting on his legs. I spent more than a few minutes alone, still, in prayerful contemplation in a nearby pew before exiting out the back and skipping over a few blocks to the Museo de Picasso. The museum’s menu boasts a considerable amount of early sketches, studies, and realist paintings preserved by his father, Jose Ruiz y Blasco, culminating with an extensive collection of Picasso's later cubist paintings inspired by Valesquez's famous Las Meninas. It was a joy to walk through. (Read more about Picasso’s evolution here. It’s quite colorful!)
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Ceiling of the Santa Maria del Mar
Ignatius in Contemplation
(Santa Maria del Mar)
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I was whisked away thinking about the time-bending discombobulated shapes and forms of Picasso’s Velasquez-inspired works when I rounded a corner to head toward the Ramblas. Swiftly approaching from my left down a narrow street was a churning crowd of red, yellow and black, people masked and unmasked, marching, singing and waving the flag of Catalonia. I took a few stuttered steps back in the direction from where I came and set myself to Manhattan-pace with a little extra turbo, hoping the group I saw was a single stream rather than a sea that would soon flood the entire neighborhood.
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There is no telling whether the large group of protesters I encountered were the same agitators that sent shock waves through Barcelona and held the attention of international news the entire week after the sentencing of a group of Catalan politicians to prison for sedition. Tens of thousands of peaceful nationalists, as well as groups of not-so-peaceful nationalists, small but dangerous numbers of hardcore fascists and anarchists, set cars and dumpsters on fire, charged and seriously injured armed squads of police officers, and managed to shut down the city’s airport, El Prat. Why? The backstory is difficult to wrap one’s mind around. Since a week ago last Tuesday I have heard many opinions and versions of historical events, only gaining a basic perspective. Simple questions like, “What does it mean to be Catalan? Spanish? European?” are difficult to answer these days and are near impossible to touch for an American such as myself.
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Nonetheless, I am here, which means as a teacher I had some tiny part to play as these events unfolding near the city center. I shared many conversations with groups of students during the week who to my surprise felt very comfortable opening up about their opinions, hopes and fears. I recall a particularly terse exchange with a young woman who I will name Lina, one of my higher level English students. Before the starting bell when most students are congregated in the hallway for their break I asked Lina how she was feeling and whether she had any strong thoughts about the situation. She paused and then said many things. But this bit stood out to me: “...I am frightened by the videos being watched by people in class of masked men ganging up on others and beating them. I have friends who are for unity who do not go to Sant Ignasi who are threatened by classmates who support Catalan independence. If they come to school tomorrow, they are told they will get hurt. I am tired of it all.” Her demeanor and the expression in her eyes spoke as loudly and clearly as her words. She looked tired and sad and through, a teenager who has had it with the real world and just wants to be a kid. Lina later told me she would most likely not be in school Friday because of the citywide strikes. When I asked Lina why she was striking, she replied, “I’m not missing school because it is my choice. I am missing school because the metro will be closed and the demonstrations make it too dangerous to go from my home to schooll.”
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Ironically, my advanced English speaking students have been exploring the word “love” in class through conversational, listening and writing exercises. When first attempting to define “love,” many wrote the word “feeling” and “emotion” on the chalkboard. When I think of love in the wake of the violence and anger casting a dark pall over Barcelona, I think of love's “defensive” quality. The bother I felt in reaction to Lina's feelings was, I believe, coming from a place of wanting to protect and shield my students from the inferno outside! It was very powerful. I am so impressed by the examples of grace and maturity acted out by the students before me. We all could benefit from looking at the world through the eyes of some of our young voices. They model laughter and honesty and humility and goodness better than anyone!
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A hop and skip later I was telling my story to Rory and Joan, who listened carefully and with concern. Rory turned and held up three fingers to the bartender who was seeing an unexpected rush of visitors this evening likely due to the events unfolding a few blocks away. We sat together for a considerable time learning a little bit about each other, where we've been and what we've experienced, before parting our separate ways wishing each other safe travels.
Sometimes being on the road on your own can quickly turn lonely when something adverse happens close by. But I didn’t feel lonely at all this night, or others for that matter. Barcelona may be muddling through a few dark pages in its story. But love can still be found in the most surprising places: in a bodega or in a painting, in a Cathedral or in a classroom.
"Las Meninas" by Pablo Picasso
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Buen Provecho: Jamon Iberico, Crackers and an Estrella
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Strike: Nearly all of Sant Ignazi's students took Friday off because of the city-wide strike and protests.
