My flight home from Barcelona the other day was remarkable for two reasons. For one, I had a window seat; and for two, the earth below was visible almost every mile of the way. Here’s the story of a journey.
Oh, and here’s an eleventh photo, from terra firma: alongside the (static) travelator at Manchester Airport.
… comes from the Museu Blau – the Museu de Ciènces Naturals de Barcelona. It’s not on the tourist trail, so it was blissfully empty. I took lots of photos with my camera, but I can’t download them till I get back to England, so here is the last from my phone: a selection of shells.
For Brian’s Last on the Card.
Everybody knows that Antoni Gaudí’s La Sagrada Familia is the oldest new church in (probably) the world. Begun in 1882, it may finally be finished in 2026. Promises, promises. It’s certainly been burgeoning for years.
The header photo, taken from the flat where Emily’s partner Miquel once lived shows how this monumental edifice dominates the skyline in a city where so many modern buildings scrape the sky.
For Becky’s #SquaresRenew
A few shots from our recent stay: only one is from Barcelona. It’s not hard to tell which one.
For Debbie’s One Word Sunday.
Most of us living in Britain know something about the model villages built by philanthropic industrialists in the 19th century. With the advent of the Industrial Revolution, workers poured in from the countryside to a filthy urban environment. They found, alongside work for long hours in the newly-established factories, hastily built, crowded, poor quality housing with no facilities.
Some philanthropic factory owners decided to do things differently. Robert Owen built New Lanark for his miners. Titus Salt built Saltaire near Bradford for his textile workers. William Lever, 1st Viscount Leverhulme built Port Sunlight for his soap workers. And so on. All these communities offered decent, usually terraced housing with a small amount of outside space. There was a shop, a school, an institute for adult learners, a health-care facility of some kind, certainly a church. There was not however, a pub, or anywhere where alcohol was sold. Workers at the time often drowned out the reality of their miserable lives by drinking, and those philanthropists wanted a different life for their workers, whether they liked it or not.
So we were interested to visit Colonia Güell when we found out about it. It’s a similar set up in a manufacturing area, Santa Coloma de Cervelló, just outside Barcelona. Spain’s industrial revolution came later than ours: but in 1890, industrialist Eusebio Güell realised that if he wanted to attract workers from Barcelona to the factory he was building on his country estate – an essentially rural area – he would have to provide housing. And like his British counterparts, he wanted to do The Right Thing.
Eusebio Güell didn’t just want to have any old housing. He sought out the best architects of the day, disciples of the Modernista movement: the ideas behind Art Nouveau found particularly vibrant expression in Catalonia. More details here.
He provided decent housing for both workers and professionals in spacious streets, the factory itself of course, a theatre, a doctor’s surgery, a school. The school however was for boys only. In many ways it was progressive, teaching foreign languages as well as the three Rs. But girls had to make do with being taught embroidery and other manual skills that would make them dextrous with machinery when they went to work later on. Nuns at the convent taught them, and also provided a nursery so that mothers could return to work soon after they had given birth.
Of course there was a church. And in 1898 Eusebio Güell commissioned the young Antonio Gaudí to design and build it. Had it been finished, this church would have been as ambitious a project as Gaudí ‘s still not quite finished Sagrada Familia. Two naves, lower and upper! Towers! A central 40 foot dome!
The building was begun, but in 1914 the Güell family decided to stop funding the project and Gaudí turned his back on it with only the lower nave completed, now known as the crypt. It was consecrated in 1915. I found it difficult to photograph, but here is a miscellany of shots from the inside and outside of an astonishing building.
During the Spanish Civil War, the mill was collectivised and run by its workers. After the war it was sold back to the Güell family, who sold it on again. Its days were numbered. The textile industry in Europe was collapsing and the factory ceased production in 1973. The factory itself was sold off piecemeal, and the houses to their residents. The settlement was in danger of losing its identity. But in 1990 the Colonia Güell was declared a ‘Heritage of Cultural Interest’ by the Spanish government and the protection of some of its most relevant buildings was established. Nowadays it’s an ordinary working community with an extraordinary history.
We enjoyed walking round and exploring. Sadly, we couldn’t see the factory. On Sunday its current many and various component businesses are shut, the gate to the site barred.
It’s not the easiest place to reach from Barcelona without a car, and as these things are apt to change, I won’t include public transport options. But we’re so glad to have visited, and will go again.
I haven’t done the Lens Artist Challenge for weeks, what with the busyness of being a granny to the latest granddaughter near Barcelona. But this week, Egidio proposes Warm Colours.
Well, Barcelona is warm at the moment. Here is a photo I snatched on 26th January – January! – of a young girl perfectly adequately dressed for the season.
And of course the weather is not what this challenge is necessarily about. But maybe a bit of fun played out against a hotel wall painted a vibrant shade of coral, on a balmy winter’s day, will not be too much of a cop-out.
Here are vignettes of three snippets of lives lived on the balcony of Hotel Catalonia Catedral, near – of course – the cathedral in Barcelona.
And here is a scene from our bedroom, taken at the beginning – or the end – of the day. Which? Only you can decide.
The featured image is of a herring gull who paraded obstreperously outside our car – only our car – as we waited to board the ferry at Dover. It was elevenses time-ish, but we displayed no evidence of snacking, so I don’t know what it was all about.
These other gulls are, according to Google Lens, yellow-legged gulls, and closely related to the herring gull. These specimens were loitering on the window ledge of the roof top café from which we were enjoying the view in the centre of Barcelona.
Thank you, everybody who identified last week’s creature as an Egyptian Grasshopper. It is good to know what this impressive creature is.
… And for Bird of the Week L
In a city centre back street in Barcelona, somewhere near Las Ramblas, we found this shop. It sells one thing only: blocks of dried salt cod: bacallà (Catalan) bacalau (Spanish). Salting and drying cod changes and deepens the flavour, and means it will keep for a very long time if necessary. Soak it to remove much of the salt and to soften it, and use in your favourite recipe!
For Debbie’s Six Word Saturday.
I showed you three images on Monday.
- Yes, they're of a church.
- You should have stuck to your guns: they're the work of Antoni Gaudí.
- It's an early work of his, and unfinished.
- And it was built as the place of worship for the textile manufacturing area, just outside Barcelona, of Santa Coloma de Cervelló .
- This community is now known as Colònia Güell. It's a worker's colony that was commissioned as a model town by Count Eusebi de Güell in 1898.
It’s a fascinating story and an interesting place. But telling it to you will have to wait till I’m back in England and have the time to do it justice. I’ll try to whet your appetite with just a few random images from the town.
Nobody could accuse Barcelona of being a spot of ‘rus in urbe‘. Oh, it’s tremendously good at public open space to relax in and at tree lined streets. But shady expanses of groves and avenues of trees, of busy little streams and placid ponds? Not so much.
Except for one place, quite unique in the city. The Parc del Laberint d’Horta (Labyrinth Park of Horta) has been here since 1791, when the Desvalls family had it built as a Neoclassical park, and one featuring a maze – hence the park’s name – and any number of classical statues of Greek deities. In the mid 19th century a more free-flowing Romantic woodland park was added. And in the 1960s it became a public park, hidden from the view of many of the city’s inhabitants, let alone tourists. It costs the very odd sum of 2.23 Euros to get in, except on Wednesdays and Sundays when it’s free: or if your an old fogey like me, it’s always free.
Come with me for a stroll. When we feel up to it, we’ll attempt the maze. They say it’s harder than it looks.
We’ll begin with a rather hearty climb among woodland glades interspersed with pretty reflective pools.
Soon, we realise we must have skirted the very heart of the garden, now lying below us.
Oh look. There are balustrades, and statuary, and pavilions and … that must be the maze in the centre? Let’s go along and look.
A final look at the maze from above, before we plunge in. Black and white white might make it easier to sort out. You’d sooner not try it? Your choice.
Oh, this won’t take long. Look, I can see through the branches easily. In fact I can see the centre from here …
Oh hang on. I want to go left, and I can’t. OK, right, left and left again. Hmm. I seem to be near the beginning again. Right, let’s take this slowly …
And I did. Eventually, I met Eros in the centre and sat with him for a while.
Getting out was worse than getting in. I kept on fetching up with Eros again, or finding myself up yet another blind alley. But I made it out eventually, and decided that I really would have liked your company as I thrashed helplessly around.
I’d nearly explored the whole site, but went for a final stroll, encountering various characters, identity unsolved, on the way.
At this point, I could have gone home. Instead, I walked into the Horta district, roughly a kilometre away: a well-established community where ordinary citizens live and work, and where there is no possible reason for a tourist to venture. Except I’d had a tip-off. I should have my lunch at Quimet d’Horta. This unique bar has been serving the locals its signature dish for almost 100 years. An omelette sandwich. A bit weird? I thought so. But I was wrong. A cheesy, herby omelette enveloped into half a crisp-crusted baguette, and helped down by a clara turned out to be just the thing I needed. And as I was eating at the ridiculously early hour of 1 o’clock, I had the place almost to myself.
This is a multi-tasking post. First of all, it’s part of my Barcelona series. Then it’s for Amy’s Lens-Artist Challenge #288: Unique. And then, despite the fact that no cake was consumed in the expedition, it’s for Jo’s Monday Walk.
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
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