Calling on Catalonia

Pittsburgh Post-Gazette - 10/04/2011 - Sally Kalson

One thing I've learned from traveling: No spot is too high, inaccessible or improbably situated for someone to have built something there.

It might be that an indigenous population has inhabited the region for centuries, constructing its own civilization, or it could be a fortress built to defend against attacks. Then there are the places that were designed for the purpose of isolation -- to avoid the outside world or escape whatever was going on in the lowlands (floods, famine, fascism). Or to commemorate something that occurred there.

Through some combination of the last two factors, the Benedictine monks of Catalonia built a monastery near the top of Montserrat, literally "serrated mountains," in northeastern Spain, a 90-minute train ride mostly west from Barcelona.

Montserrat is a spectacular natural wonder, 4,000 feet high, with long, jagged outcroppings that huddle together like the teeth of a mythological beast large enough to devour the sky. The jutting rock columns make an impressive outline from below, but the closer you get the more dramatic they become.

Riding up on the aerial tram during a recent trip (there's also a funicular train), it seems you're headed into a giant maw. No wonder Franco failed to suppress the Catalan language, literature and nationalism, given the monastery's clandestine efforts to preserve them. It was not an easy place to subjugate.

Among the legends spawned by the mountain's other-worldliness: that Parsifal, the Arthurian hero, found the Holy Grail here. But the most powerful draw is the legend of the Virgen de Montserrat, a statue supposedly carved by Saint Luke and discovered in a grotto in 880 by shepherds. A local bishop built a shrine on the mountain and by the 9th century there were four chapels there, one of which still exists.

A new version of the Virgen was carved in the 12th century, known today as La Moreneta, or the Black Madonna, for her dark skin. Today she is the patron saint of Catalonia. Thousands of pilgrims, especially newlyweds seeking blessed unions, make their way there to touch the globe she holds in her hand (the rest of her is encased in glass).

The monastery was founded in 1025 and expanded through the ages, growing wealthy from the support of patrons until Napoleon leveled the sanctuary in 1811. Rebuilding followed for several decades, resulting in today's complex. It houses a community of 80 monks, as well as one of Europe's most renowned boys choirs, Escolania, which dates to the 13th century.

The Renaissance basilica, with its soaring ceilings, gold altar pieces, mosaics, stained glass and statues, is worth the trip all by itself. But for me, the high point of Montserrat was something completely unexpected: an art museum with some 1,300 works. Aside from archeological objects and iconography, it has a collection of paintings that would make any big-city curator envious.

There were 13th century works by Caravaggio, El Greco, Tiepolo, Berruguete, Morales, Luca Giordano and El Greco. The collection of Catalan paintings spans the 13th to 18th centuries, with Picasso, Dali, Degas, Miro, Monet, Rusinol and Casas.

As we walked from room to room, I kept shaking my head in amazement. What is this fabulous collection doing at the top of a mountain in a remote corner of the country? (What else were the monks going to do with these fabulous gifts from the faithful?)

Why had I never heard of it, or of some of the artists whose works clearly merit attention? (Woeful gaps in my store of knowledge, such as it is.)

How could the guide books not devote several pages to its contents? (Probably because of grander museums in Madrid, Bilbao, etc.)

Barcelona is a wonderland unto itself. The city's high points are well known, from the fantastical Gaudi architecture and gracious plazas to the cosmopolitan atmosphere and fresh seafood at portside bistros. My favorite parts were the unexpected ones: the fresh foods market, the daily show under our hotel balcony and a music hall unlike anything I'd ever seen.

The Palau Musica Catalana, or Catalan Music Palace, is considered the crown jewel of the city's Modernist buildings and one of the most extraordinary concert venues in the world, for good reason. Designed by Lluis Demenech i Montaner and opened in 1908, its outside has more flamboyant color, detail and design in any square yard than the brain can register -- pillars wrapped in paintings and mosaics, busts of composers, elaborate archways, carved ceilings and balconies, glorious stained glass and ornamental light fixtures.

The inside is just as incredible. The dominant feature is a magnificent stained glass ceiling whose center drops to an inverted cupola, like the underside of a vortex. As for the stage, Fodor's describes it better than I can:

"A permanent uproar before the first note is ever heard ... Wagnerian cavalry explodes from the right side of the stage ... painted rosettes and giant peacock feathers explode from the tops of walls ... even the stage is populated with muse-like Art Noveau musicians across the back wall."

At the Boqueria market, we found row after row of fishmongers selling every conceivable sea creature, many of which I didn't recognize. Icy fresh fruit drinks came in any combination (watermelon and coconut, anyone?). Counters spilled over with ripe produce, strings of peppers in every color, baskets of spices, nuts and chocolates ... it made me wonder if any food remained for the rest of the world.

Every afternoon brought impromptu performances on the steps of the Barcelona Cathedral in the heart of the Gothic district. Guitar music floated up to our hotel room above the square and Catalan folk dancers joined raised hands to dance in a circle around shorn coats piled on the ground.

There's a lot of Spain we didn't get to visit, but I'd rather spend more time in fewer places and let the flavors sink in. Plus, everything we saw or did there was new to us. And it's always good to leave something for next time.