We walked down the whole rambla and finally reached the end, where there was a tall statue stabbing the sky. We didn't really venture too close to the monument, but walked along the side of the road, instead, where a carriage stood, replete with the warm hay fragrance of the horses.
On the way back, we picked our way through shady, small alleys, constantly twisting and turning at right angles. Eventually, we found ourselves inside the Barri Gotic - the gothic quarter with walls and accents to match. I really loved the architecture here, high archways over dark, cool brick alleys that hid the sound of the street. It was like something out of an Alexandra Dumas novel; I could imagine characters running in and out the alleys or having hushed conversations behind the shaded walls.
This wall, perpendicular to a beautifully latticed stone walkway (according to Wikipedia, it's called Carrer del Bisbe Irurita, whatever the hell that means - MB! Translate!), had a series of long-necked gargoyles running along it, animals distorted from their normal shape. There were birds like garudas and snouted creatures that looked like a cross between pigs and elephants.
Along one wall, we peeked into a tiny opening to see a beautiful, mythical looking green garden inside, fountains framed by green fronds. It looked so cool and inviting that we thought it was the courtyard of a rich man's private house. Turns out it was the entrance to a cathedral.
I personally thought the yard was the prettiest part of the cathedral. It had a large pond filled with ducks wagging their tails and coming round to tourists out of curiosity. And a pretty little fountain or font-type thing at the side.
The inside of the cathedral had the traditional high, arched ceilings that one would expect in European cathedrals, tall, faceted pillars and the most beautiful stained-glass. It's amazing to me that I'd never seen such wonderful stained glass in my life up to that point, and it was some kuching kurab cathedral in the middle of Barcelona. Asian countries just don't seem to have a culture for churches like this, not even the cathedrals I've seen in Hong Kong (which was, frankly, an icing-blue monstrosity), the Phillipines or Singapore.
We had to get into a dinky little lift to get up onto the roof. It creaked and whined like crazy, and my heart beat a little faster when another group of sweaty tourists crammed themselves in. At the top, we could see part of Barcelona, and the tall steeples of the church where scaffolding had been laid for restoration. All I could think about was how a roof centuries old was supporting the weight of all the hale young tourists who were tramping up and down it, and I confess, it made my knees a little weak.
Saa enjoys a contemplative moment above the hustle and bustle of the city.
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