Category: Europe 2019

March 17, 2019

It seems fitting that as we entered Spain, we were greeted with a sign (in English) that touted “Self- determination is a right, not a crime.”  A century ago, at Versailles, Woodrow Wilson would have been pleased. Today that sentiment is recaptured in Spain by the efforts of Catalonia to reverse the decision, a result of the marriage of Isabella and Ferdinand in 1492, that created Spain as we know it,  A referendum called by the Parliament of Catalunya a few years ago, in violation of the Spanish constitution, led to Madrid’s jailing the Catalan officials who did not flee Spain, and they are currently on trial.

Catalunya had a separate history from much of the rest of Spain (which, incidentally has four official languages, including Castilian, Basque and Catalan), much of which I learned about yesterday.  Part of the day we spent looking at the present, or at least the last 150 years, where Barcelona has produced artists such as Picasso and Miro, and architects like Gaudi and welcomed Mies Van Der Rohe to build a pavilion that now stands as a museum of his accomplishments.  They’ve left impressive marks around the world (see the Art Institute and IIT), and impressive tributes here in Barcelona.

Indeed, the Sagrada Familia, a modern basilica, is one of those buildings so iconic that when you see it, you know you are in Barcelona.  Started by Antoni Gaudi nearly 150 years ago, it’s still unfinished, and new architects (12 I understand) are attempting to complete the building, which is Spain’s most visited monument.  That’s a good thing, because it’s funded solely by tour money and requires about $2 million a month in maintenance and development.

Gaudi never liked straight lines, and it’s interesting to see what he did to some apartment buildings around the city—the Catalan contribution to modernism.  One looks like caves (he admired Catholic hermits), with a crowning mountain on top.

The Picasso museum houses mostly works from his younger years, when his father (a painter) tried his best to convince his son if he wanted to make a living he would have to learn portraiture.  While some of the portraits border on “classic”,  Picasso soon moved into blue and cubism, the kind of work that’s mostly in museums elsewhere.  Guernica, the only piece Carolyn likes, is in Madrid.

I, on the other hand, enjoyed the museum itself—a well put together five renaissance palaces—the best room for me being the one left from the old palace, but I’ve been known to prefer baroque to Braque.

I also enjoyed my tour of the old city.  I had to visit the Cathedral, started around 1300 and finished 150 years later, with a neo-Gothic façade added in the late 19^th century. The side chapels were all either 1400 or late 17^th century, either Renaissance or Baroque, stunning tributes to the wealth of medieval Barcelona.

Once the home of the Kings of Aragon, Barcelona’s history dates from Octavius Augustus, to whom a temple still stands.  In fact, under the palace of the king, part of the building has been excavated as one of the most interesting Roman ruins I’ve seen.  What is uncovered is the industrial heart of the Roman city (1-4 centuries), including a fish sauce factory, a winery, and, my favorite, a laundry.  I learned that one of the “cleansing agents” was urine, which the laundry collected outside its doors in pots for the purpose.  The company paid a tax to be able to gather the precious ingredient, which turned to ammonia. Carolyn doubted my theory about how I could help her with laundry!

That building, part of the palace of the King, also traced the history of religious spots on the site, from Augustus who was treated as a god, through the introduction of Christianity (a la Constantine, who in 313 declared Christianity the official religion. It came too late to save Euliala, a martyr in 303 whose body lies under the present Cathedral); then came the subsequent occupation by the Christian Visigoths, the Muslims (for about 80 years), then the Counts of Barcelona and finally the splendid Cathedral .

The treat today was to have been the impressive National Museum of Catalan Art, which houses a collection of medieval art rescued from churches about to be demolished.  Alas, it being Sunday, the museum closed early, so we contented ourselves with a three-hour tour on the On-Off bus, which took us past another shrine in the city—FCB, the football stadium of Barcelona, home of Lionel Messi and lots of people who think football is played with your foot.

The real treat was the discovery that at 11 this morning the symphony was doing Beethoven’s 9^th symphony.  What a novel idea—brunch with Beethoven.  The unusual feature was as simultaneous performance art of people and slides. The highlight, of course, is the final movement, the setting of Schiller’s Ode to Joy, which is the unofficial anthem of the European Union—the statement of the ‘Other” Europe, that all men are brothers, including Castilians and Catalans.

Europe’s smallest country

March 15, 2019

Andorra is Europe’s smallest country; not in the EU, but an independent entity nonetheless, it has diplomatic representation, its own stamps, uses the Euro, and has maintained its independence for over a thousand years by playing off Spain and France.  That’s the case today, where it’s co-leaders are President Macron of France (“he signs what we tell him to,” our hotelier stated), and a bishop of Spain. A democratic parliament has been constitutionally running the country day-to-day for at least 26 years, a feat celebrated today as “Constitution Day” which shut down everything, including Starbucks—except for McDonald’s and Burger King.

I had expected, honestly, a much smaller city-state (I think the population is about 200,000), but it’s about 20 miles of spectacular scenery, from about 7500 feet down to where we are, in the largest “city”, at 3000 plus.  As I look out the window, what I’m seeing reminds me of Vail—a ski town with new condos halfway up the mountain.  There’s a world ski cup going on, mostly in the upper reaches, which are snow clad, and remain open until April 22 (after which, I think, the slopes become suitable for the mountain biking world cup.). This is tourist country.

The country is duty-free, which means it’s either ski (or increasingly snowboard) or shop.  I’m afraid to ask where’s the “old city,” since I’ll probably get shown a 1970s premall store. I think there’s one or two old buildings, somewhere, rather like Hong Kong.  The comparison is apt from the shopping standpoint—high-end stores and electronics. Nathan Road anyone?

The language deceived me, initially; it’s Catalan.  The marquees read “Bon Dia”,not “Buenos dias”, and the directions read “Espanya”, “ not Espana, with a squiggle over the n, but Andorrans seem to be happy to take any currency.  The official map is printed in Catalan, Spanish, French—and Russian. Perhaps neighbor Catalonia, instead of agitating for independence, ought to seek annexation to Andorra?

We’re here less than 24 hours so I think I better take a walk before we leave.  Everything is open again, and tourists are welcome!

March 13, 2019

Carolyn’s other bucket list stop on this trip was the medieval fortress at Carcassonne, the best preserved (or perhaps restored) architectural gem of its kind in Europe. 

It’s no wonder it was important as long ago as Roman times (typically, the Romans founded the locations for what are now the great cities of Europe). It’s on a hilltop overlooking a river valley, in sight of the Pyrenees (another important dimension), and on the trade route from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean.

The Roman garrison built the first wall in the 4^th century A.D., which did not spare the city from being conquered by the Visigoths, initiating a millennium in which warfare played a role in defining the city. 

One major incursion apparently gave it its name.  It was ruled briefly by the Saracens, including the cagey wife of Bulcak, Lady Carcas.  According to legend, when Charlemagne besieged the city, she propped up dummies at the ramparts to trick Charlemagne into thinking the city had more defenders than it did.  Then she fed the last pig the last remaining grain and threw it over the wall, and Charlemagne was supposedly convinced the city could not be taken, and called off the siege; the city has since been known as Carcassonne.

Another highlight occurred in the 13^th century, when the viscount was one of the staunchest supporters of an early effort to reform the Catholic church.  The Charthars, Albigensians, rejected the authority of the Pope.  In 1209, one of the Pope’s crusading armies swooped down and conquered Carcassonne under Simon de Montfort, whose ruthless Catholicism had originally taken him on the fourth crusade (the one that detoured from Jerusalem to Constantinople); he left it when the Crusaders plundered the Christian city of Zara.  He came back to France and took up arms against the Albigensians.

Shortly thereafter, the victor transferred the city to the King of France, who built its second wall and reinforced a number of its towers, creating an imposing fortress that was then on the boundary with the Kingdom of Aragon.   Added were the trappings of castles: the barbican, a curved wall in front, and hoardings, a temporary wooden platform to enable archers to shoot directly downward, and death holes (we learned a lot of vocabulary today).  It had 52 towers.

In the mid-19^th century, Viollet de Luc, an archeologist interested in medieval restoration (Notre Dame was one of his projects), made the restoration of the fortress one of his major goals.  He was hampered somewhat because the archives had burned down, leaving only one portrait of what the old city had looked like.  He recreated the city of Louis IX, in the thirteenth century, a task which took 50 years.  His first renovation was of the church, an interesting combination of Romanesque (early) and Gothic (under the King); interestingly, it was the discovery of the tomb of one of the early bishops in the church that inspired Monsieur Violett le Luc. 

Parts of the city have since been changed—for example, some of the towers have been restored to appear as they might have been built by Visigoths; part of the Roman wall is still there, marked by smaller bricks, and a row of red bricks so the builders could level the tower.  There’s also a statue to the long time Maire, he who brought water to the hilltop.  Our guide told us that probably no more than 50 people live in the city today  (“You have to get to the supermarket in the lower city before 9, and back before the tour buses get here,” she stated), but nearly 4 million visitors come here every year.

We’re lucky it’s relatively quiet now, and my lady and I can really enjoy our two nights (and one knight) in the 13^th century.  It’s much easier based in our 5 star hotel!

March 12, 2019

When I woke up yesterday in Montignac and looked in the mirror, I thought, “Old.”  Then I realized where I was—in the former home of Dr. Bouilhac, medicin to Louis XV, a 16^th century home restored as a ten-room hotel.  As I looked out the window on the town, I saw looming over us a 14^th century castle, one that defended the town in days of yore. I felt younger.

Then, in comparison with the rest of the day,  I was even younger—because much of this region, Périgord, has been settled by homo sapiens for about as long as there have been homo sapiens—about 40,000 years—and the relics of humans (and predecessors–Neanderthals and Cro Magnons) abound.  In fact, the caves at Lascaux (pronounced Lascow, a spelling adopted for a local beer), with its extensive art were one of the reasons Carolyn designed this trip—an opportunity to cross off one of the highest-ranking items on her bucket list.

The caves were rediscovered in September 1940 when four lads chased a dog into a hole that appeared when a tree toppled, re-exposing the entrance to the cave.  For about 25 years, the cave owners and the state welcomed visitors—almost 1 million—until someone realized that the number of humans who visited reduced the possibility that the cave art would last.  About 20 years later, the French government opened a meticulous recreation of about half the cave; five years ago, Lascaux IV opened, with about 95% of the cave reproduced in detail, in a setting cave-like, but one that will preserve the art in the original cave. The paintings are stunning.

The caves (new and old) are probably a mile long, with the best-known art in prehistory.  I discovered there’s a lot of caves in the area, and a lot more art, but the Lascaux Caves are the best preserved and the best known.  The humans who lived in the cave did so about 20,000 years ago, on the edge of carbon 14 dating, and painted what they knew: bison, cows, and horses, and some that no longer exist, like cave bears and mammoths. 

The National Museum of Prehistory, about 25 miles away, had to be our second stop.  It predates the discovery of the Lascaux caves by over 30 years, and was started because a number of the “finds” in the area were winding up in Berlin.  In fact, the Kaiser himself bought something—which led to a patriotic (French) outcry and a new museum.  Once housed in a local chateau, it’s now in a new building of its own.   There were over 400,000 items in the collection, most of them from the local area, but some reproductions (Lucy from Ethiopia, the first upright walking fossil—I saw the original in Addis Ababa), and some from elsewhere in Europe, including Bulgaria. Many of the items are flakes, but making tools was one of the first “technological” breakthroughs of modern man. 

When we got back, I felt much younger.  How often does that happen?

March 10, 2019

I knew I wouldn’t be bored in Bordeaux as soon as we stepped off the plane at the airport.  Our guide met us and offered to take our bags to the car.  When he got there, he said, “Carolyn’s wheelchair is in the front trunk, so I’ll put your bags in the rear.” “Say what?” “Oh, it’s a Tesla, and it has two trunks.”  “Where’s the engine?” “It’s really small,” he said, pointing to a 20-inch monitor that was guide to the car and supersized GPS, noting that the battery took up a lot of the room.  Further discussion revealed that this absolutely quiet machine costs around $100,000, which may explain why I don’t have one (yet).

As we drove to the hotel, I thought, “This looks like Paris, with broad boulevards and 3 story high buildings that look like they could be from a Caillebotte painting.”  Reading my mind, Pascal noted that Baron Hausmann, who redesigned Paris to prevent another uprising had worked on the grand plans for the old city of Bordeaux, which was in the process of doing what most 19^th century cities aspired to do—to be the Paris of (fill in the missing blank, but in this case, it would be the Gironde, a part of France that gave rise to one of the famous political parties almost wiped out in 1793, the Girondin, bourgeoisie who sided with a liberal monarchy). In fact, behind our hotel, a 110 foot- high pillar memorialized the 100 years after the event.

We got to our hotel around 10:30 am, only to learn that our room would not be ready until 3.  A jet-lagged Carolyn insisted we get a room; the only one available, the attendant intoned, was the Marie Antoinette suite, a considerable upgrade.  “Take it,” I was ordered, and I obeyed. 

About three hours into our recovery time, drums boomed, as the “Yellow Jacket” protest parade filed by.  Bordeaux is a large enough city to have had them, and some violence as a result.  They’re against a variety of French/European changes, and angry enough to have burned some shops.  Stay inside, we were told; and the opera that night had been canceled.

The city remains, like many European cities, on the site chosen by the Romans originally.  The Romans also brought one of their best known and still important contributions—Bordeaux wine—to the area.  While only vestiges of one Coliseum remain above ground, every time something is built, Greco-Roman artifacts get sent to the Aquitaine Museum (another name for the region), which now houses an impressive collection beginning with prehistoric man.

These prehistoric relics are why we came to Bordeaux, the closest major airport to the Caves at Lascaux, where in the 1940s, some boys discovered a cave with art dating back over 30,000 years—art done by homo  sapiens. That’s tomorrow’s story, however.

Today’s was the Bordelaise, the name for residents of Bordeaux, now a city of around 750,000, 20% of whom still owe their living to the wine that has made Bordeaux world-renown.

The city, on an estuary off the Atlantic Coast, was, until recently, France’s major port, and that too has shaped its history.  At its height, over 3000 ships anchored in the muddy waters offshore, many of them involved in the slave trade.  The long connection with England owes to more than the wine trade, however; Eleanor of Aquitaine married two kings.  The first was English, and her sons (she was fecund) included the infamous King John, and the very famous Richard the Lionhearted.  She also married a man who became the King of France.  Not sure I have the order right, but eventually she returned to Aquitaine and married her talents to the arts.  The result of her marriage to kings was that this area was by marriage part of England, and the French contested that claim for over 100  years (during the Hundred Years’ War of course). The city seal still includes three lions, symbolic of the English connection.

Like most medieval cities, it had a wall—Europeans tended to fight frequently, so it was best to keep riff-raff out, and charge tourists (some things don’t change)—and several gates still remain, including the gross cloche—the big clock tower that is still the symbol of the city.

And again, like most Catholic cities, it has a number of churches, including 2 basilica and one cathedral.  We spent some time in the cathedral, home to the local bishop, and marveled its combination of architectural styles—starting with its 12^th century Romanesque origins and continuing through the Gothic and Neo Gothic—parts of it were not completed or rebuilt until the 19^th century. The intellectual life of the Renaissance here made famous Montaigne and Montesquieu, two local philosophes and writers, one of whose sarcophagi is in the Aquitaine museum.

This area prospered too as a result of the slave trade—it was France’s major port on the Atlantic—and some of the money went into building the  mansions along the riverfront that are still impressive, even if no longer single-family dwellings. Bordelaise consequently chafed under Napoleon’s continental system (that forbid trade with the outside world) and of course, had to find other sources of income until the restoration of the Monarchy.

One of the industries that took over for the slave trade was shipbuilding, an industry that existed into World War II, when Vichy serviced and built German submarines. Today, the estuary is not maintained well, and the maritime trade has been replaced with aerospace and high tech and tourism; it’s close to the beaches of the Atlantic, where there is the highest sand dune in Europe.

Happily for me, the area is also know for its duck, and magret de canard, (duck breast) and risotto con truffles with foie gras (goose liver) are two of the dishes now off my to-do-list

As one of the chamber of commerce documents described it, “Charming Bordeaux.”  I thought that was an apt description.