Blackwarren Travelogue Part One
Blackwarren Editor Renard Defleuraux recently took time abroad following the tragic loss of his father. Here’s his story.
Grief is a strange thing. It's like a potent spice; no matter what else comprises the dish, it alters and overwrites everything else. All too recently, I lost my father in a sudden and frightening episode, and it's weighing heavy on my soul. Everything is altered— my mother's plans for spending her golden years with a man she had been married to for over forty years have all melted away, and I have to experience all the hundreds of little ways my life is now different and emptier.
But life doesn't stay still, and not every plan can be canceled. The day he died was two days away from when I was supposed to fly out of the country for a whirlwind cruise around Europe with some friends; not exactly the typical backdrop for mourning a loved one. But, my family encouraged me to go, and one of the last things I promised my dad when he was in the hospital was that I was going to bring him back something from Italy that he'd love— and that's exactly what I'm going to do. So, for the next week here on Blackwarren, join me on a bittersweet voyage of seeing some of the wonders of the world, sharing it with good company, and honoring the memory of the man who shaped me into who I am in a thousand different ways.
The First Day
Alongside me for my European tour are my roommates, whom I will call Tan and Jack, and our mutual friend, whom I will call Hal. I am the tallest and biggest person in this merry band, so naturally, the flight across the Atlantic was hell on my knees and back, as sitting still on a modern-day economy-class airplane seat is not unlike an amateur contortionist act. Despite being a window person for all my years, I, like my father before me, reclaimed some few precious inches of legroom by taking the aisle seat but only resulted in every single person managing to shoulder check me as they trundled down the aisle.
After seven hours, however, we're now in Spain. Tan had a similarly unpleasant experience and was convinced his Filipino ancestors were warning him about traveling through the so-called Motherland. Coming from English stock myself, I can't relate, but can sympathize with an ancestral distrust of the dastardly Spanish Armada. Our first port of call is the picturesque city of Barcelona, an ancient city whose history and culture stretches back thousands of years. Legend has it that it was founded by the Carthaginian general Hamilcar Barca, father of the mighty Hannibal who struck such fear into the Roman Republic during the Punic Wars, and the family Barca gave the city its name.
While this is considered a legend, it does make for a good story, which the people of Barcelona are all about. Barcelona is today a thriving cultural center with a distinct culture, Catalan, separate from the rest of Spain, which has fuelled debates and referendums on independence. This is fitting, as really, the city is unlike anywhere else in the world. It has a very unique look, courtesy in part from the famed architect Antoni Gaudi, who adorned the city with several masterpieces of fanciful, whimsical architecture that drew inspiration from Neo-Gothic and Beaux Arts movements of the 19th century. The result is something out of a dream or a fairytale, and nowhere is that better seen in the city's most famous landmark, and our main goal of the day, La Sagrada Familia.
A frankly enormous cathedral, La Sagrada Familia is one of the most famous buildings in the world. Construction started in 1883 and is still ongoing, with a projected completion date of 2025. A triumph of human expression and Gaudi's uncompromising vision, the church evokes all the overwrought ornamentation of baroque and gothic cathedrals that dot Europe, especially Spain, but also celebrates naturalism. The interior of the cathedral evokes a rich forest but also a rib cage, bringing together beautiful and pastoral images of nature as well as gruesome and grotesque characteristics, and celebrates them as two parts of the same whole, all part of God's creation, as Gaudi saw it.
It is an utterly unique work of art. The stark white walls of the cathedral reflect the colored light of its stained glass, bathing the inside in an awe-inspiring rainbow of reds, yellows, greens, and blues. I'll out myself here and say that I am indeed religious, and such a sight as this does stir the soul. Dad would have loved it. I bought a keychain at the gift shop— a small trinket, but Dad collected them, stringing them all together, and so I'll keep adding to that collection for a while yet. However, La Sagrada Familia sapped what little energy we all had, and so we trudged back to our ship and collectively crashed until dinner, exhausted, but already eager for more.
Come back next week for even more from Ren as he continues his trek through Europe.
