Miro

I made my way to the Foundation of Miro in Montjuc today.  The train ride was as usual, but I really should have gotten off at Barcelona Sants as it was much closer to my goal.  However, I made it on the Metro to Espanya and was trying to orient myself with my now falling apart map.  I was working on the street names when I saw the sculpture in the Miro Parc, so I went for a photo and eventually found my street.  Shortly thereafter I found my bus stop and waited patiently.  Trust me, us old ladies at bus stops are quite pleased to wait if we have a seat.  The bus driver was very helpful.  I try not to annoy them with my Spanish.  Voila, Joan Miro Foundation. 

Buy a ticket and audio guide in English, find the bano de los mujeres, find the cafe, English menu saves the wait staff's nerves and the salami sandwich and lemonada were just what I wanted anyway.  Then the rather extensive collection in a lovely building designed for it.  One glitch in the design was the ever present love of natural lighting which is both free and lovely here.  The only problem is that it also takes it toll on the paintings, so now it is blocked off and artificial is used. 

No photographing the collection, but the terrace is fine, so what you see on the photo blog is either from the front of the museum or from the terrace.  Miro, a Catalyn, has the same casual comfort with nudity that we see all around us here at the beach.  The sculptures of his younger years usually have erect phalluses (which we don't see on the beach), but when you get to his later works the male has a water faucet phallus.  Alas. 

I was really whupped after the museum, so I checked my map and sure enough the Estation de Tren Barcelona Sants was fairly close, so I took the cab parked out front.  Had a little discussion with the cab driver about sports.  He assumed that I would be a Dolphin fan, but when I said "Tampa" he was right on the Bucks.  Not so much the Rays. 

Which reminds me, waiting for the traffic light in Barcelona the other day we had a short exchange with two adolescent boys.  One saw the Obama button on my backpack and gave me the thumbs up.  His friend was wearing a Brooklyn Dodgers hat, so I had to comment about the days when the Dodgers were in Brooklyn.  No intiendo, I'm afraid. 

I'm watching the Friday jets on their way to Africa.  They leave El Prat and fly across my field of vision here on the terrace and then make a slight turn south.  Amazing that Africa is so close.  We both wish that we could have seen Gibraltar last year, but it was the middle of the night and we had a big day at the Alhambra the next day.  Maybe someday....

I'll work on those photos now...

KG