May 29, 2009

by Bryson Strauss

BARCELONA – With the Jean Wells exhibition the following night at Imaginart*, LOOP Fair opening, and with the Venice Biennale and Art Basel around the corner, it may seem odd to launch into a European art blog with a story about a futból game.  Given the severity, however, it would definitely be a cultural misstep to ignore what happened when Barcelona Club and Manchester United squared off in Rome and Barcelona was shooting for a triple cup. 

We knew nothing of it upon arrival.  But after a 15-hour flight and a 7-hour nap, I stepped out on my balcony on Travessera de Gràcia to polish off the final pages of some airport pap I had planned to finish in flight (and that I’d no doubt entirely forget upon turning the last pages), to the echoing cheers of invisible fanaticos!!  With people tucked away in apartments and bars and storefronts, their chorus of chants and admonishments ricocheted off the old buildings and through the empty streets of Gràcia.  Lara, my friend and former student in Los Angeles, called to say, “If the Barcelona Club wins, Gràcia is going to be crazy.”  It was an understatement of monumental proportion.

Holiday and I pulled ourselves together, stepped out on the empty streets at around 8 PM, and followed the noise through small alleyways and along cobble stone roads until we arrived at Plaza de Sol.  Cañas (small draft beers), flags, trouboudors, chanting…and then bam! Barcelona Club won! 

What happened next was akin to someone pulling the trigger on a concourse of cannons. The entire city ignited.  We met two French designers for Renault and headed toward the Plaza de Catalunya. People poured out of every crevice. Grabbing some drinks, we knocked and banged our way as hordes of people stampeded down Passeig de Gràcia, finally pausing at Antonio Gaudi’s masterpiece, Casa Batllo. Holiday shot video while I entertained an architectural history lesson from the French guys.  Beers for one Euro. 

As the crowd density increased, we all flowed into the Plaza de Catalunya and at about midnight the cacophony of cheers, fireworks, and horns reached a deafening crescendo. We hung tough until jetlag and drunkenness did us under and we staggered home.   I love futból.  Someday I may actually see a game…on TV.  Bienvenidos a Barcelona.