It was my first day in Barcelona and the sky looked angry and dull. It was such a gloomy, wet day, I felt the cold envelop me. Every hour I walked out to the
balcony and showed my fist skywards punching into empty space. While travelling,
every day counts, to spend the day indoors was quite depressing.
In the evening, my host suggested we go for a drive. My face beamed, going out for a drive in this wet weather would certainly change my mood.
In the evening, my host suggested we go for a drive. My face beamed, going out for a drive in this wet weather would certainly change my mood.
The sky had calmed down, there was just a faint drizzle. We decided to walk up the tiled pathway leading to the Monastery of Montserrat.
There were lots of tourists at this point braving the wet, biting cold weather. I snuggled tightly under my shawl and increased my pace to feel the warmth.
There were rail tracks too for the people who had reached at this point from the city by train.
A tram coach rolled through the steep curves going down the hills offering the view of sloping plains.
Another tram coach rose up the cliff at dangerous angles to reach the top of the cliff. I am sure there would be a reward of beautiful view and a strong cold breeze at the top of the cliff but I wouldn't dare sit in that tram, it looked too steep.
Monastery is what draws people here, there is a statue of black Madonna inside the church which is believed to have powers of answering prayers. Some people, who have faith in miracles, walk up the steep path for more than five hours on an empty stomach to reach this place.
At some places it seemed like the church is clinging to cliff for support, the cliff resembled at some places like a huge idol of elephant Gods.
I was drawn towards the architecture of this church, the floral dents above each window, the droplets at the rims, the symmetrical curved walls
Inside the church there were etched murals depicting an inspirational story of faith.
The huge stained glass windows allowed enough light to brighten up the dark corridors
Jesus and his apostles were etched out on the facade of Montserrat basilica. The church inside had high gold plated ceiling that was quite ornamental. We walked up the steps, and arrived at tiny inlet at the end of the church that housed the statue of black Madonna, people called it 'Morenita'. The six o'clock mass was being conducted, peace surrounded the walls, the hymns resonated, echoing, bouncing back from the ceiling.
Soon the bells began to chime and it was time to leave. We spend more than one hour going through corridors, visiting different rooms. One room contained offerings (including shoes, wax limbs, books and even bridal wear), other room had hundreds of burning candles each flickering with promise to be fulfilled, and yet another room had just a lone bench for a private chat with spiritual being.
Every person had their own reason for visiting this place and all found the peace in their own way.