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<\/a>![\"\"](\"\/\/ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com\/e\/ir?t=cedarcottagemedi&l=am2&o=1&a=1631218271\")
<\/p>\n![\"dancing](\"data:image\/svg+xml;base64,PHN2ZyB3aWR0aD0iMSIgaGVpZ2h0PSIxIiB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciPjwvc3ZnPg==\")
I had read in a guidebook that on Sundays at noon local Barcelonians gather together to dance the Sardana in the square by the Barcelona Cathedral in the Gothic Quarter where my hotel was conveniently located. The Sardana was on my \u201cto-see\u201d list, but I only had one Sunday in Barcelona and I wanted to spend the day hanging out in Gaudi\u2019s \u201cmust-see\u201d Parc Guell on the other side of town.<\/p>\n
I lucked out when I decided to go for a pre-dinner stroll Saturday evening. As soon as I exited my hotel, I heard spirited \u201cbrassy\u201d music coming from the square and felt compelled to check out the source.<\/p>\n
Several large moving circles of dancers, hands joined together and held high, filled the square. Accompanying them was a small band of musicians assembled on the Cathedral steps. I could not believe my timing: I had stumbled upon the local performance of the Sardana I had wanted to see but would have missed because of my sightseeing schedule. I found a prime \u201corchestra seat\u201d on a step below the musicians.<\/p>\n
I was surprised that the dancers were wearing contemporary casual attire and not traditional folk costumes as I had envisioned. A number of them were wearing espadrilles for comfort and, I assumed, in keeping with their deep sense of national pride, to celebrate the shoe itself as an original Catalan creation.<\/p>\n
The circles were comprised of \u201cSardanistes\u201d of varying ages, the majority of whom appeared to be over 50. In the center of each circle in a heap were the dancers\u2019 personal possessions, a symbolic \u201claying down of life\u2019s burdens,\u201d as I read somewhere, or more likely, I surmised, given the active crime scene in Barcelona, a way of keeping one\u2019s things safe.<\/p>\n
Never one to stay still when an opportunity to dance arose, I wanted to join one of the circles. I studied the footwork, which consisted of very small, precise steps\u2014side-to-side moves, points, crossovers, forwards and backwards. It seemed easy enough to follow. However, each time I was sure I got the sequence of steps down, a new sequence would be introduced or there would be a sudden change in tempo or direction. Even when the dancers seemed to abruptly pause I was deceptively lured into thinking that a dance was over, but then it would suddenly resume. I had no choice but to give up my grandiose ambition to be a Sardanista!<\/p>\n
When I wasn\u2019t watching the dancers\u2019 feet in exasperation, I found myself alternately intrigued by an elderly man in one of the larger circles and two young couples who had formed their own circle on the periphery.<\/p>\n
The man, perhaps in his 80s, was small and frail with a proud weathered Catalan face. Even though he did not perform the intricate steps, he moved his lips as if recalling the steps or the count. I wondered about his past. Much of his life had no doubt been lived during Franco\u2019s rule. Did he have painful memories of that repressive time? Had he and his family kept the tradition of the Sardana alive or had they been forced to abandon it altogether? And, as I watched him dance, touched by his spirit and commitment to participate despite his physical limitations, how was he feeling in that moment, free to raise his head and hands high in an expression of Catalan solidarity?<\/p>\n
The young couples, while just as concentrated and serious about the dance as their older counterparts, seemed to put their \u201cown spin\u201d on the dance with lots of energetic jumping up and down. Was this some new choreography of the post-Franco generation? Had they learned the dance from their families or had they taken Sardana lessons? Was it a social outing or a need to celebrate their Catalan heritage or both that brought the foursome to the square every weekend?<\/p>\n
And then there was the \u201ccobla,\u201d the traditional woodwind band accompanying the dancers. I watched in amazement as the musician who sat behind me simultaneously played a small flute (\u201cflabiol\u201d) with one hand and beat a tiny drum (\u201ctambori\u201d) with the other. I later learned that the flabiol and tambori are typical Catalonian instruments. I could only marvel that the sounds from this small ensemble could fill a huge public space and beyond. It was, after all, their music that first beckoned me to the square.<\/p>\n
While tourists streamed in and out, I stayed for the entire performance that lasted almost two hours. At one point a Sardanista, who \u201cworked the crowd\u201d to solicit donations for the local Sardana organization, accidentally hit me in the back with her foot. I was fine, but profusely apologetic, she kept coming back to me every fifteen minutes to assure herself that I was okay. After the performance she told me, through her French-speaking friend (I know some French), that I must return the following day (Sunday) at noon for the next Sardana performance.<\/p>\n
Before I left for Parc Guell on Sunday, I did return for the encore performance but only stayed a half hour. It was hard to leave the Sardana but Gaudi was waiting for me.<\/p>\n
That was not my final encounter with the Sardana. On my last day in Barcelona, while walking in Parc de Montjuic, the mountain overlooking the city, I unexpectedly found myself face-to-face with the Sardana Dance Monument, the famous life-sized sculpture of figures dancing the Sardana by the Catalan artist, Josep Canas. For me the sculpted figures were not anonymous slabs of stone. In my mind\u2019s eye, I could see in them the elderly man, the two young couples, my \u201csolicitous friend\u201d and the other Sardanistes who danced for me in front of the Barcelona Cathedral, proud, united and steadfast in their homage to their Catalunya.<\/p>\n
\nWine Tasting and Shopping with Lunch from Barcelona<\/a><\/p>\n<\/h3>\nIf You Go:<\/h3>\n
You can see the Sardana dancers on weekends at the Plaza Sant Jaume or in front of the Barcelona Cathedral. Check locally as times and places vary.<\/p>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
About the author:<\/em>
\nFredricka R. Maister is a freelance writer who lives in New York City. She can be contacted at fmaister@yahoo.com.<\/p>\nPhoto Credits:<\/em>
\nStone dancers by Joan Aranda; Cobla by Stanley Epstein; Sardana dancers by Catherine Larson; Dancing shoes by Ellen Edelman.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Barcelona, Spain by Fredricka R. Maister I was just a college girl majoring in art history when I became smitten with the architectural genius of Antoni Gaudi (1852-1926). Captivated by Gaudi\u2019s unconventional, whimsical and gravity-defying architecture, I yearned to visit Barcelona where I could see his creations \u201cin the flesh.\u201d This was decades before Barcelona […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3525,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[26],"tags":[389,92],"class_list":{"0":"post-3524","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-europe-travel","8":"tag-barcelona-attractions","9":"tag-spain-travel","10":"entry"},"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3524","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3524"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3524\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3525"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3524"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3524"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3524"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
![\"sculpture](\"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/07\/stone-dancers.jpg\")
<\/p>\n![\"dancing](\"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/pix\/barcelona2.jpg\")
I had read in a guidebook that on Sundays at noon local Barcelonians gather together to dance the Sardana in the square by the Barcelona Cathedral in the Gothic Quarter where my hotel was conveniently located. The Sardana was on my \u201cto-see\u201d list, but I only had one Sunday in Barcelona and I wanted to spend the day hanging out in Gaudi\u2019s \u201cmust-see\u201d Parc Guell on the other side of town.<\/p>\n![\"band](\"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/pix\/barcelona3.jpg\")
When I wasn\u2019t watching the dancers\u2019 feet in exasperation, I found myself alternately intrigued by an elderly man in one of the larger circles and two young couples who had formed their own circle on the periphery.<\/p>\n![\"feet](\"https:\/\/travelthruhistory.com\/pix\/barcelona1.jpg\")
While tourists streamed in and out, I stayed for the entire performance that lasted almost two hours. At one point a Sardanista, who \u201cworked the crowd\u201d to solicit donations for the local Sardana organization, accidentally hit me in the back with her foot. I was fine, but profusely apologetic, she kept coming back to me every fifteen minutes to assure herself that I was okay. After the performance she told me, through her French-speaking friend (I know some French), that I must return the following day (Sunday) at noon for the next Sardana performance.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/cache-graphicslib.viator.com\/graphicslib\/thumbs360x240\/44832\/SITours\/wine-tasting-and-shopping-with-lunch-from-barcelona-in-barcelona-405686.jpg\")