Montserrat

10 words I never thought I'd say: "I spent all day at a monastary and loved it." Montserrat (i.e., "the jagged mountain") is a Catholic monastary high in the mountains north of Barcelona. It's been there in some form since the 9th century A.D. and is so steep that you have to take a cable car to get there. In fact the mountain is so steep and rugged that it's one of Europe's premier mountain climbing spots. All of this, of course, begs the question: how in the world did they built this place? Monserrat was built before anyone had ever heard of Petzl (a mountain climbing company). Assuming that there weren't cable car systems in the middle ages and that pack mules can't walk vertically, I think the monks must have prayed the building materials up the mountain.
The buildings at Montserrat, like all of the churches we have seen so far, are ornately beautiful. Inside the basilica, for example, were endless corridors full of mosaics of the Saints, statues, and crosses. Amongst these relics is the mountain's most famous object: la virgen negra (rumored to have been created Luke and carried by Peter in AD 50). Rashmi and I were able to catch a cadre of monks singing chants in the basilica under this statute. Unfortunately, we were unable to take pictures during the concert, as a signed advised us not to use cameras and also "You are in a Basilica; Dress and Act Appropriately!"
We were also able to walk down a narrow mountain path to the Capilla de Sant Joan, which is builting hanging off of the side of the mountain. As you walk the mile or so to the chapel, statues carved into the side of the mountain depict the stations of the Passion of Christ. The Temptation of Christ was followed by the crowning of thorns and the Crucifiction and so on. This was not an easy walk; the thin air and steep climb made walking feel like sprinting. While Rashmi and I had a hard time with the climb, there were a few ancianos who looked as if they were about to keel over during the hike. Rashmi's perceptive observation: "It's amazing that you can't get a European to work more than 35 hours in a week, but they'll drag themselves up a mountain to go light prayer candles."
We had a few kinks getting back home, but nothing major. We just missed the last cable car down the mountain and had to ride down a track that looked and sounded like the first part of a roller coaster (clack-clack-clack-clack). From there we ended up in a city we'd never heard of, and I had to fumble asking for directions from three 12-year-old girls and their grandmothers. They sent us down some alleys, alongside a highway, and across a bridge until finally -- finally! -- we found the rail station.
Note: At the behest of Mr. LaRoche, I've enabled comments. Let the fun begin.