You know the world’s gone mad when you start your day being overtaken by a boat..
Before going to Figueres we thought we make a short detour round the bay of Roses and to see Empuriabrava.
Empuriabrava is an altogether mad place, originally built on a swamp, it was transformed into a massive tourist complex of villas and 5,000 private moorings, which front onto a network of some 24 km of navigable waterways. It must have cost the earth to create. It’s got a population of about 8,000 in winter, but rises to 80,000 in the heat of summer and is the largest residential marina in Europe.
In Figueres we planned to visit the Dalí Museum, which is the birthplace of Salvador Dalí, the prominent Spanish surrealist, best known for his striking and bizarre images. Designed by Dalí himself on the ruins of the old municipal theatre, the museum plunges you into the painter’s mind thanks to his most complete collection, on a journey through the strangest artefacts you can imagine.
Dalí was highly imaginative, and also enjoyed indulging in unusual and grandiose behaviour. His eccentric manner and attention-grabbing public actions sometimes drew more attention than his artwork.”
Nevertheless, it’s an impressive collection, and defies the standard ‘canvas on a wall’ approach. In the strange outside/inside main entrance is an old Cadillac (reported to be owned by Al Capone and used by Dali to take his dead wife for a last drive).
Unsurprisingly, the whole place is surreal. However, some of his best known pieces were not inside, the one with the melting clock faces and swans reflecting elephants.
Nor an old favourite of mine the Metamorphosis of Narcissus but that’s in Tate Britain.
The sheer volume of work was amazing too, he must have worked non-stop to churn it all out.
But after an hour or two of browsing I left thinking yes, he was undoubtedly very, very talented, he was definitely MAD. But overall I felt a slightly underwhelmed and not as wow’d as I expected.
We parked Charlie at a free spot in supermarket carpark with 10 other motorhomes, who were all happy campers, until some yobbos came around at midnight to generously share a few of their favourite Gangster Rap tunes. Turned up to max volume their boot mounted sub woofers belted out rubbish that certainly wouldn’t make the Eurovision Song Contest. Fortunately it didn’t last long as they disappeared smartish before the local rozzers came by to see what all the racket was.
