Berkley Center

“Unfinished”—Season 6, Episode 3 of How I Met Your Mother (my favorite show to watch on Italian Netflix)—begins in the usual way: with a boring speech on architecture from protagonist Ted Mosby. This time, however, the subject matter is shocking. Barcelona’s Sagrada Familia, Ted tells his students, would have been artist Antoni Gaudi’s masterpiece. Instead, it was left unfinished when the Gaudi died suddenly as the result of a tragic bus accident.

I’ve seen the episode plenty of times before, but now—as a result of this new double-life where I spend my weekends traveling the world—I know exactly what Ted is talking about. The Sagrada Familia is a strange, stunning, absolutely bizarre artistic hodgepodge that features Gothic architecture, a modern design, and a UNESCO World Heritage site designation. Although Gaudi claimed he was in “no hurry” to finish construction, the changes made to his original plans in the 90 years since his death have been the source of constant controversy. For Barcelona, the Church of the Holy Family has become an emblem of religious values and geographical pride and a hub for worshippers, art historians, and study abroad students alike. “So distinctive is the building’s silhouette,” wrote a New York Times reporter in 1991, “that it has come to symbolize Barcelona itself.”

Staring up at the multicolored stained glass inside the Sagrada Familia, I attempted to contextualize the paradox that has taken shape in contemporary Barcelona, a city torn between taking pride in a basilica consecrated by Pope Benedict XVI and raging against the potential corruption of its greatest artist’s masterpiece. Then, one week later, I found myself standing in front of a much more disturbing symbol of segmentation: the Berlin wall.

In Barcelona, I struggled to understand life in a city divided by two conflicting values; in Berlin the division was close enough to touch. I had learned about the history and legacy of the wall in high school history class, but actually standing in front of it was both cathartic and unsettling. My weekend in the city felt strangely familiar, a unique opportunity to connect with the German and Jewish parts of my heritage. This made our trip to the wall, which is still standing in part of the city, much more powerful. Like Gaudi’s masterpiece, the canvas that is the Berlin Wall is forever incomplete. This remnant of an unimaginably horrible time is covered art—bright flowers, hand-painted poetry, world leaders locked in a controversial embrace—that memorializes the struggles and celebrates the endurance of a city that still bears the scars of some of modern history’s most gruesome events.

My most recent moment of discovery in the realm of divisive citywide values was manifested in a less serious (but far from casual) event: Fiorentina vs. Tottenham. In the days leading up to our first soccer game in Florence, tensions were running high throughout the city; rumor had it that no one could take alcohol out of a store or bar the day of the game, presumably to prevent violence between the two sides (oddly enough, the constant threat of sports-related brawls felt perfectly normal after years of cheering for Philadelphia teams). Florence, a city steeped in intellectual Renaissance values and centered around an enormous cathedral, had never felt edgy or aggressive before. But as the Florentine flags waved and someone across the stadium set off a huge flare, the incredible passion of the Italian fans was clear. For Fiorentina fans, calcio (football) is both an art, and a vital metric for success in the national and international landscape. Many Florentines are religious, but football has its own spirituality. Ultimately, the intensity with which Florentines value and support their favorite sport was not enough; Fiorentina tied 1-1 with Tottenham, and neither group of fans got a happy ending.

I doubt that any of the complex value systems I’ve encountered within the last month in Barcelona, Berlin, and Florence will be perfected, or even completed in the next 10 years. But, if it’s any comfort, neither will the Sagrada Familia.