Chapter 31: Chapter 31

Sophie drove uncomfortably fast for Barton winding her way along the

sinuous autoroute that led to the Spanish frontier some twenty kilometres

south of Biarritz. It had taken a little effort, but Sophie had finally persuaded

Barton to take time to visit some of the recent and more remarkable architectural

achievements in nearby Spain.

As an architect specialized in interior design, Sophie worked with her father’s

architectural firm, Michael Emerson & Partners, as an independent associate in

London. Emerson was known for the design of the famous Dubai Bank building,

one of the more startling landmarks in the Emirate.

Their first stop was Getaria, a small fishing port of two and a half thousand

inhabitants on the Basque coast, fifteen kilometers south of San Sebastian, where

Sophie planned to start their tour with a visit to the recently opened Balenciaga

Museum.

Cristóbal Balenciaga Eizaguirre, who was to become one of the world’s most

famous couturiers in fashion history, was born in Getaria in 1895. His clients

included Jackie Kennedy, Helena Rubinstein, the Duchess of Windsor and the

Spanish royal family. The museum, a massive block of glass and granite glinting

under the summer sunshine, was situated on the flank of a small hill overlooking

the picturesque fishing port.

The left wing of the museum was the Aldamar Palace, not really a palace, but a

large summer house that had belonged to the Marquis Casa de Torres, the

grandfather of Queen Fabiola of Belgium. When Balenciaga was a child his mother

took in sewing for the marquis who was to become one of the couturiers most

important clients.

The ultra-modern architecture of the museum, perched above the small port,

seemed incongruous to Barton, though the idea Getaria remember its world famous

S

son with a suitable monument was perfectly normal. Another of the town’s sons

would certainly live longer in history than Balenciaga: Juan Sebastián Elkano, the

first sea captain to circumnavigate the globe. Ferdinand Magellan’s second in

command, who when Magellan was killed in the Philippines took command of his

ship, returning to Spain in 1522 with just seventeen survivors of the two hundred

and forty one men expedition that had set out in 1519.

The museum, designed by the Cuban architect Julián Argilagos, was certainly

interesting, as was its contrast with the nineteenth palace adjoining it.

Sophie told Barton of the stories and ugly scandals that surrounded Mariano

Camio, the mayor of Getaria, who was behind the idea of building a museum to

house Balenciaga’s works in 1987. At the outset the project was mired in

controversy and accusation: sketches made by the couturier disappeared, as did two

pairs of gloves, one in white leather, the other in velvet, and a number of silk

scarves. To make matters worse the architect was accused of megalomania.

Finally, the design of the museum was finally awarded to the Cuban, a close friend

of the mayor, and according to certain stories his lover. The project was however,

marred by the scandals; misappropriation of public funding, the dismissal of

Argilagos, and the endless delays.

Camio headed the company designated to carry out the construction, in addition

he was appointed deputy president of the Balenciaga Foundation’s and director of

the museum. The construction, initially budgeted at six million euros, rose to

twenty one million, leaving the foundation in debt to the tune of one million eight

hundred thousand euros.

Whether the stories were exaggerated or not, Barton found the Baroque intrigues

fascinating, but what surprised him most was the dimension and the extravagance

of the museum, which had certainly cost the Spanish tax payer, not forgetting

Brussels, a pretty fortune.

After an excellent fish lunch in the old port they continued their journey to

Burgos, where Sophie planned to show Barton the newly opened Museo de la

Evolucion Humana. She had contributed to the design of the museum’s different

levels and the creation of its exhibit rooms.

From Getaria, the drive took an hour and a half, first over the recently build

highway that cut through the Basque Mountains in a series of tunnels and

spectacular viaducts. They soon left the all-pervading greenery of the Basque

landscape, suddenly emerging on a sun drenched plateau. After bypassing

Pamplona they soon neared the outskirts of the historic city Burgos.

There traffic was light as the heat of the early afternoon sun reflected off the

autopista ahead. As far as the eye could see the city was surrounded by cereal

country, the crops had already been harvested leaving a golden yellow stubble

across a landscape broken only by a series of small wooded hills.

Barton impressed by the region’s infrastructure, which must have been built at

great cost, and noted whatever the effects of the ongoing economic crisis Spain

would be left with a highly modern system of highways.

101

Burgos, like many Spanish cities, was compact with the cathedral the focal point

of the old town. Sophie knew her way around the city having frequently visited it

during the construction of the museum, which did not prevent Barton from

pointing to the rose coloured road direction signs that pointed the way to the

Museo.

It took less than ten minutes to reach the museum where Sophie parked the car in

the underground garage and led the way up to the esplanade and the offices of the

curator. There they were met by José Velasquez, one of the co-directors, for a

guided tour of the museum and its exhibits.

The complex, estimated to have cost almost one hundred million euros, had been

inaugurated just two months previously by Queen Sofía and was still going through

its teething problems. The complex, designed by Juan Navarro Baldeweg,

consisted of a three buildings clad in glass and aluminium: the Museum of Human

Evolution, the Human Evolution Research Centre, and the Congress Centre and

Auditorium.

Velasquez explained the design was a representation of the geological or

paleontological aspects of the archaeological site, which Barton had not yet visited

and had some difficulty imagining. To his untrained eye building seemed vast, out

of scale given the number and size of the exhibits. It was reminiscent of the

Balenciaga museum, extravagantly built, regardless of cost. It was an immense

glasshouse, the unoccupied spaces of which were more than vast: stairwells, halls

and corridors. It was an architect’s dream, where the question of budgets had

evidently been relegated to some obscure bureau in Castilla-Leon’s regional

government offices, or filed away in some corner of the Burgos City Hall.

Velasquez, wanting a few words with Sophie on the subject of some unfinished

details, pointed Barton to the exhibits where he could see the cranium and

mandible of Homo heidelbergensis, part of the two hundred original human fossils

on display in the museum, by far the largest collection in the world.

Barton, though he knew little of science and anthropology, found himself deeply

moved in the presence of the five hundred thousand year old skull of Homo

heidelbergensis. As for the rest of the museum it was a sparse didactic presentation

of human prehistory, he felt disappointed, to his mind the number of interesting

exhibits did not warrant the vast scale of the edifice.

The visit finished, they headed for their hotel as Sophie enthused over the piece

of monumental architecture. Barton congratulated her on her accomplishment, very

certainly a reference as far as her career was concerned. He was careful to avoid

voicing his thoughts, which would have certainly hurt Sophie.

The hotel, situated to the west of the old town, was described by the French guide

book as a hôtel de charme. An ancient building tastefully relooked; its original

style retained and set off by a clever choice of contemporary furnishings.

‘You’re not tired Tom?’

‘Of course not,’ he replied knowing that Sophie was eager to show him the sights.

‘Then we’ll visit the cathedral, it’s closed now but we can still admire its style.’

102

103

‘Suits me,’ he said enthusiastically.

‘It’s Spain’s the third most important cathedral. After that I know a little

restaurant.’

The early evening sun reflected from the white limestone walls of the cathedral. It

was magnificent. The construction of the Gothic-style Catedral de Burgos had

commenced in 1221, and was not completed until 1567. During the intervening

three hundred odd years, different architects added diverse elements to the edifice

and in equally varying styles.

Barton wondered how long the Museo de los Humanos or the Balenciaga

Museum would last. Not long, it was a simple question of materials. Elliot Stone

had once told him that architects worked for politicians and politicians knew

nothing of architecture. Their ideas reflected the societies in which they lived in,

with little or no thought given to durability. What counted was now and the next

election.

‘A penny for your thoughts,’ asked Sophie.

‘Nothing, just thinking…,’ he replied, before admitting, ‘Well, I was only

wondering how long the Museo de los Humanos would last?’

Sophie shrugged. ‘It would last longer if we could build it with more durable

materials, but that costs money, lots of it.’

‘And they don’t have it?’

‘No, you can see what has happened to Spain, the result of spending money it

doesn’t have.’

It was hot, still in the upper twenties, the heat of the day radiating from the

massive walls of the ancient city.

‘Let’s go eat,’ said Sophie grabbing his arm.