Soviet Brutalist Architecture That Works: Yerevan's The Cascades

Ladies and gentlemen, presenting: The Cascades

Yerevan's The Cascades, which is where the bus-van tour began, is a masterpiece of Soviet-style Brutalist architecture. What is, or what are -- depending on whether "The Cascades" is one thing or several things -- Yerevan's The Cascades? It is an absolutely massive staircase connecting the residential neighborhoods above the city to the central downtown core. Now, in the post-Soviet era, the massive staircase has been transformed, reconfigured, or decorated -- choose your verb -- with the addition of museum's worth of public art.

It starts with the Alexander Tamanian Statue at the "gateway" to The Cascades.

But there is more art, of varying quality, on display past Mr. Tamanian when you are walking toward the massive staircase.

For me, the star attraction of the art display are the three large (and fat) statues by Colombian artist Fernando Botero. While Mr. Botero himself was somewhat trim (he passed away in 2023), he is known for depicting very rotund figures whether in sculpture, drawing, or painting. Fat people. Fat cats. Fat fruits and vegetables. Even his rendering of Jesus on the Cross shows a rotund Jesus.

I would not have expected to find Boteros in Yerevan, especially since the fat fullness of the statuary contrasts with the deprivation of the Soviet Era when The Cascades were built, but sometimes we find things where we least expect them to be.

Like I never expected to see this.

The bird may be fat, but I don't believe he (or she) (I was not told the preferred pronouns) is a Botero. But definitely in line with the Botero theme.

Time to ascend.

Fortunately, one does not have to walk the stairs of the giant staircase (at least not until the last flight of stairs) to reach the summit. There is an escalator inside.

At each "floor" -- or landing if you want to use staircase terminology -- there is a lookout area where you can walk out and check your progress on the ascent. Fountains at the first such "landing":

And artistic renderings of trees, I presume.

Perspective:

That will give you a sense the amount of territory covered by each interval in the ascent, from landing to landing.

Finally, at the top of where you ascend by escalator is this fountain.

The swimmer/diver motif works well for a fountain high above the rest of the city.

At this point, if you want to reach the summit, you have to climb stairs. No more escalator.

Is this at the summit worth the climb?

Well, if you only had to walk up one flight of stairs and not the whole massive staircase, then I would say "yes." The pillar does betray the Soviet origins of this massive example of the Brutalist school of architecture.

My legs were wearing out after the long day of bus-van touring, so it was time to descend. On the descent, I noticed this:

That is actually one massive sneaker. It's not just that somebody lost a shoe on the climb. I'm estimating three or four feet in length. Just another example of the apparent Armenian shoe fetish about which I learned on this trip.

And here is an elephant trunk emerging from a small hut:

The elephant looks like it is sporting a happy expression. Obviously the elephant is not bothered by the claustrophobia.

Dusk is settling in.

Time to get back to the hotel for the evening.

Unless you want to play in a fountain. They're functioning again all over the city after taking Tuesday off.

Two-Stop Day Trip: Stop 1: Cuernavaca

The palace of Hernán Cortés, conquistador of Mexico. Now repurposed as a museum

What a day for a daytrip.

I booked a daytrip at the hotel. The price was so cheap (800 pesos, which is only about $40 U.S.) that I assume that it was going to be in a huge transit van with a dozen and a half of my fellow turistas. No. It was me, a couple from the Rio Grande Valley of Texas, and the driver/tour guide in a Toyota. I do not understand how such a full-day tour (with a large number of tolls on toll roads) is economically viable, but I'm not complaining.

The first stop was Cuernavaca, a resort town south of Mexico City. Our first stop was supposed to be the beautiful Catedral de Cuernavaca.

Unfortunately, the cathedral grounds were packed -- elbow-to-elbow packed -- with some sort of religious revival celebration singalong thing. I know. Who ever would have though of using cathedral grounds from such sort of religious function.

So on we continued to the historic core of Cuernavaca.

Interesting fun fact about Cuernavaca. Even though "cuerna" is Spanish for horn. And "vaca" means cow. "Cuernavaca" does not mean "cow horn," or "bull horn" even, which would be more accurate. Apparently the name is derived from some word in Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs. Or so I was told. I choose not to believe. I still think it means "cow horn."

The palace of Hernán Cortés now serves as the Museo Regional de los Pueblos de Morelos.

Cuernavaca is in the state of Morelos.  Morelos is this man.

Well, that is a statue of José María Morelos, an important figure in the war for independence from Spain.

Let's have a closer look:

The thing I like about this statue of Morelos is that it looks like it was sculpted by Botero. In case the reference is a big obscure, Botero is the famous Colombian artist known for depicting everything and everyone as morbidly obese. People. Dogs. Cats. Vegetables. Christ on the Cross. Everything. Morelos looks perfect for the Botero treatment.

On the grounds of the former Cortés palace are some archaeologically significant rocks:

They date back to a time period when rocks could be archaeologically significant.

This is my tour group:

We only had about 20 minutes of "on our own" time in Cuernavaca. If I had more time -- and, more importantly, if I had known what was inside the museum -- I would have paid the 90 pesos admission cost. Apparently they have Diego Rivera murals inside. Yes. There is no shortage of Diego Rivera murals in Mexico City. But why not see the ones in Cuernavaca? I can't see those back in Mexico City.

Instead, I wandered the Plaza de Armas area and then the shopping stalls behind the Morelos statue.

I'm a terrible tourist because I never buy anything from these people who are -- truth be told -- dependent on rich tourists, often gringos, to eke out a living. And I provide no help.

But I am polite about it.

And here are the obligatory letters:

Every city in Latin America bigger than a dozen souls has their letters out there, just waiting for an instagram photo. I don't instagram. I blog. So the "Cuernavaca" letters will have to make do with a blog rather than an instagramming.

So it is time to flee Cuernavaca for the next stop on the two-stop daytrip. Cuernavaca was just a throw-in. The real reason for booking this tour was the second stop.

The Museo Nacional de Belles Artes is "Temporarily" Closed. Again.

The butt's eye view of a Botero horse outside the Museum of Contemporary Art.

One of the museums I so wanted to visit on my first trip to Santiago was the Museo Nacional de Belles Artes. Unfortunately, it was closed due a museum workers' strike. Yes, it was a strike of just the workers at Chile's public museums. (I don't think it was limited to the public museums of Santiago although I would guess that Santiago has a lot of the country's public museums.) This time the museum was closed again. "Temporarily." Which I think means: we heard Spretnak was coming to town.

I believe this is the Plaza Benjamín Vicuña Mackenna. So let's put a flower in our hair. We're going to San Francisco.

The Iglesia de San Francisco, to be precise.

I believe that there is a Church of St. Francis in just about every city across the globe with any sort of Catholic population. And in the Spanish-speaking world, a Church of St, Francis is an Iglesia de San Francisco.

First, let's say "hello" to a new old friend:

San Expedito. The patron saint of urgent causes. Literally. And the patron saint to whom we pray for intercession for success in lawsuits. San Expedito was a Roman centurion in Armenia (then a much larger swath of land going from present day Armenia, through the eastern third of Turkey, into the Levant of northern Lebanon and Syria). He converted to Christianity and was promptly martyred. killed by Roman officials who did not much care for the upstart religion.

This is the altar of the Iglesia de San Francisco:

I knew I was not going to be able to go into the Museo Nacional de Belles Artes as it, once again, was "temporarily" closed. But I thought I could at least snap a few photos of its beautiful exterior.

First, was the MAC Museo de Arte Contemporáneo side of the museum.

It does have a Botero horse outside.

Botero is the famous Colombian artist renowned for depicting the subjects of his sculptures, paintings and drawings as being extremely rotund. Botero himself, ironically, was of normal weight.

The Museum of Contemporary Art was open, but I did not go in due to my prejudice against "contemporary" art. This is not the time for a rant on my belief that "modern" art, or its evil twin, "post-modern" art, is nothing but ugly handicrafts done by talent-free brats who have labelled themselves "artist." I'll save that rant for a later time.

Across from the closed entrance -- which is an oxymoron I believe -- of the Museo Nacional de Belles Artes was this sculpture in Parque Forestal: Monumento a la Gloria.

And, as seen from the Monumento a la Gloria, here is the unopened Museo Nacional de Belles Artes:

Here it is again. By itself.

And in the Parque Forestal:

This is the Castillo Forestal. It's not a Castle. It's a restaurant. Given its location, in the beautiful Parque Forestal across from the National Museum of Fine Arts, I would guess it's at least a little upscale.

We will end the day's tour with this sculpture outside the shuttered (to me) Museo Nacional de Belles Artes:

It reads, on the base, "Unidos En La Gloria Y En La Muerte." United in Glory and in Death. Hear that, Museo Nacional de Belles Artes. You've been closed twice now for me. You're dead to me. No glory. Just death.