Another direct quote from Mr. Munchkin.
One of the very few days that there was rain (and it stayed mostly on the Plain, while we were in Spain - sorry, couldn't resist), we decided to go to Figueres and visit the Theatre-Museum Dali.
It was the theatre in Dali's hometown. He and his wife bought it after it had been turned into ruins during the Spanish Civil War, and they turned it into a museum to house some of Dali's works. And Dali, too ... eventually. His tomb is in the basement, surrounded by incredible jewels of Dali's design.
The outside of the building is covered in what looks like little golden nuggets. But it turns out that they are supposed to be the local meat pies. Yeah. It gets weirder.
The place is covered in HUGE murals, filled with installations specifically made for the museum, and the sounds of Dali's clanking, unfolding, mechanical pieces fill the air.
While I thoroughly enjoyed myself (and spent more than a few euros just to see the coin operated mechanical pieces unfold) ... I think that it was eventually too much sensory overload for everyone. Eventually, we escaped back into the rain, and ran away from the headless dolls and tortured sculptures that lurched over the balconies of the Museum.
The town of Figueres is charmingly decrepit...but even that wasn't enough to erase some of the nightmare images conjured up by Dali.
In the end, I watched the storm clouds roll away at the end of the day, while perched on the balcony. Perfect antidote to the too much-i-ness of Dali.