The (Lack of) Rain in Spain

In the interests of keeping the excitement up in the blog -- can't you feel the tension building already just by reading that sentence? -- I'm going to post about each day in Barcelona separately (though I will combine the few hours I was there Friday night with Saturday to expedite things a bit.)


So I got to the airport in Brussels without incident, and breezed through check in and security. After about a 90-minute flight, I was in Barcelona, and despite it being about 8 p.m., it was still probably 30 degrees celsius (that means hot to you Yanks.) I took a train into the city, hopped on the metro, and was at my hotel on Avigunda de Parallel, near the district called El Ravel, by about 9 p.m. I ditched my bags and after a bit of consultation of the map to figure out where I was, went wandering through the city. The photo to the right is my hotel room. All of it. No joke.

I went first to La Rambla, which is probably Spain's most famous street, where traffic flows in two narrow lanes around a wide promenade that features cafes, bird shops, newsstands, plant shops, and myriad street performers. It was a pretty interesting introduction to Catalan culture. After walking about half the length of it -- it gets a bit repetivie as it goes on for almost a mile -- I ducked into the old city, Barri Gotti, which is a veritable rabbit warren of narrow windy streets that are barely wide enough for one car to pass through.


To give you an idea of how narrow the streets are, this is the opera house, and this was as far away as I could get to photographi it. The streets are all the old, Gothic part of the city (gotti, get it... it wasn't a reference to the New York crime family) and they connect a series of chapels, houses and, most importantly for Barcelona, public squares which now house tapas restaurants and cafes. I stopped at a few of these the first night, had a few beers and some delicious food, and in between stood outside a crazy ice-cream store that was jam-packed with Greek football fans watching their team stun France in the Euro 2004 quarterfinals. I can't really comment on the game, because I could only see a corner of the screen, but I saw the end, and the Greek fans were psyched -- their revelry continued well into the night. This was Barcelona; I can only imagine what Athens was like.

I went to bed fairly early that night -- had been up since 6 a.m., and wanted to get an early start Saturday.

SATURDAY A.M.
I got up fairly early, and went ot Casa Guell, one of the Gaudi masterpieces in the city. Tickets were sold out for the mandatory guided tours until well into the afternoon, so I decided to do a modernista architecture walking tour, sort of combined with another walking tour listed in my guide to the city. I walked and walked and walked in 35 degree heat, and saw impressive building after impressive building, including some pretty stunning Gothic churches.


Several hours into the walk, though, everything else I had seen was put in perspective when I came across two of the most impressive examples of architecture I've ever seen, both by Gaudi, again. Le Pedrera (aka as Casa Milla, I think) and Casa Battlo were probably my favorite things of the trip. The design is quirky and playfun and fun, but ultimately utilitarian and brilliant. Gaudi's use of ventilation and natural light were amazing, and his buildings are truly works of art. Of course, on the rooftop garden of Le Pedrera, which is like some bizarre nightmare filled with gnomes and ghouls and elves, my camera battery ran out. Sigh. (And it's rechargeable, so I couldn't just buy new ones.)

I continued the tour for a bit until I got to La Sagrada Familia, this massive cathedral that was Gaudi's last work before he died. Except it's not finished. Work began in the 1880s, and continues today. The RC church in Barcelona has decided that it will only be funded by the donations of visitors, so I guess that limits the pace of construction somewhat.

Anyway, upon seeing this church close up, I knew I had to go back to the hotel and recharge the battery. So I did. While it was charging I went back to La Rambla and had lunch -- paella this time -- at a cafe. When the waiter asked if I wanted a small or a large beer, I looked around and saw everyone was drinking from pretty large steins, clearly more than a pint. Figuring that was the large, I replied "grande, por favor." Memo to my readers: When in Spain, don't ask for a large beer! The thing he brought me was so big I had to use two hands to lift it. I was at the cafe nursing this beer for like 90 minutes almost. I think it must have been three or four pints.

After finally polishing that off, I went back to the hotel, got my camera battery, and headed back to a point beyond the cathedral to resume my tour. (I opted to go back to the Cathedral the next day because I wanted to do it justice. More on that in the next post.) I continued wandering, and eventually found myself back in the old town, where I had dinner at a bar that seemed kind of empty. Turned out to be a big ex-pat soccer bar, and by the time I was done eating I was completely surrounded (to the point of not really being able to leave) by Swedes and Dutchmen (and women) gearing up for their quarterfinal match, which I gladly stayed and watched. After about four hours of drinking with a bunch of Swedes (and a few Brits who seemed to be merely trying to atagonize the Dutch and, ahem, befriend the Swedes) I had to call it a night. Oh, Holland won on penalty kicks.

So ends my first day and second night in Barcelona. More to come, including the addition of some photos to this post.