Barcelona: Uno

I get more days off than the average nine-to-fiver, for which I am very grateful. My days off do not roll over, however, and so I was bound and determined to use every one of of them before my opportunity to do so expired on May 29th of this year. In late April, I realized that I had one left that I had no plans for, so hastily got in touch with my friend Ferran. Ferran and I met in grad school. We were not in the same program, but we lived on the same hall in the dorm for a while. He became one of my closest friends and we spent lots of time together before last summer, when he finished his coursework and headed back home to Barcelona. He had been bugging me to visit, so I decided to find out if he was serious about hosting me for a few days. He was. Turns out that a weekend trip to Europe is pretty do-able from the east coast, as Ed and I demonstrated with our jaunt to Paris in April. So the weekend before Memorial Day, I hopped a plane for Spain.

After a smooth, Ambien-dominated plane ride, Ferran picked me up at the airport and we headed immediately to Mount Tibidabo to check out the view. The forecast called for rain, but it was mostly just cloudy as we drove up the narrow, winding road. We stopped at a turnout along the way for a view of Barcelona and the ocean spread out below us:

There is a large church on top of Tibidabo and, of all things, a small amusement park. The carousel, mild-looking "roller coaster," plane on a robotic arm, etc. weren't exactly overrun with customers. Perhaps it was the weather. Anyway, Ferran and I drank coffee and he pointed out interesting areas in the panorama at our feet.

Next stop was Parc Güell . I took a Facebook poll about must-see attraction in Barcelona and everybody said this was a key spot to visit. The park was designed by the revered architect Gaudi and was filled with whimsical features inspired by nature. We wandered under a covered area held up by a series of columns rising up at irregular angles which reminded me either of mushroom stalks or tree trunks, then through a sort of tunnel made to look like a cresting wave from the inside. More walking revealed that roof above the covered area was actually the underside of a large, elevated plaza surrounded by a very long, curving bench decorated with mosaic tiles. There were nice views of the park and the surrounding city from the edges. The park was very nice, but quite crowded. I liked it a lot, and I think if I'd just stumbled upon it without warning I'd have been mightily impressed. As it was, the place had been hyped up so much that I was a tiny bit disappointed. Honestly, I don't think the Garden of Eden could have lived up to all the praise my friends heaped upon Parc Güell.

Plaza bordered by a bench in the Parc

After lunch and a much-needed shower at Ferran's parents' house (it is located in a suburb of Barcelona and is beautiful and filled with eastern art), we set off into the city. The clouds had cleared, and it was a good thing, because Ferran had planned a walking route that can most loosely be described as comprehensive. (It ended up lasting about six hours.) We started at the famous Sagrada Familia cathedral, another brainchild of Gaudi's. It is still very much under construction with no end in sight. Many people have said that it looks like it is melting, and I can't disagree. I liked it, but it was hard to label it a "cathedral" in my head, as it was so advante garde. (I went into several other cathedrals later which were beautiful and much more traditional.) The line to go in was enormous, so we didn't even try.

Sagrada Familia, with its ever-present cranes

Next, we walked along a wide, tree-lined avenue between streets for a while. There were benches and playgrounds scattered here and there, and it was all very  nice. Then we turned down a narrower street and Ferran announced that we were in Gracia, a very popular neighborhood of late. Gracia was, for all intents and purposes, a barrio; the buildings were all two or three stories high and left little space between for streets. (The picture to the left isn't really as typical example since there is a sunny cross street so close by. It made this little street seem brighter, whereas most of the rest of the neighborhood was fairly dim.) Still, there were bright murals on the walls and lots of little cafes. Further, the longish stretches of cobblestone were punctuated by open squares in which churches, basketball courts, cafes, and playgrounds drew people to spend the afternoon. Ferran said that the squares were what allowed the barrio to breathe. The place felt very friendly and vibrant. Ferran compared it to Brooklyn; it used to be sort of a dodgy area, but it's becoming increasingly hip.

From humble Gracia, we headed for Passeig de Gracia. This was sort of like a leafier, somewhat less crowded version of 5th Avenue here in New York. There were loads of designer stores, as well as two more buildings designed by Gaudi. Ferran walked up to a tall building and pulled a tricky move by telling a hotel conceierge through an intercom that we were guests in room #2. Fooled, the concierge unlocked the main door of the building. We went inside, giggling, and took the elevator straight to the roof where we gazed down on Plaza Catalunya, a large, fountain-adorned square. 

Next stop: Las Ramblas. This is a very famous shopping street that has turned very touristy, unfortunately. Apparently it used to be really well known for selling pets, and tourists could gawk at iguanas, ferrets, and tropical birds as they strolled between the graceful trees. But there's a law against that now, and most of the little kiosks sell either postcards/keychains/t-shirts or flowers. I had read that this place was a haven for pickpockets, and I could see why: It was packed with people, and I heard more Italian and French than Spanish. Ferran pointed out prostitutes lounging around here and there, too; it's not legal in Spain and they didn't look like prostitutes, but apparently it's a huge problem in this particular district. There was a lovely tile mosaic by Miro in the middle of the street, which we stumbled upon unexpectedly. It sort of reminded me of the way the Gaudi buildings were just scattered throughout this beautiful city, where art is part of the landscape instead of being consigned only to museums. We turned into a covered market called La Boqueria, where wares from fruit to chocolate to hocks of smoked ham were piled everywhere, but it was so crowded we didn't spend much time. This was too bad, as I'd have liked to wander around for a bit. I love that kind of thing. Ferran says that very few locals shop there anymore, as the crowds have gotten too bad.

Giant Miro mosaic on Las Ramblas

Hanging pig parts in La Boqueria

Rambla del Born at night

We walked through the Gothic section of town next. It reminded me of a rabbit warren, with dark, narrow streets that all seemed to smell like urine. Somehow, it managed to be both pleasant and spooky at the same time. Interesting as it all was, I was pleased, to emerge on the beach, an area called Barceloneta, after about 20 minutes of tortuous meandering. The sun was just beginning to think about setting, and so I was very surprised to see a clock showing that it was almost 9:00! Ferran confirmed that this was correct; it stays light very late in Barcelona in summer. We walked along a stretch of beach lined with hotels, sand volleyball courts, and stacks of lounge chairs ready to be rented to patrons the next day. Dinner was at a fantastic seafood restaurant near the harbor with a beautiful view of the water and the city. We ordered a bunch of things to try, but my favorite by far was the paella. I also discovered that a fish called hake a) exists, and b) is delicious. Stuffed, we wandered back through another neighborhood called Rambla del Born, which was only slightly less populated now that it was night. The streetlights, which I had hardly noticed during the day, were beautiful.

Somehow, our route took us back through the Gothic quarter again, where Ferran showed me an eerie reminder the not-so-distant violence in Spain's past. During the Civil War, Spanish and Catalan people fought in this city. During one battle, Spaniards chased a group of Catalans through the narrow corridors of the Gothic quarter. The Catalans raced toward an ancient church, knowing that inside it they would find sanctuary from the Spanish bullets. Most of them were too late. They were gunned down feet away from the doors. The church's facade is still pockmarked with bullet holes. Most other walkers wandered right by the wall, either uninformed or unmoved by its past. I felt lucky to have Ferran as a tour guide.

Bullet holes outside the church door

We had a quick beer, but my long night and longer day were beginning to catch up with me. We caught a train back to Ferran's suburb and I fell into bed a little after 2:00 in the morning (Spanish time), wondering what could possibly be on the agenda for tomorrow since we had seen virtually the whole city already.