In no particular order:
An ‘expensive’ bottle of wine at the fancy wine store costs less than 5 Euros. A solidly good bottle is about 2.50 Euros.
Wine with lunch.
Tapas y sangria.
All social life takes place on one of the many squares or plazas. The only time you go inside is to sleep.
Many of the buildings are older than America… but they are used everyday.
Speaking spanish.
Queso, queso y mas queso.
‘Yes’ is said in multiples of 3… si, si, si. Each ‘si’ with a slightly different inflection. ‘No’ is said only once.
There is an abundance of girl skateboarders. There’s really nothing cooler than a girl on a board.
You know how you tell yourself “Oh, I would totally do that if only i had more time”? Since living in Barcelona, I’ve realized that’s just not true about some things. Given all the time in the world, there are still some things i just don’t want to do.
When we were planning our trip, I imagined some kind of romanticized meal planning… my days filled with going to the open air market for just-picked vegetables and fruits, the carnisserie for just-slaughtered meat, the wonderfully stinky shop for a nicely-aged cheese, and finally to the patisserie for a just-baked after-dinner treat.
Who was i kidding? I loathe the grocery store under normal circumstances so i don’t know why i thought making a day of it would be interesting.
Just last week i was following J around the market and he turned to ask my opinion on something (did we get enough tomatoes?) and i froze. Like it was a pop quiz and i hadn’t been studying. When i’m forced to do the shopping, I feel like i’m being judged… judged for my choices, and not just by the other shoppers, but by the tomatoes, and the apples, and the dead chicken in the glass case. Its clearly irrational, and bordering on phobic. Should i try to conquer it? Or just allow it be one of my many eccentricities?
Yes, that scenario seems so romantic in the movies, and yes, I have plenty of time to realize it. But I will not do it. Or if i have to, I certainly won’t like it.
And then you get all this stuff home and you’re supposed to put all of it together and create something delicious. I could stare for hours into a fully stocked fridge, and still not be able to make the pieces match up.
Lucky for me that J not only doesn’t mind doing the shopping and cooking, he looks forward to it. Guess he’s a little crazy too.
This building was lit up in beautiful red flood lights one night. The next it was decked out with white christmas lights in the ever changing city that is Barcelona.
Ever seen the movie Dark City? Where the Gotham-like city’s buildings and landscape change overnight as people sleep, creating an entirely new experience and landscape?
Well, I’m staring to think that movie took place in Barcelona. Or maybe, Barcelona was the inspiration?
Barcelona transforms itself overnight and becomes a new city everyday.
Every afternoon, I pick a different direction to walk and I feel like I’ve seen every inch of this city. And everyday I’m amazed at the fluidity of the transformations.
Fully operating restaurants emerge (seemingly overnight) from spaces that have been unoccupied. New doors open every day revealing glorious new things to see and buy and ponder. It happens in reverse also… stores that have been open since i’ve been here, close their doors without a whisper.
This has never been more apparent than in the last week. Yesterday, December 1 the city came alive with the Navidades spirit.
There is a new hundred foot sculpture in the middle of a plaza that resembles a Christmas tree made out of barbed wire. There is a new giant installation art piece in the middle of another plaza. My best guess is that its a nativity scene but don’t quote me on that… artist license and all that.
The city has strung lights up on every street. And not just piddly strings of flashing bulbs wrapped around a telephone pole. These are gorgeous light sculptures strung across the road and the designs vary from street to street They started stringing the wire for them a month ago (so i saw this one coming) but never realized the scope of the project. Seriously, EVERY SINGLE street.
The city also hosts little markets in every neighborhood where the local designers sell their handmade goodies (sound familiar?). Within each neighborhood has sprung a little village of little wooden houses in which the vendors display their wares.
All of this gives the impression of a living, breathing city and man, I love being a part of it!
So for as many times as i’ve walked around this city, I’ll never tire of it, cause its a different city EVERY TIME.
J decided to take Thursday and Friday off work to take advantage of American Thanksgiving so we took a trip down Dali lane (in other words, up to the Costa Brava). First stop was Figueres to visit the Museo de Dali. Dali created and designed every single thing in the place. The museum itself is a really beautiful building, and as we wandered through it we certainly got a sense of what a loon Dali was.
Our second stop was Cadaques, a teeny tiny little town further up the coast. We had heard that its pretty rocking during the summer months (and i don’t wonder why), but it was pretty sleepy while we were there (way, way off season). Most of the restaurants and stores were shuttered for the winter but we managed to find a few things to do. On Saturday we wandered around the town, trying to get lost, and realized that all roads lead back to the main square. We walked around for about 3 hours and covered most of the town (including navigating slate streets set at a 45 degree angle, no heels on this trip).
Portlligat is an even teenier tinier little town right next to Cadaques (15 minute walk) and this is where Dali spent most of his adult life. We were able to tour his house which is unbelievable. As we reached each room, I muttered “This guy was crazy”. Eventually, our very sweet tour guide mentioned a Dali quote… “The only difference between me and a crazy person is that I’m not crazy.”
Well said, Dali. Well said.
We traveled by train to Figueres (stopping at every single stop for 2 hours) and then got on a bus to travel the rest of the way to Cadaques (on a road that makes Highway 1 seem flat and straight). If that bus is the only way into Cadaques, I will not be back. Which is too bad because its really beautiful.
We got smart on the way back… still had to take the first bus (me looking straight ahead, following the middle white line, and taking full deep breaths… for 40 minutes). But then bought tickets on the fast train home (4 euros more but only 5 stops total). Felt like heaven.
Since we’ve been in Barcelona, J and I have developed our own brand of Spanglish. This has resulted from one of two things happening: Getting confused and stumbling over our English AND our Spanish and/or; Desperately needing a sort of code to navigate our way around the city.
We find them absolutely hilarious and extremely crucial. However, you probably won’t. Couple examples:
The nook: You have heard about the nook, right? Earlier post where I’m so excited for this ‘little nook’ tucked away beside an old castle? I thought i had discovered gold? Well, the nook has become a significant point of reference for us. “You go up to the nook and turn left” or “Its in the nook”. I’m sure that cute little plaza has an official Spanish-y name but i have no idea what it is… and really don’t care.
Heaven in a Wedge- Fresh produce, cheese, meat and bread are sold at open air markets (picture a farmer’s market). Shopping in these markets exposes us to bunch of stuff that we’ve never experienced (what the heck is a kilo?, no touching!). You can buy all this stuff at regular grocery stores also but J was determined to tackle this shopping experience. We went to the slowest market we could find and J did an outstanding job. We came home with a basket full of fresh produce, fresh bread, some stuffed peppers, and a block of cheese so divine that after the first bite we were hooked. They called it parmesan… we call it Heaven in a Wedge.
It took us 3 days to turn that wedge into a sliver… and now neither one of us will finish the last of it until we know we’ve got more in the fridge. Heaven in a Wedge is the first item on tomorrow’s shopping list.
The Pantry: Go out our front door, down 10 steps, across the 6-foot wide street, and you find a teeny tiny little corner store that sells pretty much anything you need to finish your meal planning. J has dubbed it ‘The Pantry’ because it is just like searching thru your own pantry without the hassle of planning ahead. “Hey babe, where’s the salt?” “In the Pantry.” There is less distance between our kitchen and their well-stocked shelves than there is total distance in most kitchens. We just consider it an extension of our own apartment.
Cheeseburguesas: There’s a great website called ‘Spotted by Locals’ which has guided us to quite a few gems in Barcelona. One of them is a bar called Betty Ford’s (the name is not considered as ironic here as it does to us statesiders). On our first visit, we were completely wooed by the ambiance, the cutey Australian bartender, and the very simple but yummy cocktails. The menu is also simple: hamburgers served 5 different ways. After being served our very first hamburger at Betty Ford’s, we were hooked. There was 10 minutes of silence while J and I simply chewed and enjoyed. I think at one point J might have hugged his, and i know i blew mine a few kisses.
We dubbed these cheeseburguesas after a slip of the splanglish. We couldn’t think straight through our joy, ‘cheeseburguesa’ slipped out, and it stuck.
These are by far the best cheeseburgers in the world. We’ve tried others, thinking maybe it was a Spanish thing (maybe the cows in Spain are raised on a steady diet of Heaven in a Wedge?), but realized quickly that there is nothing quite like a cheeseburguesa. We have each had 6 in the 6 weeks we’ve been in Spain. And I don’t even like cheeseburgers.
