Ciao!

Barcelona

01.12.2005

My last days in Europe where spent in Barcelona (28-29 December). I stayed on La Rambla, the main prado or promenade sidewalk of downtown, and spent the days wandering the streets of the city. Barcelona's a brilliant mix of old & new, a city proud of its 2,000 years of history, but simultaneously looking to the future.

Arrived at Aeroport del Prat, about midnight. With neither an Italian exit stamp, nor a Spanish entry stamp on my passport. But straight into the airport, minutes after the last bus shuttles to downtown had left. So I took a €22 taxi ride to Plaça de Catalunya, from where I walked down La Rambla, looking for my hostel.

Found the Ideal Youth Hostel, which was a huge disappointment. The Asian lady at the counter spoke neither English nor Spanish, and she seemed quite irritated at having to find my booking info. After a half hour, I make my way up to a room, w/ no available bed. When I comment on this, I got a series of protestations, and invitations from the hostess to "just move their stuff" — which I reject. I ended up just walking out, refusing to pay €15/night (plus €10/night for blankets/pillows), and heading out into the December night.

After an hour of wandering from hotel to hotel, looking for one w/ a free room, I was starting to regret my principled decision. But, my perseverance paid off. I found the Hotel Moderno, a three-star, €50/night hotel, just off La Rambla. I decided I was a grown-up, and deserved a decent hotel (w/ wake up service, complimentary breakfast, and the modern, private conveniences of civilized living). Thanks, American Express.

By 2am, I was finally to settle in for the night, after a long, hot shower.

Woke up early, out the door by 8:30am. And made my way through the Barri Gòtic (the Gothic Quarter), the Roman-Medieval heart of the Catalan capital. Worked my way through the narrow alley-streets, through the Plaça de Sant Jaume, beside the Palau de la Generalitat (the seat of Catalan regional government).

Before walking into the Capella de Santa Llúcia, inside Barcelona's breathtaking & somber cathedral. Built in the late 1200s, the cathedral's an amazing example of Catalan Gothic architecture — which emphsized width over height, and a more minimalist aesthetic. I walked through a quiet church, populated only w/ a few kneeling faithful. It was still too early for the elevator up the tower to see the city, so I took the time to wander some more through Barri Gòtic.

Took time to enter the Museu d'Història de la Ciutat. Wow. Housed in what was once the royal court, the same where Columbus recounted his discovery of the 'New World' to Ferdinand & Isabella. The museum's mostly underground, a walking tour of the archeological remains of the Roman city of Barcino, up to the early medieval foundations of what later became an important Mediterranean power in its own right.

Though the days fell between Christmas & New Year, there was a large continent of 8-year-olds touring the museum, led by a couple in Roman dress, leading the kids in Latin phrases. Throughout my stay in they city, I was constantly impressed w/ the important role that history played in daily Catalan life.

Back to the cathedral & up the elevator, for a panoramic view of they city, a few snapshots, and back down. Passed back through the Plaça de Sant Jaume, where in the few hours since I'd passed, a life-size, modern Pessebre Popular had been erected. The pessebre's a tradition introduced by St. Francis Asisi is a collection of everyday people, doing everyday things that, when gathered around the nativity scene, demonstrate the sacred of the humble, simple, everyday life. This was an updated one, w/ life-size cut-outs of the kinds of people you'd see everyday in Barcelona's streets (even tourists).

Then plunged into La Rambla's Mercat la Boqueria, looking for Pinotxo, a small tapas bar advertised in my Lonely Planet guide. I was amazed by the organization of the market, every stand had a number, and arranged spatially by similarities. The organization of a supermarket, combined w/ the traditional market.

After lunch, I started back up La Rambla, stopping into the Palau de la Virreina. There were two exhibits: One, Cartells de la Guerra, a sample of Civil War propaganda posters. Two, Vuelo de Ángel, an exhibit of photographs of world monuments taken from a central angle (based on the theory of how architectural photographs are supposed to be taken) — you've to see it to understand, but it's remarkable.

Then, an afternoon of shopping. Hit several record stores along Carrer dels Tallers, especially pleased to find Discos Castelló, where I picked up some hard-to-find CDs: Los Valencia's Greatest Flops, The Pribata Idaho's Spain Is Pain, La Buena Vida's Los Mejores Momentos, and Nosoträsh's Popemas. Followed by a visit to Corte Inglés a city-block sized department store. Then the enormous Casa del Libro bookstore.

Then I mostly just wandered around, going up through the L'Eixample & Gràcia neighborhoods. Made it to the world-famous Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família. I'm afraid it was a bit of a let down. Perhaps it was the gloomy, grey December afternoon. Or the intrusion of all the construction equipment (the church is 120 years in the making, and perhaps half finished now). Or the fact that I really don't much like Gaudí architecture. But. There it was. I didn't pay to go inside for the tour.

The second thing that impressed me about Barcelona, was it's incredible passion for & variety of art. It was everywhere: architecture, park sculptures, museums. As if the entire city had a designer who put every touch together just so.

Decided to treat myself to a nice meal in L'Eixample, the expansion to the city built in the late 1800s. Before heading to Cine Verdi to watch The Motorcycle Diaries. I'm glad I got to see it in Spanish, w/o distracting subtitles. Whatever you think of Ché, the story of his early youth, setting out to discover his continent, is gripping. I was most impressed w/ how apolitical the movie was (for being a Ché movie) — it was just a buddy road movie of two young, idealistic, naive young men from Buenos Aires who discover the beauty & tragedy of a continent.

Walked back to Plaça de Catalunya & La Rambla, and a midnight walk through the vibrant streets, down past the giant monument to Columbus, towards the Rambla de Mar, recently-built to feed the Barcelona nightlife. And back to my warm, comfortable hotel.

The next day, my last day in Europe (so I thought), I slept in just a bit. Left my bag at the hotel after checkout, while I took one last spin through the city, starting w/ another trip through Barri Gòtic, before jumping on the subway metro after lunch on La Rambla at Restaurant Moka, which had nicely priced, huge portions.

A stop at L'Eixample to find La Pedrera, and other examples of Gaudí modernisme architecture that peppers the area. To be honest, I've no idea how anyone ever wanted to have their home built in one of the tackiest architectural styles ever contrived. But. There it was.

Jumped to the Parc de la Ciutadella, an enourmous city park filled w/ small museums & greenhouses, as well as the city's Parc Zoològic, built on the site of a former fortress (used to suppress Catalan nationalism, not to defend the city). Enjoyed a sunny day's stroll.

Then over to the docks, for a stroll to the Museu d'Història de Catalunya. Another museum dedicated to the history of the region, from its pre-Roman era, to its incorporation into a centralized Spanish Kingdom, to its winning autonomous self-government w/in Spain. What most impressed me about all these museum, and even daily street signs, was that virtually nothing was in Spanish — most things were written in Catalan, and only Catalan. This was a region fiercely proud of its cultural identity, and yet it wasn't joined w/ the xenophobic often associated w/ cultural identity. Remarkable.

Finally made my way back to Hotel Moderno, picked up my pack, and onto the rail line to the airport. A short wait, while reading Henry V, before heading out on Iberia to catch my connecting American flight outa Heathrow. Again, no exit/entry stamp.

Unfortunately, my connecting flight back to Chicago wasn't late at night. But mid-morning. Oops. So. A night of semi-sleep at a closed down Heathrow it was. Once things opened, I took the opportunity for some coffee, and one more book for the flight home — Mark Dunn's Ella Minnow Pea. And thus ended my two weeks in Europe, back in Heathrow where it all began, before a flight back to Chicago, w/ Sam waiting (patiently) to pick me up from a delayed flight.

Posted by Miguel at 10:03 PM

Comments

Posted by: Kim at January 13, 2005 10:31 AM

Posted by: Stephanie at January 16, 2005 07:15 AM