Habla No Mas

Homeward Bound

Literally the word on the street today was that El Papa Benet XVI was coming to town.  I had noticed some to-do yesterday near the Cathedral, and the former San Francisco resident in me assumed it was a gay rights demonstration; I was a little off, apparently.  The Arquebisbat de Barcelona reported that the Pope was coming from Santiago (well, I've been there), and at some point before that he'd been in Lisbon (well, I've been there too), and now that I'm leaving Barcelona El Papa shows up...all I'm saying is if he pops up in Manhattan Beach we know whose lead he's following.  (For all I know he's a blog reader too.)

I marked my final day in B-town with lots of coffee con leche and a return trip to the opera at the Teatro Liceu to see Berg's "Lulu".  I was reminded that German opera is a very different undertaking of the aesthetic, and while I thought that the set design and lighting were fantastic, in the future I pledge Italian allegiance.

Now I'm ready for a little time travel back to California; tomorrow at this time in Barcelona, I'll already be home, and tomorrow at this time in California I'll be on my way, so even though I'm leaving, Barcelona is in my future.

Good Weather And Bad Luck

I spent a consider part of the day back at Parc Guell.  I posted up on this ledge with my salami baguettini and beer and enjoyed the perfect weather and the excellent vantage point.

There was a little people watching to be had...

Ok, a lot of people watching to be had, after which I found a quieter part and took a siesta.

One would be hard pressed to find a main street in Barcelona without a kiosk selling lottery tickets.  Furthermore, salons de recreativo and/or salons juego are aplenty also.  Since the Spanish seem to think they breed luck, I thought I'd see what the deal was.  I went to Bingo Laietana tonight and played a few rounds.  I did not win, and it takes forever and a day to say "66" in Catalan because of all the lispable "s's".

Closed the day out with a walk through Placa Cataluyna which some would say initiates the best part of Barcelona; I would argue, but it is striking at night.  I had tapas at a return spot, and they were entirely delicious and consisted of anchovie stuffed olives, tortilla espanola and veal with garlic and oregano.  (If I had won bingo I could have splurged on dessert; good thing I had a magnum bar in the park.)

From The Observation Deck

The majority of my remaining time in beloved BCN has been spent walking around, which, admittedly, is a lot like the majority of my initial time.  Now, however, I have the pleasure of taking my time and returning to the things and the places that snagged my eye and/or my interest the first time.  As I was wandering today, my mental dialogue was focused on all of the things that I like and love about Barcelona because as my departure date suddenly and mischeviously approaches (the charades time can play on a traveler are borderline obscene), I am trying to configure a summary of sorts for my own benefit.  These observations, are just that, however banal they appear, and in no way disqualify any other place or over-qualify this place; they are but one blogger's persuassions.  Without further fluff, some of the things I like and love about Barcelona, in no particular order as as follows...

I love Brunnell's pastry shop (pictured first).  It's not as sharp a building as some of the more commerical locations but the window displays and smell are to die for.  The proprietor has attempted to give me my pastry du jour for hand carry each time, and I have to ask for a bag so that I can have it with my coffee later to which he nods approval.  I like the lady in her souvenir shop who shared a private joke with me yesterday over some funny intimate wear that I'd bought at another souvenir shop as a gag gift.  I love that people in Barcelona acknowledge each other's existence.  While Portugal was very friendly because people living there seem to be genuinely content with life, Barcelona seems to be very polite in the sense that regardless of who is or is not content people are aware of people.  I've never witnessed so much general decorum from pardon me's on packed metro buses to thank you's and nods of approval.

I like dancing in the streets (for all ages), and I love street muscians.  I love that there are no mosquitoes here because they are private enemy number one.  I love the climate; it makes San Diego look inclement.  I love that you can get fresh squeezed orange juice anywhere anytime, and that this in and of itself is one great example of the quality of life that everyone is entitled to.  From fine dining to casual walk-ups and "fast food", the ingredients are total quality.  That said, I love the wine (especially the crianza's), and the fact that I can grab a can of beer with my lunch the same as I would grab a coke.

I love all of the windows.  I especially love the ones that open up to walk-out terraces.  I love the old ones, the new ones, the stained glass window ones, and even the ones with laundry hanging from them.  I love the architecture.  I love the people watching.  Oh!  The magnificent people watching and all of the opportunities for it from the metro to the parks to the sidewalk cafes and the port.  I love the style of the city.  Everyone here is cool; people express themselves without second guess.  There is lots of color, lots of creativity, lots of indviduality and lots of acceptance

I love the post office (correos).  It is the most pleasant post office experience I've ever had, so I found an excuse to mail something else and return.  They also have great envelopes that are sturdy yet made from recycled materials.  I love the efforts to conserve and be efficient without making it an effort.  I love all of the dogs everywhere.  Number one most popular dog actually seems to be a Boxer (and the Boxers here are big), followed by German Shepherds and then everything else; (sidenote pattern detected: neuturing (by way it's fair to assume spaying) literally does not look to be a priority).

I love the farmacias.  Like the food, they offer across the board quality items (and assistance).  I love all of the gelato spots even if some of them are more icecream than genuine gelato.  I love the baguettes for everything from a five star bread basket to a fast food sandwich stop.  I love the metro system.  It's clean, efficient, ubiquitous and easy to navigate.

I love that I haven't once longed for anything or felt like anything from one of my days is missing.  Even though I am totally alone, I have not felt like it in Barcelona.  I'm starting to get a twinge of melancholy like I'm getting ready to break up with the one who's going to get away--but...I'll be back, BCN; I'll be back.

It Don't Mean A Thing If It Ain't Got That BCN Swing

If you walk just a tad west of my daily coffeeshop in the Passeig Gracia, you hit the Diagonal--both of which are part of L'Eixample district.  The shopping is top-notch (i.e., the shops that don't let you in unless the doorman is expecting you) and the buildings are mostly "Modernista" and the streets are long and wide and easy to cruise (bonus for the navigationally challenged).

I cruised through Diagonal into Lesseps (above) in order to visit an art shop that I'd spied from the 24 bus yesterday.  I snatched up a picture I'm very excited about, provided I can fit it in my suitcase.

The art shop was not the only gem that gleamed my way through the bus window yesterday though.  There was also Cafe Vienes Jazz Club.  I have been hoping to find my way into a jazz club here, and I've discovered that before you can find your way in, you must find your way there; needless to say, my previous attempts had been spoiled.  Not to be thwarted in today's effort, I had my coffee and then walked into Diagonal to check out Cafe Vienes (below).  Good thing.  The sign indicated you would likely be out of luck without a reservation.

So I put my name in with the bartender.  He asked if it was para "comer" (to eat) or para "tocar" (to take [as in the music]).  Since the prix fix was 120euros, and the sandwich shop down the street has my number, I opted for tocar with the presumption of beber as well.  I'm glad I showered before returning.  The place was utterly top-notch, perhaps one of the classiest events I'd been to.  All the same, which these Catalonians seem to be gifted at, it was laid back, very comfortable and totally enjoyable.  The guy making the ivory sweat was best of all, but the bassist and the vocalist were great, and of course, my crianza was too.

Gaudi And Guell: Gaudi Resuscitated

Thought you'd seen the last of Gaudi?  Oh not so, blog reading friend--so not so; so, I heard through the Barcelona grapevine (life on the streets--you know how it goes) that there was not only another amazing park with spectacular views of the entire city but also a park boasting more Gaudi architecture.

Not to be outdone by the hordes of other people finding this attraction so attractive, I did the appropriate metro research and hopped the 24 bus up to Park Guell.  I would like to take a moment here to thank my considerate bus driver.  For a good half a block after de-bussing I was wondering why the bus driver kept honking at me.  Turns out I was hiking up the wrong direction to Park Guell.  This park is gigantic.  It's the biggest park I've ever seen.  There is no good reason for me have been going the opposite way.  I gave him a hearty thumbs up for the assistance.

Josep Maria Jujol is the focal point of the park.  It is supposed to be shaped to resemble a dragon who is watching over the park.  There is Casa-Museu Gaudi that is said to represent the house in Hansel & Gretel (below, obviously--the house that looks like the house in Hansel & Gretel), for which I would add the Spanish seem to have a sincere hankering for which is interesting since it's not a Spanish fairy tale (more research needs to be done--future update potential).

As any gigantic park should have (just ask Disney), there are tons of vendors.  This was my favorite.  The magnum man.  Mind you, I did not have a magnum today, but I had a magnum at the Madrid airport, and it was the best damn icecream bar on the planet.  I'd consider letting someone cut off one of my toes for a lifetime supply.  (Rumor is, according to the ingredient list, there is actually real gold dusted on the outside of the impossibly rich and thick and creamy chocolate shell.  Hey, I'd walk around drooling gold if you paid me--just sayin.)

Soap Suds and Beer Bubbles Make Everything Nice

I was thrilled to discover some new nooks and crannies in my favorite section of town today.  Most of these were subsections coming off of the Placa de Sant Jaume.  The Placa is the political hub for Barcelona.  On one side of the square is the Palau de la Generalitat (above) which is the name for Catalonia's autonomous government as well as the building, and on the other side is the Casa de la Ciutat (below) which is the town hall ("ajuntament").   

The Placa is not just a political site, it is also a social site where a number of gatherings take place, like dances and guessing from today's cleaning of the plaza that made it look as though a giant bubble bath had overflowed last night's festivities for All Saint's also occurred here.

Having serendipitously encountered a new neck of the woods, I also serendipitously encountered an announcement for another classic Spanish guitar performance at the Palau de la Musica.  I sauntered right on through the bubbles and over to the Palau to grab tonight's ticket.  The performance was outstanding again, and for an encore piece the performer, Xavier Coll, brought out his 11 year old daughter who accompanied him on the cello.  Unfortunately the barbarians next to me kept taking their shoes off and whispering, so I was on double duty of rapt listener and eye dagger thrower.

Having enjoyed Portugal's dark beer I decided to try Spain's Estrella's Voll Damm at lunch.  It was good as well, but not as good as Lisbon's Sagre.  (picture is not mine)