Gaudi and Tapas and Flamenco, Oh My!

Readers, can you believe I am nearing post number thirty, and it's very likely one of my last?  Because I certainly can't.  I took a few minutes before beginning to write this to skim through my entries and reflect on the last year of my life.  I'll save that discussion for another post, but in summary:  Whoa.  It truly is unreal, the things that can happen to one in the span of ten months.  Things that will change you, move you, shape you, and stay with you for the rest of your life - if you let them.


I must stick to the point, though.  I never would have thought that an entry about a trip to Spain would make it into this blog, and yet, here it is!  If I had to sum it up in two words?  

¡Viva España!

On Wednesday morning, after taking two and a half days to rest up from my adventure in Italy, I threw a few pieces of clean, summery clothing into my backpack and boarded a coach to the airport.  Fortunately, the trip to my flight this time around went much more smoothly than before.  After checking in and a bit of waiting, I was on my (delayed) flight to Barcelona!  The culture shock began almost immediately, on the plane, as the voices surrounding me were mostly speaking in Spanish.  Fortunately, I am semi-fluent in the language and did not feel quite as out of place as I did in Rome's airport after we landed.  I arrived around 9:00 p.m., and after passing through security and taking a bus into the city centre, was relieved to see how easy the metro was to navigate (I have to admit, it's almost as good as London's underground.)  I arrived at my hostel, nearly thirty minutes by metro from the center of Barcelona in a suburb called Badalona, around 11 p.m.  The hostel was a little hard to find, as it is not well marked and it was dark, but after asking a few people and checking in, I made my way straight to bed!


The next morning I woke early, but as it is Spain and time, if it exists there at all, runs much later than the rest of the world's, the free breakfast did not start until 8:00 a.m.  So, I took some time to wander about the town I was in, which again, seemed a little sketchy in comparison to the rest of Barcelona.  I discovered that the beach, which was supposed to be less than a ten minute walk from the hostel, had turned into a nearly forty minute trek because of construction.  Still, I felt fortunate to have a more private beach, in a less busy town, at my disposal.

 

I was also happy to come across many little supermarkets and fresh fruit and vegetable stands meant for locals and not tourists so that a bottle of water and whatever else I needed was affordable and only a few minutes from where I was staying!


After breakfast, I hopped the metro to a "sister hostel" to my own, which was the meeting point for a free walking tour of Barcelona.  Unfortunately, on making my way to this particular hostel, I was still not convinced that Barcelona was a place I wanted to be - it was a rather run down street, with bars on windows and graffiti on the walls.  However, the walking tour got underway, and we all breathed a sigh of relief once we emerged onto Las Ramblas, one of the busiest and most well-known areas of the city.

Funnily, our tour guide was from Switzerland, but he's been in Barcelona for quite some time and knew loads about its history.  We remained mainly in the Gothic Quarter, where he took us past the city's oldest restaurant, through the former Jewish Ghetto, with its dark and looming alleyways, and to several churches.  My personal favorite was this one, which was built entirely by sailors and volunteers after they had finished their day jobs for no pay whatsoever, was finished more quickly than churches built by contractors, and which suffered the wrath of fires that swept the city and burned for 11 days straight, escaping with only a few burn marks on its walls and ceilings (still visible today):

 

We also made our way past several government buildings, tiny plazas, and various monuments, listening to age-old stories about Saints (including St. George and St. Eulalia), artists (including Gaudi and Picasso) and other popular figures including Christopher Columbus and even George Orwell!

The art school Picasso attended.

The site of Gaudi's first work - two lampposts.

George Orwell Plaza.

Barcelona's patron saint, St. George, slaying the dragon.

Christopher Columbus monument.

After the tour ended, I took some time to wander about Barcelona by myself, since I finally felt comfortable and had a basic lay of the land.  I returned to Las Ramblas and literally rambled along, slowly and happily, passing by one outdoor restaurant after another, most of which had giant signs reading, "World's Best Sangria Sold Here" and "Best Tapas in Barcelona."  There were several artists working on their next masterpiece as onlookers stood in awe, and even more human statues, painted silver and gold, moving only every now and then to get a good jump out of the unexpecting tourist next to them.

 

 

Again, it is worth noting that it's true about the unimportance of time in Southern Europe - stores do close for a few hours in the afternoon, posting "Be Back Later" signs, people do leave work to take siestas, and even the dogs know how to take it easy!

Perhaps my favorite part of Las Ramblas was the most popular market there, Mercat de Sant Josep - La Boqueria.  Full of fresh fruits and fruit juice, vegetables, cheeses, breads, hanging meats, and overrun with tourists like me snapping photos of it all.  I couldn't help but decide that dinner my first night would be a fresh fruit salad and coconut juice!

I spent a little more time on Las Ramblas, and leisurely made my way back to the metro and returned to my hostel.  I met up with a few of my new roommates (the room had 16 beds in all) from Canada, and we hung out on the hostel's patio, discussing travels and the total lack of desire to return to North America!

On Friday, I spent the morning and early afternoon on the beach and in the city of Badalona, as well as a little while talking with two girls I met at the hostel, one from Germany and one from South Korea (who is studying in England as well.)  We boarded the metro and all left at different stops, mine being one near the end of Las Ramblas, towards the port, where I walked to the end and found myself at an outdoor market, full of books and antiques that I spent entirely too much time looking at.  From there, I went to an artsy district (I forget the name!) and stumbled into many independent shops, where I found an 18th century tile for my mom's tile collection and a quirky handmade ring for myself.

I ended up at the statue of Columbus, where I thought I was supposed to be in order to go on a tapas and flamenco tour hosted by the hostel.  However, after about twenty minutes of not seeing any familiar faces when I should have, I called my own hostel and was told that the meeting place had changed and that they'd be doing the tour again on Sunday.  So, I watched the sunset over the city, and left for Badalona.

Saturday morning, I decided to do a second free walking tour, specific to the works of Gaudi.  The tour group was huge, and I'm so glad because I was able to meet so many people!  We started out with Gaudi's first work - two lampposts in the center of a plaza, and then hopped on and off the metro to see his other famous houses and his breathtaking work, still in progress, Sagrada Familia, which is expected to be finished in 2026, the 100 year anniversary of his death.

 

The tour ended, and after hearing our tour guide mention Gaudi's Park Guell a million times, I was determined to see it.  So, I took the metro to the proper stop, and after exiting, felt like I was in the middle of nowhere.  Although I knew I was far from Texas, I was waiting for a tumbleweed to roll by at any second, across the dry, cracked ground, on which set a few old, crumbling Spanish buildings.  I followed the signs though, and grew more excited as there seemed to me more and more life as I went along, but then my heart sank a little.  The final sign pointed towards the steepest hill I have ever seen in my life.  I took a deep breath, and began the climb.  About five sets of staircases, three escalators, and four long stretches of uphill climbing later, I reached the top.

And it was so worth the climb!

 

 

The views of Barcelona were stunning.  It was dreamlike, really, to see all of the places I had visited one by one while on their level, all at once from such a high place.  The area was made even more surreal with Gaudi's crazy, yet beautiful works set against the green and rocky landscape.

 

The luck I have had while in Europe remained with me in Spain, as I discovered that later that night, Barcelona would be taking part in "Night of the Museums" - a night in which several countries in Europe take part in opening their doors late at night for free.  I was a little concerned when, as I was heading back into the city, the sky darkened and the sound of thunder rumbled behind the songs of street musicians, beeping car horns, and chatter of a thousand voices, but as the rain began to fall, I couldn't help but notice how no one seemed to be bothered in the slightest.  Around 9:00 p.m., I stood, in the rain, at the end of very long line at the Picasso Museum and watched as people just began making their way to dinner, many continuing to gather and stand outside of restaurant doors, laughing, throwing back one sangria after another.  In witnessing that, I decided that I want that kind of attitude, no matter where I am, no matter what nature decides to do.  I'll admit though, that I was a little relieved to be under a dry roof and on my way to seeing one of my favorite artists' works.

Photographs weren't allowed, but I spent nearly two hours gazing at almost every piece, taking note of just how much his style changed from one decade to the next, and, as always, was quite moved that I was seeing the actual canvas and the actual paint rather than a digital image through a computer screen.

From there, I went across the street to a small modern art museum, of which I'm not much of a fan.  However, I try to appreciate what I can, and enjoyed getting to meet some of the artists as they worked, and spent a little extra time in a room inspired by environmentally friendly artwork.

And lastly, I found myself at none other than... the Chocolate Museum!  Yes, a museum dedicated to that sweet and savory goodness we all know and love and crave.  I could have gone to a history museum, or a culture museum, but I found that this decision was appropriate considering chocolate first came to be in Barcelona, thus, it directly relates to both, right?  And, of course, because my "ticket" was a free chocolate bar!  Really, though, it was much more interesting than I thought it would be.  I learned not only about the history of chocolate, but lots of interesting statistics and several creations made out of the stuff!

It was about two in the morning when I arrived back at the hostel, and I slept in a little on Sunday.  But when I finally got around, I decided to go to the side of the city I had not yet been to and spend some time there before meeting up for the tapas and flamenco tour.  I walked past several stores and couldn't resist getting a gelato that, dare I say it, was probably better than any I had gotten in Italy!

I continued walking along, following the signs to the Arc de Triomphe, when it happened.  I found my favorite park in the entire world.  May I introduce to you, Parc de la Ciutadella.

I think the reason I loved this park so much was because it was right in the middle of the city, and yet it felt worlds away.  There were little ponds everywhere, fountains and flowers galore, and people scattered all over enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon.  If there was any real activity going on at all, it was either someone strumming a Bob Marley tune on guitar or a soccer ball being kicked around.  I truly did as the Spanish do and lost all track of time here.

When I finally decided to get up and move again, I left the park and walked towards the Arc de Triomphe.

I spent a few moments admiring it, and the activity going on around it - couples on rollerblades, kids playing soccer and eating ice cream, families strolling by - before getting on the metro for a night out.

I had been a little upset that I'd missed the tapas and flamenco night on Friday, but the universe works in wonderful ways sometimes, because if I had gone then, I wouldn't have met the people I did on Sunday. Oh, did I mention they were from Ball State?!  A small group of us turned up, and all but two of us were from the Midwest!  Two from Ohio, two from Indiana, one from Canada, and one from Brazil.  I believe our tour guide was from Poland, and a second one that showed up later was a local guy.

I was a little overly excited that they brought out an entire plate full of vegetarian-friendly tapas, and we proceeded to stuff ourselves full of delicious Spanish cuisine and sangria!  From there, our guide led us to the flamenco show, which had us all in a complete trance - the dancing was so fast paced and the music authentic that we couldn't believe it was over so quickly.

The sangria was already starting to kick in, and we were a little unsure of whether or not we wanted to stick around and take part in the pub crawl that the hostel hosted after the show, but we decided to go to the first pub and see.  Long story short, we stayed, we followed, we drank, we had lots of fun, and somehow, we managed to take a night bus back to our hostel at 3:30 in the morning!  This means we (probably, I am judging by my bus ticket) got back to our hostel around 4:30 in the morning and when I woke up on Monday at noon, I was in total shock.  I cannot remember the last time I slept in past ten, and immediately felt as if my day was wasted.  Yet, at the same time, knew that the fun night had been worth the lost hours of the morning, and remembered Spain is an hour ahead of England, and that the whole time thing didn't really apply anyway.  I sucked it up, drank a liter of water, and ran off to the train station to spend the rest of my day in Sitges, a seaside town about forty minutes south of Barcelona.  I did manage to take a train that passed through Sitges, but to my surprise, didn't actually stop in Sitges.  So, I got off at the next station it did stop at, and found myself in a very non-touristy, very non-English speaking, very real part of Spain.  It was here that my Spanish-speaking skills had to come into play so that I could figure out how to get where I was going.  Now, I am glad it happened.  Getting lost allowed me to see a little more of Spain and prove to myself that I really am capable of finding my own way around.

When I did make it to the beach in Sitges, I plopped down and stayed in place for quite a long time, listening to the waves and wishing it wasn't my last full day in Spain.

 I did manage to get up and see the town, though, sticking mainly to the waterfront.  Part of me wishes I had spent a couple of days in Sitges as it was small, quiet, historic, and absolutely gorgeous - much different than Barcelona.

 

 

On the train ride back, I became a little envious of how beautiful the train rides in Europe are (although, I've never taken a train in the states, so I shouldn't judge just yet.)  But to have the mountains full of colorful houses speeding by on one side and the glittering blue Mediterranean on the other was one of my favorite things during my time in Spain.


My final day in Barcelona, I spent in the area of Montjuic ("Hill of the Jews"), a large hill where there are several museums, attractions, gardens, the Olympic Park (the 1992 Olympics were held in Barcelona) and the Montjuic Castle, all overlooking the city of Barcelona.  Again, it was tough getting to the top - especially since the main escalators and stairs were closed off due to a car show in the center of the park - but the climb was easily forgotten once I stood at the top.

 

 

The day passed by rather quickly, after I had seen the main attractions and spent some time in the breezy gardens at the top of the hill, I had to return to my hostel to gather my things and start for the airport.

Amazingly, I was at the airport half of an hour early enough to board a flight for London two hours before I was supposed to - for no extra charge!  I happily accepted the offer, because it meant that I wouldn't have to master the art of sleeping in the airport after all.  I was able to get a train back to Canterbury the same night rather than the next day as I had planned, and was in my own room by midnight.  The ending was such a rush, I found it hard to believe I had been in Spain just hours before I crawled into my bed in England.  That's the wonderful thing about Europe - you can be in one country, enjoying its culture, its sights, and its beauty during the afternoon, and later that evening, be in another, one that seems worlds and worlds away, but in my case, is the place I'll always want to return to.

I sit here now, in a state of total disbelief that I only have three weeks left in this place I've come to know as home.

What comes next?

Hasta Luego,
Aly