Au Revoir Barcelona

We're having our last walks through the old neighborhood and packing up.







To celebrate being in our 60's and biking around Spain, we went to this Barcelona beach today. I have pictures, but I'm not posting them.












And Martha figured if northern Spain was good enough inspiration for Picasso, Pablo Casals and Gaudi, she could probably get a couple of watercolors out of it. These are from the few odd moments from the last week where she could get a little time to herself.

Back to Barcelona

In lieu of Bike Ride Day 5, we went back to Barcelona for a final day. Some observations:

Translations
In some cases, English translations are right on. In others, they are either puzzling or brilliant to the point that they're over my head. Given that Spain is an affluent, educated country with access to an unlimited number of English speakers, I'll assume the latter.







This is an excellent and precise exact translation. Good job.












These two, I'm not so sure about. 







And keeping with the linguistic theme, Martha has asked me to mention that "cerveza," which deals with liquid going in, sounds very similar to "servicio," which refers to liquid going out. She has concluded that the words must have the same origin. I don't agree.

There is only one mood allowed here in Barcelona.












Martha has been lugging this blue water bottle around for a week and a half since we were served water from it our first night here. If you see it at our house, please make a point to mention how pretty it is and ask where we got it.

Bike Ride Day 4

We finished up by by riding from Begur to S'Agaro along the Mediterranean coast.












I would like to say that the ride took a while because we stopped at so many beaches like this one. That is kind of true, but we also got lost a lot.

Until we got to the end and then really did spend some time at the beach.

Bike Ride Day 3

If slightly modifying one's ride includes sitting on a beach all day and doing watercolors, then we slightly modified our ride. And Martha did get a watercolor out of it.




What do you do when you have a medieval village with winding streets that are about six inches
wider than cars and those streets are also used by pedestrians? You can't make the streets wider, so you paint a sidewalk on it (shown at left), and tell drivers to honor the imaginary sidewalk. The truck in this picture illustrates one of many reasons this approach is not perfect.

The people who live here didn't see us looking longingly at their front gate and invite us in for a glass of Cava and some olives.

Martha initiated her painting session with some inspiration in a can. But the painting turned out great, so I'm not judging.














Then we had dinner at a very unique seafood place. They have seven tables and serve one thing - fish. They go down to the boats and grab an assortment of whatever was caught that day, then offer it on the menu. Each fish is weighed and priced. So for example, if you want a sea bass, they might say "We have six of those, the smallest is 1.6 servings and the largest is 3 servings," etc. So you pick the fish you want, the cook who cooks only one thing one way creates a little aluminum-foil basket and plops the fish in there, adds potatoes, vegetables, wine and olive oil, and slides it into a wood-fired oven until it's done. Yum. This picture shows the entire kitchen and cooking staff.

Bike Ride Day 2

We successfully made it 36 miles from Girona to the Mediterranean coast, dodging a couple of storms, making a few wrong turns and developing sore crotches, all of which were countered by drinking beer for lunch, riding through many medieval villages and not getting a flat tire.

The big green area at the beginning is a 7-mile climb to a monastery.

I didn't before appreciate why some bikes have shock absorbers, but now I do.

This is just one of many villages we passed, all of which looked pretty much the same. I'm not jaded.

In one of the villages, we stopped to tour Salvador Dali's summer home, which was pretty amazing. The museum curators preserved the historically-significant items from Dali's life and presented them as they were when he was alive. These included 8-track tapes, cassettes, records, a Datsun station wagon, and many other things that don't seem very "historical" to me. I'm not sure what that all means, but it can't possibly mean that I'm getting older.














About two-thirds of the way through the ride, it started to rain, which could only mean one thing. Time to stop for lunch. And close our eyes.

Bike Ride Day 1






We took a train to Girona today and met a lot of really nice dogs who were very well behaved, sitting calmly outside at restaurant tables and just being happy that they could share peaceful quality time with their owners. Basically all the things our dogs cannot do.

Then we did a 20-mile warm up ride that involved making one pretty big wrong turn and then a large loop around what someone told us was a collapsed ancient volcano.


Is this true? I have no idea.

Because I'm not riding alone this year, I have pictures of something other than just trees.












When we were 15 miles in and realized that we'd had nothing to eat all day, we stopped at a hopping local restaurant where the waiter told us that they were so busy they had no forks or spoons left, but we could have beer and either olives or potato chips, but nothing else. Which we did, while watching all the other people who arrived before us eating what looked like the most delicious meals ever created by humans.

Back in Girona we managed a nap, a good dinner, and now we are resting up for the long ride to the coast, which we plan to celebrate by doing nothing for one day. We'll see how that goes.

Barcelona Day 7

We are just learning how to deal with the Merce. There are stages and performers all over the city and it's impossible to see everything one wants to see because some stage areas are so distant from others. We decided that the best way to see the Merce is to wander around and hope for the best.

Here's a video of a small sampling of what we saw today. This includes the oriental drummers, the French jazz trio with tap dancers from Chicago, the building video show and the extremely creative brown clay on white tarpaulin show.

And deserving of its own video is the Carrefoc, the provenance of which I know nothing, but I'm sure it goes way back. The idea is that devils parade down the street and shoot fire at the bystanders, which included us. I can't state it more clearly than the Merce states it in the program: "At 8.30 pm the fire crackers, pitchforks and the standards of the groups of demons and beasts (the Ceptrotada) will be lit, the Gateway to Hell will also be lit and the Correfoc fire run will begin. Come and join in, but always remember that the Correfoc fire run is a festival where you need to be careful and where you must never lose respect for fire."

Tomorrow the Merce begins to wind down, and by 9:00 am we will be on a train to Girona to begin our bike ride.

Barcelona Day 6

We have decided that it is a tragedy to only visit Barcelona for three days, which Martha is doing. She's already planning how to come back next year for longer. As she just told me, "I am very happy."

Anyway, the Merce began today and I have nothing to write about beyond what the Merce itself has to offer. So below is a video that's kind of long, but it has some of our highlights from today's Merce, including:

1. The traditional music and dance segment open to the public, which probably has a historic cultural significance that is far beyond anything we have in the United Sates, but nonetheless which sounds like the background music to a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

2. The dance of the giant people and the dragon that shoots fire from its nostrils in a large plaza that was crammed with so many people that the body heat alone made it uncomfortable to stay there, which caused us to go to the . . .

3. Ciutadella Park, where we did the rumba with the large colored people and bought food at the Van Van event, which included food trucks to meet every culinary need.

The video speaks for itself.

Barcelona Day 5

I would like to say that the high point of today is that Martha joined me here in Barcelona. And while this is definitely a significant event and I'm thrilled for her to join me, I think she and I would both agree that other things about today were pretty unique.






We met at the airport and then walked around our neighborhood taking normal couple pictures. In this one, Martha is standing on the street leading to the beach, where approximately 80 - 100 vendors are selling the exact same soccer shirts and beach towels for exactly the same price  right next to each other. My personal guess is that they all also share an apartment.









This evening we were walking around and stumbled into an even bigger pro-independence rally than the one I encountered last night. This one involved many hundreds of people, beer, weed, drumming and accordions. It's really a unique time to be here, what with the arrests, confiscations, police raids and independence advocates. People who care about Spain will be talking about this week for some time to come. This is some video of the rally we stumbled upon.

But then . . . we are here primarily for the Merce - the annual festival in Barcelona that involves hundreds of performers, art installations, food vendors, fire-related fun (like fireworks, the fire run where devils shoot fire into anyone who dares to run in the parade, and the kids' fire run, in which, I assume, the risks of suffering 3rd-degree burns are somewhat less than they are for the adult run).





Anyway, we happened to walk through a park where some performers were rehearsing for the Merce, and in the span of 45 minutes, saw an oriental break dancing act, a video fantasy drama projected on a building, and a guy meticulously and expertly tap dancing to Vivaldi's Rites of Spring. I have summarized each of those things in a video, but really, you had to be there.

I tried repeatedly to upload the video of all of this, but YouTube wouldn't allow me to add it to my blog because YouTube recognized the music the last guy was tap dancing to as Vivaldi's Rites of Spring, which is copyrighted. So I removed the tap dancer and have included below the video of the oriental break dancing and the video fantasy. Please let me know if you would like to see the tap dancer and I'l be happy to arrange a clandestine showing.

And yes, we also had an amazing dinner, the details of which I'll share when there's less about the day to write about.

Barcelona Day 4

I am going to temporarily abandon my theme of  fun observations of Spanish life and focus on the Catalan independence vote, which has taken a pretty serious turn. I mentioned the other day that northern Spain is planning to vote for independence, again. This time, the Spanish government said that such a vote was illegal. Northern Spain said they were doing it anyway, southern Spain said "no you can't," northern Spain said "yes, we can," etc.

Today, Spanish police raided election offices and confiscated voting materials. They also arrested 14 elected officials who were in favor of holding a vote, including the Secretary of the Treasury. I walked through several large protest rallies today. It's almost midnight, and people are still making a lot of noise outside. So yeah, things are a little tense here in Barcelona.

This is a gathering at the government building this evening at the Plaza Jaume, where the Spanish and Catalan governments have offices directly across from each other in a small square, ostensibly to facilitate communication.

And on the way back to may apartment, almost everyone on my street participated in an impromptu protest against the Spanish government by banging pots and pans from their windows:

And on a completely different, tone-deaf and insensitive note that I really feel kind of bad about, I had a delightful dinner of marinated mushrooms with eggplant and ceviche of cod with tomato confit and some odd little fruit, at a restaurant highly recommended by the New York Times.

Barcelona Day 3

Today I walked over to the area at Las Ramblas where the van attack occurred about a month ago. I was about to write that looking at it today, there's really no way you would know anything happened there. But on reflection that seems kind of obvious - of course you wouldn't know. That's the nature of these things.








My sentence for today is "That shelf above the outlet holds my chalk and the models of my pets." You think I can't say that? Try me.

I met with one of Kia's friends from college who's here teaching English and she told me an encouraging story. She is working at a school that teaches English to kids, so she's surrounded by Spanish-born career English teachers. During a break, she had a conversation with some other Americans doing what she's doing, and when it was over, one of the teachers came over and said "You were all talking so fast. I have no idea what you were saying." Not that I enjoy the failures of others, it just shows that we're all in the same boat. Why the dog? No reason, I just like dogs.

On a generally more positive topic, Barcelona is starting to get ready for the Merce, the annual blowout celebration that I attended by accident last year and on purpose this year. Stages are going up, dangerous fire parades are being planned, and musicians from Iceland are pouring in. Additional reports to come  . . .

Barcelona Day 2

I am determined to improve my Spanish. I try to take a few new words every day based on things I read or hear, and put them into sentences that I can remember, and say those sentences to myself over and over during the day. Today's is "I would like to nibble the mussels on your rubber roof." I may not ever use that exact sentence, but you never know.

Northern Spain is about to vote, again, to secede from the rest of the country. Most people in northern Spain already don't consider themselves part of the country; this would just make it official. But since northern Spain is much more prosperous than southern Spain . . .

. . . evidenced, for example, by this yacht with its own private helicopter that I noticed today, the government of Spain really isn't crazy about the idea and they've considered many extreme measures, some of which involve the Spanish military, to quell this insurrection. It might be an interesting week.






And speaking of militaries and insurrections, I received an urgent email from the US government today that identified areas in which I should be extra, extra careful because of extremist groups. These are the high-risk areas, copied from the email - "Sporting contests, political rallies, demonstrations, holiday events, celebratory gatherings, hotels, clubs, and restaurants, places of worship, schools, parks, shopping malls and markets, tourism infrastructure, public transportation systems and airports". If you need me in the next few days, I'll be locked in the bathroom.

But on a more festive note, in the Catalan spirit of attributing sentience to inanimate objects, I noticed this year that the beach itself is now asking people to please follow the rules. Not because we're willing to roll over and submit to the government, but because it actually makes the beach happy. How can you argue with that?

Back in Barcelona

I took a train from Valencia to Barcelona today - back to the same neighborhood, in fact the same apartment, I stayed in last year. That's how much I liked it.

On the train, I was sitting next to a big, muscular, tattooed guy who looked like a rugby player in his off season (if there is such a thing - I don't know anything about rugby). About an hour into the 4-hour ride, he pulled his cross-stitch project out of his pack and started working on it: a lovely pastoral scene of a thatched-roof cottage in the woods. Shortly after that I went to the cafe car to get something to eat and stand for a while. I left all my stuff on the seat. There's no way a guy who does cross-stitch is going to steal my stuff.

Then I got to Barcelona and had a fantastic dinner at a bar recommended by a friend. There were two Americans sitting behind me, a couple who looked to be in their 50's. The guy said "Most of this stuff has gluten in it. If I have even a piece of bread in the morning it can take weeks or even months for me to recover. It's a big deal for me. Try being in Sweden for two weeks with all that beer when you can't have gluten." Then they looked at the wine list and he said "It's almost impossible to find wine without sulfites. I doubt they have any wine without sulfites." I had three tapas and two glasses of wine. When I left, he was still dissecting the menu.

Valencia Day 2

Just as I’m getting settled in here, I have to pack up and leave. But it’s the only place in Spain on this trip that was a new city for me, so I’m glad I had a chance to visit.I thought real hard this morning about exercising with the people in the video below but in the end, just went for another run.

Afterward, I decided to go to the Valencia beach. It’s in a not-great part of town, there was hardly anyone there, and a lot of the buildings, even the ones right on the water, are pretty dilapidated. Yet I saw plenty of very pale British tourists walking around acting as if this were a typical lively, normal beach scene. So, I don’t know, maybe I’m too picky. Also, on my way to the beach from the metro I saw a skinny guy with dreadlocks down to his waist talking to a bird. Not just talking but actually conversing with the bird. When he saw me, he gave me a “what are you looking at?” look. Honestly, he was right – who am I to judge?

These are some of the beachfront properties.

Since this is the hospital, my guess is that it’s important to be very careful when you’re on the beach.

The oil tanks and cranes at the end of the beach only detract from the ambiance if you look in that direction.

By far the nicest building in the whole neighborhood is this drive-through McDonald’s that is still under construction.

On the bright side, since every city with a metro has to put something on the train tickets, why doesn’t everyone do something like this?

Finally, I was walking around this evening and saw hundreds of people lined up outside the Central Market. Why? No one I asked seemed to know. So I got in line. Long story short, there is one day each year that the market opens in the evening so that all the vendors can prepare ready-to-eat food and sell it for the select few who make it in. I got in. When I left, there were still lines around the block of people waiting to be let in after enough people like me left to make room for them. Do I know exactly what was in what I ate? Not really. Do I care? Not really.



I also discovered today that it is so extremely hot and dry here that if I wash my t-shirt in the sink and put it outside in the sun, it dries completely in about 45 minutes. So if I were traveling just to Valencia, I think one shirt would do it.

Valencia

I woke up with a big decision to make. Do I run with my bluetooth earbuds streaming Spotify or use the wired earbuds with my mp3 player? Two espressos later, decision made, I went for a lovely run through the linear park.

Being in the old part of town means having to go past many upscale stores, including one that is actually called "Hipster," to get to the park.

The park has only been around since the late 1950's, but takes the place of a river that tended to flood the city, so the paths go under bridges that are hundreds of years old.

It is said, really, that Valencia's best art isn't in the museums. This is what they're talking about. These painted walls are all over the place, and they get painted over from time to time, so there's no predicting what you'll see if you visit.

Then a visit to the Central Market - one of the biggest markets in Europe. Some of the things I saw in there are not for the squeamish, depending on your squeam factor. Let's just say that if you're going to hang a ham,it's a lot easier to have a hoof to wrap the rope around. Not judging.

This place is huge enough to accommodate everyone from Valencia here to buy food as well as everyone from everywhere else here to take pictures.

For much of the stuff, there were at least a dozen different vendors selling any one thing. Seafood, meat, fruit, nuts, one place selling engagement rings and another for paella pans. So if you want a paella pan, there's really just one place to go. But if you want shrimp, I'm not sure how you pick one place over another.

But for lunch at the market, there is just one place to go. I'll let the New York Times take it from here: "Join the line at Central Bar, a terracotta-tiled tapas bar sandwiched between vendors. Run by the star chef Ricard Camarena, this efficient, bustling spot serves a menu built on products from the surrounding market, from fried artichokes in season to plump boquerones (anchovies) with passion-fruit ceviche." And from there, nap time.