Barcelona: Day 2

Day two began with a run through Montjuic Park. Along the way we passed a castle, a grand museum, and a giant inflated bottle of Estrella Damm.

A much-needed rest doubled as a photo op after a grueling uphill stretch

Montjuic castle from the outside

When in Europe, wear short shorts

View of the shipyard/pier from the top of Montjuic hill

My true love and me

My other true love and me

After lunch and some freshening up, we headed towards Park Guell, another one of Gaudi's (and by association, the city's) most prized works. When we stepped out of the Airbnb the streets of Las Ramblas were insanely crowded, even more so than yesterday. Languid tourists, fast-paced locals, street entertainers showing off in every direction, all bustling to and fro. I blinked; Barcelona suddenly felt a lot like Manhattan.

On the stairs descending into the subway, the crowd separated me from the boy for a moment. Shoulder-to-shoulder, looking down, all rushing into the underground. I briefly made eye contact with a man to my side when my crossbody bag got jostled. In that moment I thought nothing of it.

We reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped at the kiosks to buy tickets for the subway. By this time the crowds had thinned out. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the same man who'd been next to me was at the bottom of the stairs. Slowly, nonchalantly, he started to head back up. This was mildly puzzling; who heads down into the subway only to go back up?

Then the thought entered my head. Could it be true? I didn't want to believe it.

I fumbled and unzipped my bag. Phone, yes. Water bottle, yes. Wallet - no. No no no. Wait Rose, before you do anything dumb, think. Did you even bring your wallet out today? I concentrated hard for a second. Yes, I definitely did. 

It all unfolded in a minute. I think my brain pretty much shut off as the adrenaline flooded in.

"That man stole my wallet! Hey! You! GIVE ME BACK MY WALLET! HEY!" I was sprinting up the stairs, yelling at the top of my lungs, the boy running as fast as he could after the perpetrator. We reached the top of the stairs; by then a large audience had formed around the subway entrance, no doubt curious about the commotion. The man was a few paces ahead of us, still sprinting, but we were catching up and the scene was drawing more and more attention. He produced my wallet from his jacket and tossed it to the ground before running off and disappearing into the crowd.

Thankfully, nothing was taken. I had heard of so many friends and family being victims to petty theft but had naively thought it would never happen to me. I was very lucky in that I recovered my wallet, but the experience left me feeling thoroughly shaken up.

Luckily, Park Guell proved to be a wonderful distraction from reality. Established in the early 1900's, Gaudi's park made La Sagrada Familia look almost normal. Fantastic colors, intricate mosiacs, and with no straight lines in sight... it was as if Gaudi had been commissioned to design this park under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs.

The girl who (almost) got her wallet stolen

A Rose among rocks

El drac

Gaudi's gingerbread houses

Life imitating art

Entrance to the park

Fun fact: in Chinese, one is told to say 'eggplant' to achieve the same effect as saying 'cheese' in English

Inside one of Gaudi's houses

He just blue himself.

Dinner was an affair of €1 tapas. The tapas were all lined up buffet-style at the bar. A very hungry hippo simply purveys the variety of tapas, selects them, eats them to their hearts content, and at the end settles the bill via the number of toothpicks on their plate.

It was genius. It was delicious. I gobbled up eleven of them in total.

Mini breakfast, tiny fork included.

A creme brulee to end things on a sweet note.

We capped the evening off with a stroll back to our neighborhood and a couple of beers under the night sky while a trio of musicians serenaded the square with some traditional Spanish music - a perfect way to relax after what had been a very exciting second day in Barcelona. 

Barcelona: Day 1

Another day, another blog post of a trip that took place two months ago!

Specifically, it was over the four-day Easter weekend that the boy and I headed to Barcelona. Note: four-day weekends are fabulous. Don't get me wrong, three-day weekends are pretty great too. But three days off still feels more weekendish than like a vacation, whereas four becomes plenty to shake my brain empty of all things work-related and focus properly on gallivanting.

We arrived on a warm evening and found our Airbnb on Las Ramblas. This is probably the equivalent of staying at Navy Pier in Chicago or Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco. There were tourists everywhere. The Airbnb itself was fine enough but we quickly gathered our wits about us and ventured out for some tapas. We found an excellent spot in the Gothic Quarter, ordered a half dozen to share, washed it down with beer and called it a night.

View from our balcony

Gazillions of people on Las Ramblas, one of which is a Marilyn Monroe look-a-like outside the Erotic Museum.

The next morning was sunny and perfect for adventuring. After breakfast, we walked to our meeting point with Fat Tire Bike Tours. At first I thought this was related to the Fat Tire Brewing Company and I got really excited about the notion of seeing Barcelona and drinking Fat Tire beer at the same time. The boy burst my bubble when he enlightened me that fat tire was a type of bicycle and that both companies happened to be named after them.

I didn't have time to be bummed for long; our guide Adam's enthusiasm for Barcelona was infectious. After a brief explanation of the city's history (long story short: once independent, then became part of Spain, now want independence back) we took off through the winding old streets on our bicycles, marvelling at our surroundings whilst trying our hardest not to plow into unsuspecting tourists.

Hot wheels.

Barcelona Cathedral. Dedicated to young Eulalia, who was martyred at the tender age of 13.

Inside the cathedral.

Ooh, aah.

Easter Mass procession

Palace of Catalan Music. Often misattributed to Antoni Gaudi.

Supposedly the architects of the Eiffel Tower originally planned on building it here,
but the people of Barcelona rejected the idea and got their own Arc de Triomphe instead.

Ciutadella Park fountain, loosely based off Rome's Trevi fountain

A fun candid shot in the park.

Everywhere we went, we saw homages to the city's most famous artist, Antoni Gaudi. Gaudi was an intern on this project! Gaudi designed that house! Gaudi probably pooped there! In a city rife with art and beauty, I was rather surprised that one single artist was exalted to this extent.

Then we biked to La Sagrada Familia and I was like...ok, I guess I get what all this Gaudi fuss is all about.

I found it difficult to believe that construction on this building began in 1882 and is still far from complete. Then again, I suppose Gaudi had a point when he once famously commented that his client is not in a hurry.

Up until then I'd been contemplating whether or not Barcelona was the most beautiful city I'd ever seen. Such thoughts were confirmed when we ended our bike tour with a view of the city's sprawling beaches. Our tour guide told us about how in preparation for the 1992 summer Olympics, the city imported its sand from Egypt and its palm trees from Hawaii. And also how they attempted to build two great luxury skyscrapers overlooking it all...but didn't complete construction until after the games were long over. That's the outcome of result months and months of vacation for everyone yields, right? Just kidding please let me live in your country forever.

After biking all day in the glorious sun, we had worked up a great hunger and thirst. At Adam's recommendation, we headed over to Bar del Pla and relaxed with tapas and wine.

The weather was just too beautiful to stay inside for long. Bellies satiated, we strolled along the boardwalk and grabbed some gelato along the way as we watched the sun turn the sky into a cotton candy blanket.

W Hotel, known by the locals as 'Sail hotel'. Very reminiscent of Dubai's Burj Al Arab 

The evening concluded with a grand affair of wine and paella. Up until then we'd been dining in casual and trendy bar-like places. It was wonderful to sit down in a proper restaurant and treat ourselves to a classic local dish.

Perfection in a pan

The paella lived up to all our expectations and more. It was perfectly cooked and seasoned and was definitely worth the 40-minute cooking time. Whenever I reminisce about that meal, I do it with a twinge of nostalgia and a rapidly-forming pool of saliva.

Stay tuned for days two and three/four in Barcelona, coming very soon!