Day 11: Barcelona

Barcelona is loud and colorful, a flurry of language and music and movement pulsing in the narrow spaces between buildings. It seems as if life has been poured into the cracks of the cities and has been cultivated, growing in the kind of vigor that transcends the so-called “language barrier.” In Catalan, they have a word “rauxa,” which means “creative chaos.”  Barcelona is rauxa.

Our first lesson upon our arrival here in Spain is that there is no set of rules to depend on. At least, not one I can decipher. Here, they speak a regional language separate from that of the entire country. Our cab driver, in an effort to get us closer to our apartment, drove over a roadblock and into a pedestrian zone to save us a 20 meter walk. Historic buildings are invisible through layers of graffiti and, on our street alone, there exists a strange mix of grunge culture and ice cream shops. Even having been saved the 20 meters, our first steps into Barcelona were terrifying.

We checked our luggage (this involved jamming our luggage into a closet filled with a million other pieces of luggage while trying to avoid an avalanche) and, famished, went and found some lunch. I had my first chance to use my seven years of Spanish in a real-world situation, which went well until she spat some phrase at me, which I’m hoping was Catalan, to justify my utter lack of understanding. I smiled and muddled through the interaction and everything went fine, though, so I think I’ll probably survive the next few days.

After lunch, we headed back to the apartments, where we’d been told the rooms would be ready by 3. We were still a bit early, so we stopped at an ice cream stand and had a much more successful interaction with the lady behind the counter, who was very sweet and, I think, very charmed by our efforts to speak Spanish.

Still finishing our cones, we collected our luggage and made our way to the apartment building, which is actually down the street from reception and the associated hotel. I suppose it is more accurate to say that reception is on the main street, while the apartments are down a nearby alley, marked only by the number above the heavily graffiti-ed door. We made it into the building and were pleasantly surprised by the general cleanliness and non-graffit-ness of the inside. And, climbing the narrow, winding stairs to the third floor and almost breaking the key in an effort to unlock the door, we got in.

The apartment is basic, but nice enough, clean and spacious with a modest kitchen and not intolerable beds. The best part of it is its proximity to the main street in the center of old town, called “La Rambla.” We’ve already dedicated some time of the next few days to wandering La Rambla, its shops and side streets. It promises an endless variety of shopping, people watching, and enjoying the beautiful Barcelona weather.

Having settled down a bit into our apartment, we decided to explore our street a little more, and so we wouldn’t have to worry about the infamous Barcelona pick-pockets active particularly in this area, we emptied our pockets almost entirely. We found a market a picked up some breakfast provisions for the next day and some snacks to tide us over ‘til the customary 10 o’clock dinnertime. We bought fresh Manchego from the very sweet old man behind the deli counter, who was forgiving of my Spanish and my limited knowledge about cheese shopping (he basically ended up choosing for me). We also rustled up some cava wine, a Catalonia specialty, some olives and roasted red peppers. We found a loaf of crusty, rustic bread and headed back to feast.

We did some tub-laundry, which was a new experience for me, and did a lot of ringing out clothes, which we incorporated into some fresh dances moves to the American radio station we found. Nothing quite like squeezin’ socks to Madonna’s “Like a Virgin.”

We scoped out a place for dinner, basing our decision entirely on whether the people inside seemed like locals and whether they looked like they were having a good time. We decided on a place called L’Oliva, where Matt, Dad and I ordered paella mixta, a Spanish specialty involving a rice, vegetable and saffron mix with fresh seafood (things that still had their faces!) and meats, and Mom ordered a chicken dish with vegetables and a fabulous broth. The food was riquísima and served in awe-inspiring portions.

Before turning in for the night, we took a walk part of the way up La Rambla to try to work off some of the paella, and eventually arrived at the Plaça Catalunya, a central square where we saw tourists strolling, admiring the nightime skyline and locals sitting in the square drinking, playing chess and spending time together.  

Even though today was a bit overwhelming, it bodes well for our time here in Barcelona. I can’t wait to see the rest of the city, to explore it, and to get to know it.

A note: I may have to forgo pictures for the next few days, due to limited wifi and data availability. I will be sure to catch up later as soon as we have reliable wifi!