The first two days of spain

Some have complained I don't update frequently. You're right. enough said.

25.09.07

Oh Barcelona, Barcelona.

As usual haven’t written in a while, so apologies…

I have reached that intermediary period in my France-borne education where I’m not quite not a student, not yet a worker (yes, pun on horrible Brittney Spears song/album). That is to say, my vacation.

Why of all places am I going to Spain? It is cheap-ish. I have 2 very close friends there, Ben and Igor. I am bad at planning—didn’t buy my ticket back until 1 day before I left, nor did I reserve lodgings for more than one night at a time, nor did I think about what I was going to do until the night before the flight (or should I say mere hours before a flight). But, so far so good.

First to tell of getting there. To dispel some myths: low cost travel does not mean bad travel, it means inconvenient, though cheap travel. Hence a 9am flight necessitates a 5am awakening, a 5:40am metro train to the edge of town (Paris that is, not the Paris MSA), a 1.5 hour, 13Eu bus to Beauvais (read middle of nowhere), in a different Région (read state), 70 kiloms away. The airport, though reminiscent of Arlanda in Stockholm, in a bad way, could double as a large house, small warehouse, or medium-sized restaurant—it is tiny. At least there are a lot of people who do things as crazy as I and fly RyanAir. Surprisingly, the flight landed in Barcelona (Girona) 10 minutes early! But wait, 12Eu and another 70 kiloms and same 1.5 hour bus ride later, I’m in the center of Barcelona with hot weather and facing its very own Arc de Triomf. (Needless to say, all of this was fun on 3 hrs of sleep and Yom Kippur the day before).

To stop my patter…Barcelona is beautiful: palm trees, pretty girls, nice architecture, public art…and I happened to come in the middle of the year’s biggest deal—the festival of Mercì, an ancient Catalan tradition.

Before going further, I must clarify: Catalunya the province/region where Barcelona is located believes firmly in autonomy (understatement). Now, I’m all for regional movements, especially with their own languages, cultures, traditions, and cuisines. This is not regionalism, people; this is se-pa-ra-tism. But enough said.

This means, everything is written in Català, the local tongue, and sometimes Spanish, and generally not in English. Now some of you know, my knowledge of Spanish is limited to reading, and to very select 1^st grade vocabulario. So, I’m doubly screwed. Thankfully, Ben’s Spanish is good and we can get around.

In my absentmindedness, I left the address of my hostel, along with the list of attractions I had written out the night before, at home, in Paris. So, I proceeded to traipse from the bus station to where I perchance thought my hostel might be. I wasn’t completely poking in the dark as I knew the street name, Carrer d’Arago, and I knew the number was in the 200s somewhere. Needless to say, the first 2 times of walking through the 10 blocks that make up the 200s didn’t get me anywhere. I was really starting to feel like an idiot (well more than starting), and then Ben called and everything was ok.

Happily my phone is now out of minutes so don’t try calling/texting until I’m back in Paris, another one of those happy traveling moments.

Now for the good news: my hostel, Omni house, once I found it, is sweet. The people working are genial, breakfast is included, the cost is cheap, the lodging effective…

The festival that’s going on means all the locals don’t have work today, Monday, so Ben doesn’t have class. Also, there is live music and performances outside all over; many museums are free; fireworks and live shows every night.

Highlights so far—

o Museu Picasso—the Picasso museum. Definitely worth it, and it was free. It gives a great view into the art most people don’t know about: the very early, the very late, and the sketches, as wells as some ceramic pieces. A chronological arrangement, lending itself to learning about the artist’s life, introduced us to his Barcelonan presence and his earlier work which is an interesting mix of 1850s realism and 1940s-1950s American Regionalism, in my opinion. And we saw some famous ones too: Margot and the las Meninas sequence (a huge derivation on Velasquez’s work).

o Fireworks show(s), especially today’s at Avengida de Reina Maria Cristina, and Parc Montjuïc. Not only were the fireworks sweet, and I judged pretty shrewdly, but there was also a ‘tribute to pop and rock music’ playing in the background, which did everything from contemporary hits such as ‘Jesus of Suburbia—Green Day’ to name a good one, or ‘Girlfriend—Avril Lavigne’ on the other side of the spectrum, to ancient things. There was a water show with a large ornate fountain and a castle in the near background involved too. And did I mention the crowds—this makes Parisian riots seem miniscule.

o La playa—the beach. Lots of beachfront, though somewhat rocky, on the ever-beautiful Mediterranean. Lots of people tanning and some swimming. The setting is surrounded by apartments, modern 5* hotels, and odd looking modern public art (then again when is modern public art not odd looking?). Ben and I tanned and relaxed for a little and then we swam. The waves were rather large and the water rather salty, but fun anyway. Also, did I mention top-less was more than accepted here? Enough said.

That’s a good note to end on for now, that’s always a good note to end on.