Right from the start, being in Barcelona was just wonderful. We did have to fly into Girona Airport, which is about an hour’s bus ride from the city, but for the price of our EasyJet flight it was more than worth it. Not to mention the bus ride took us through some absolutely lovely countryside. The only other problem was that, while I was completely recovered from my infection, I managed to contract a cold my second night out of the hospital, and by the time we arrived in Spain my voice was completely shot. I couldn’t do much more than whisper and make squeaky noises. Still, I didn’t let that get in the way of enjoying Barcelona, and I just let Tommy do all the talking.
A quick metro ride got us from the bus station to our hostel, which was perfectly situated just north of the old city. It was about 9:00 pm when we arrived, and we were hungry. We planned to get some groceries, but all the stores were closed. We found a little cafe with affordable tapas, and got a pitcher of sangria–it was absolutely delicious!
The next day was bright and sunny and we set out to see the city. The main artery through la Ciutat Vella is La Rambla, a long street with a wide pedestrian walkway in its center, lined with trees. The walkway is lined with the typical stands selling flowers, magazines, or souveniers, but we were surprised to reach one stretch with a series of outdoor pet shops! Stands were set up on all sides filled with cages of birds, guinea pigs, bunnies, and hamsters. I couldn’t help but go from one to the next, admiring the animals. Every now and then one would have a real oddity, like a cage chock full of baby chickens, or some extreme breeds of pigeons with exaggerated feathers.
On our way down La Rambla, we ducked into La Boqueria, an immense covered market. Tommy and I have seen lots of markets of this kind on our trip so far, and I must say, La Boqueria beats them all by far. Never have I seen such amazing displays of beautiful food: piles of colorful and exotic fruits (including several of our South American favorites), huge collections of candies and chocolates, and fresh (occasionally still-moving) seafood. The fruit vendors sold amazing juice and fruit salad, some of which we sampled as we walked through.
We continued down La Rambla to the coast. It was a lovely sight, deep blue water and an avenue lined with palm trees. We walked down it into Barceloneta, another neighborhood near the beach. There we visited another market and had bocadillos, or sandwiches, for lunch. Then we walked down to the sandy beachfront. It was just perfect. The weather was cold, but in the bright sun it was hard to tell. It was packed with people relaxing, but there were still plenty of free lounge chairs to spare. We plopped ourselves down to enjoy the water and the weather. Every now and then hawkers would come by offering massages or “cervezabeer?” but we tuned them out.
We strolled east down the coast. I had my binoculars and was avidly searching for birds, as I had read online that the Barcelona waterfront was an excellent place to do it, but the diversity was pretty much limited to gulls and pigeons. But as we moved inland into a park, we began to hear the raucous squawks of parrots in the trees. There is apparently a pretty significant population of Monk Parakeets in the city, which can be seen feeding with the pigeons. Several of them had some cumbersome but very visible numbered tags around their necks, so I can only guess they are being studied by someone.
We wandered through the old city some more, seeing some of the older buildings and cathedrals. Then we walked to the immense park of Montjuic in the western part of the city. It was quite a hike up a steep hill, but the view from the top was worth it. Not to mention the gorgeous, perfectly-manicured gardens. We also found several sites from the 1992 Olympics, including the diving pool, which was filled with bathing gulls.
After a brief rest at our hostel, we went out for our one big night of tapas, which we had been looking forward to doing in Spain. We had located a nice-looking place called Taller de Tapas (“Tapas Workshop”) during our walk. We were excited to find that they had Quilmes, our favorite Argentine beer. We had two bottles and three different delicious tapas. We split an amazing chocolate dessert and some very sweet sherry. Our little meal was pretty pricey to us, and we watched in awe as the couples around us kept plates of tapas coming, along with plenty of wine and champagne. Maybe someday?
Our first day in Barcelona was just perfect. It was such a beautiful city. Unfortunately we knew we would not have another like it–the weather forecast was nothing but rain for the rest of our stay. The next day we decided to stick to indoor activities. The first of these (after sleeping in quite late) was a haircut for me. It had been maybe five months since my last one, at it was getting a little hard to deal with. Luckily, on our walk the day before we had stumbled across an English salon with the motto “Don’t let your Spanish get in the way of your hair!” The owner is from Britian, and everyone inside spoke perfect English. I got one of the best haircuts I’ve ever had there.
Our next stop was perhaps the best place in Barcelona to spend a rainy day: El Corte Inglés, Spain’s premiere department store. We’re talking nine stories of anything you’ve ever wanted. From the designer clothing, purses, and fragrances to home furnishings, electronics, and musical instruments, it was a fun place to wander through. We spent some time admiring lovely objects we couldn’t afford (if you haven’t seen a MacBook Air yet, go to Best Buy and check one out…wow)
Our last stop in El Corte Inglés was the counter of a wedding dress designer, Pronovias. I’m not the kind of girl who has been planning her perfect wedding for years, and when I got engaged I didn’t have a clue what kind of dress I wanted. My mother and sister bought me some bride magazines, and inside one of them, a single wedding dress caught my eye. It was simple and unique, and the only one I’ve ever seen a picture of and really liked. While I knew I could never afford it, I checked out who the designer was: Pronovias, Barcelona. Since we were going to be in Barcelona, I thought I might as well look them up. Why not? As it turns out, while they’re scarce in North America, in Barcelona it would be difficult to be in the city and not be on top of a Pronovias store. So in we went, to the little corner of El Corte Inglés roped off for the finest of Spanish wedding dress designers.
Since my voice was pretty much useless (like my Spanish) Tommy explained why we were there–we had seen a dress in a magazine that we were looking for. The lady working the desk did not speak English, but somehow with much gesturing and guessing at fashion vocabulary, we communicated what the dress looked like to her. She told us they did not have it there, but that the branch on Via Augusta should. Since they were closing soon, we decided to head over right away.
It was intimidating, to say the least–a stark, pale store with nary a wedding dress in sight, the walls lined with black and white photographs of extremely fashionable gowns. We had to ring a doorbell to get in. A sharply dressed Spanish woman let us in and asked how she could help us. When Tommy said I was looking for a wedding dress, she began taking out forms and asking for all sorts of information. I hoarsely prompted him to explain the specificity of our search. Between us, we were again able to communicate what the dress looked like, and they knew it immediately. Surprised that I only wanted to try on one gown, they beckoned me upstairs.
Thus began the first and (I predict) most bizarre dress fitting of my life. I was seated in a large room with a comfy sofa and a trifold mirror and pedastal. They had me don six-inch heels and an undergarment I later learned is called a can-can, which poofs out at the bottom to help fluff the dress. Then they brought it in. It was more than a little odd looking at the actual garment I had admired from maybe four thousand miles away. They helped put it on me and began fitting it to me. I knew more and more with every passing second that I did not belong in this store, trying on a dress I could not afford, but I was already standing there, so I simply continued pretending. When they were finished, I was a strange specimen of a bride–pristinely lovely from the front, and a mess of clips and excess toulle in the back. But the dress was beautiful. Tommy came in and the ladies gave us a minute alone, during which he frantically snapped pictures of me. Our plan is to try and get a similar dress made, possibly even in Thailand. We’ll see.
We did a little more shopping for things we’ve been needing, and also paid a visit to the Hospital de Sant Pau, an old and beautiful hospital which is still active. Fortunately it was just to sightsee and not for my readmission. The weather had changed drastically throughout the day; a single location could go from bright and sunny to dark and pouring and back again in only a matter of minutes. We cooked some pasta back at our hostel for dinner.
The next day, the forecast was a little more optimistic, so we caught a train to Montserrat. This area had been recommended in an EasyJet magazine on one of our flights, and we had been looking forward to checking it out. After an hour train ride out of Barcelona, you take a cable car up a mountain to the monastery of Montserrat, and there are several walking paths to other sites in the hills. The scenery is supposed to be spectacular. Unfortunately, the cable car took us straight up into a thick cloud where you couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of you. We tried a scenic walk but couldn’t see anything but a sea of fog. When it began to drizzle, we got some hot chocolate at the nice cafe there and headed back to Barcelona. We spent the rest of the day catching up on internet in the hostel until our evening flight to Madrid.
Katie and Tommy, how would you compare Buenos Aires and cities in Spain, and where would you go back first?
Mom
Well, the cities in Spain may have been a little prettier, but they were very touristy and much more expensive. Buenos Aires was still lovely, and it was easier to find its genuine, local side. Maybe it’s just because we were there longer, but we think we’d trade overpriced tapas for a parilla and Cafe Havanna any day of the week.
But we do want to go back to Spain and see more, and especially do some hikes in the countryside–it looked so beautiful from afar!
im a from a faraway corutny in latinoamerica colombia aqn d i love garbage with all my brain blood and soul any information is important to me please contact me (i dont knoww very much enghish) bye