We hadn’t read much about the city before leaving, but thankfully we didn’t need to. The city offers surprisingly few tourist attractions: a charming pedestrian zone with creepy street performers, gads of art nouveau architecture (called “Moderismé”), a Picasso museum, and a shiny day star called the sun (unknown in Germany).
But its lack of “must-sees” didn’t damper our days, as we spent our “in-between-sights” time enjoying much-needed 60-degrees-and-sunny weather, the labyrinthine medieval gothic quarter, and delicious grub.
I’ve been to this Catalan capital before, but neither Kate nor Josh had had the opportunity – nay the delectable privilege – to sample its paella, sangria, and Serrano ham. So after arriving, unloading our packs, and energizing ourselves with a buttery pastry (I went for the pound-and-a-half cream danish), we cheerfully set out to discover the sights and tastes of this Mediterranean metropolis … and get lost doing so.
I’ve been to this Catalan capital before, but neither Kate nor Josh had had the opportunity – nay the delectable privilege – to sample its paella, sangria, and Serrano ham. So after arriving, unloading our packs, and energizing ourselves with a buttery pastry (I went for the pound-and-a-half cream danish), we cheerfully set out to discover the sights and tastes of this Mediterranean metropolis … and get lost doing so.
Although Kate and I both liked the place, Josh seemed a little scared.
Anyway, it had a playful mix of styles that all reflected nature in some way (spires shaped like grapes, columns made to look like chestnut trees, honey-comb-like decorations), and is well worth the time and money. AND it made me hungry for churros. (Pronounced “¡¡¡¡CHURROS!!!!” because we’re always way too happy and excited when it’s time to eat them.)
Afterward we rambled and ambled through the sun-drenched, palm-laden, lake-centered park, watching men with no rowing experience unwittingly paddle their families in circles. What fun! (First picture)
We then watched the jugglers again while working on our tans. Somewhere between the lake and the jugglers my belly growled for churros (¡¡¡¡CHURROS!!!!), but I knew I had to contain myself….for tonight was the Pièce de résistance of our trip: Spanish game food at a real, honest-to-goodness European Futbol match.
Josh had purchased soccer tickets for all three of us to see FC Barcelona trounce underdog Santander Sunday night and I could tell he was excited. He wanted action. He wanted crazy European hooliganism. I wanted flan.
On a good note, Barcelona won, 1-0. On a sad note, I’m sorry to say they didn’t offer flan at the soccer match (only a sports-a-phobe like me would actually think such a nonsensical victual would be offered at a sporting event.). But despite the flan-less-ness of the trip, we liked Barcelona.
It was a relaxingly simple getaway filled with sun, fun, and a Mediterranean feel. And of course churros (¡¡¡¡CHURROS!!!!).
2 comments:
Some pesky kid must have loosened the top on that pepper shaker in hopes that something like that would happen….That Stinks.
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