Vacation Part IV: General Impressions

Here are a few pictures of some of the other things we did in Barcelona.

Walked around the old part of town, the "Gothic Quarter," where there were a ton of shops and cafes and quaint narrow streets.

From left to right: Laura, Annie, Jenny

This square was absolutely full of pigeons and/or doves. We had several major discussions, and did not come to any conclusions as to whether pigeons and doves are a different species or sub-species of the same species, analogous to wiener dogs and chihuahuas. In Spanish, there is only one word for both, paloma. (Don't call them palomitas though, because that is popcorn.) We saw the lady in this picture catch one with her bear hands and trap it in a bowl covered with a cloth.

We also saw the old cathedral, which in any other city would have been one of the main attractions, but now it's overshadowed by Gaudí's posthumous work in progress. In front of the old cathedral there was a little square, all sunlit and bordered by cafes, with a bluesy banjo group (with a real piano, in the street!) playing to the crowd. If nothing else, Barcelona has some high quality buskers. So much so that they need licences, and we saw a violinist get told off by some cops because he was unlicensed. (saw him again a few minutes later on a different street.) Unfortunately, we sat and listened in the sun too long, and the cathedral closed just before we tried to get in.

At least we could take pictures outside though, and so could everyone else. At on point, an American girl came up to me and asked if I could take a picture of her and her boyfriend. I said sure, but it must have come out funny, because her next question was "Do you speak English?" Which I thought was strange and hilarious, and kind of flattering that someone would assume (even after hearing me talk) that I might be Spanish, or at least not American. So I said, "yeah, I do" but I wish now I'd had the presence of mind to say something like, "nope, I don't understand a single word, I'm sorry. Would you still like me to take that picture for you?"

Actually, I'm guilty of making this mistake myself. While getting from the airport to the city center, I had to catch a train, but the schedule was confusing (Three different lines, but no markings on the platforms???) so I asked a guy (in Spanish) if this train that was here now was headed for the city center. For an answer, I got a confused look and "inglés?" Turns out he was French. And that the train should go to the center. (it did)

On the theme of talking to strangers, I also met a cool dude who worked in a cafe by the port. (here's a picture of the port to break up the textwall)

It was just Laura and I, since Annie and Jenny had gone off to see a Barça game, and after poking around the stalls and boats and museum for a while, we stopped at a coffee shop. Or snack bar, whatever you want to call it. But the guy at the counter had a weird accent that I could not for the life of me place (or understand really), so when we paid the bill, I asked him, where he was from. Argentina, turns out. He told me about how he doesn't like Barcelona, and wants to go home and buy a motorcycle and ride through the Americas south to north like Che Guevara. Good luck, random cafe guy, good luck.

Then we met up with Annie and Jenny (Barcelona won) and rode on a cable car.

Cable car towers

And accidentally a parade.

Because it was Carnival.

I felt kinda like I should be at the Kinetic Sculpture Race

Also a park with this monument/sculpture/fountain dedicated to Sant Jordi (saint george) the patron saint of Barcelona.

Overall I enjoyed Barcelona and did not get mugged or robbed at all. I can imagine that in the summer, the crowds are awful and that with more tourists, crime is more of a problem. It was nice being in a big city, but, like my Argentine friend, I wouldn't want to live there--too many tourists, too much city, generally overwhelming. 

It is a much more international kind of city than anywhere else I have been in Spain (though I've only really seen Galicia so far) and hearing English and being spoken to in English as the default medium of communication was jarring. I suppose it makes sense though, as English becomes more and more the lingua franca (literally, the french language, hahaha) of the world. The frenchman on the train did not ask me if I spoke French, but English, though he may have picked up on my accent or anglo-saxon heritage. 

Barcelona, I'll come back when I'm in my next life stage to see how your cathderal's coming. Or if I need to fly anywhere outside Spain.