Barcelona: Ramblas, Park Güell
Monday morning. I have a story for you. I mentioned that we arose early in the morning yesterday. At one point, in my grogginess, I noticed on the floor of the upstairs landing - tiny pieces of toilet paper. I brought my bag downstairs and set about closing the curtains. When I returned - toilet paper on the stair! It was starting to seem like an M. Night Shyamalan film. Surely these were signs - but of what?
Standing in the check-in queue at London Stansted - and there on the floor, another toilet paper piece!
As we unpacked our bags in our Barcelona flat - more toilet paper pieces! I have just finished sweeping them up. I dare not wonder what grim spectre haunts us, nor to what its portent; I merely hope it deserts us soon.
Breakfast at a "5J" café, down the Rambla de Catalunya. Croissant and hot chocolate for Sarah; Margo and I had baguettes - a sharp cheese in mine, a cured ham for Margo. The coffee is nice and strong.
I'm flipping through a 20 Minutos free daily newspaper. It seems some articles are in Spanish, others in Catalan. The latter is the regional language and seems to include elements of French (France is nearby) - instead of el or la, there's l', and d' for de.
Afternoon. Time to catch up. After breakfast, we continued down Rambla de Catalunya. We ran into old friends from Helsinki - large metal sculptures by a Spanish artist that were copies or had traveled there during our visit. We passed the Placa de Catalunya, a large square.
We'd also just passed from the wealthier, newer Eixample district into the Old City district, and the street name changes to La Rambla. You can see that there was still occasional rain.
This part of La Rambla features several stalls selling small (and of course cute) animals, like chicks and hamsters, as well as fish and turtles.
At one point Margo directed us to a side street that she'd researched earlier as it has some well-known sweets shops. We ended up at Dulcinea where we had xuros (churros) that we dipped in a hot chocolate sauce that was like a heated pudding. I noticed sawdust had been put on the floor.
Along La Rambla were performers, most of whom would be frozen until given coins. We'd been warned in guidebooks, and also by Michael on our arrival, to be wary of pickpockets in tourist areas like this. Attractions like these divert tourists' attention so others can check our pockets. We'd taken some precautions, but I personally hate the feeling of being preyed upon and I didn't enjoy myself as much as I would otherwise when walking through areas like this.
Next we visited the nearby Boqueria farmer's market. We browsed the aisles and picked up a sausage and cured ham slices, cherries and coconut slices.
We then found a café to the side of the market and got some lunch. Margo ordered tapas of: sliced baguette bread drizzled in olive oil with crushed tomatoes on top; cured ham slices; and slices of a sharp white cheese drizzled in olive oil and sprinkled with pepper.
We found the nearest Metro stop and bought 10-trip tickets, then rode a few stops back uphill to the Diagonal station, right near our flat. Siestas followed.
Margo had made a short list of household foods and drinks for me as I'd volunteered earlier to go shopping. I (swear I) pocketed the list and set off for a nearby grocer. When I got there and reached in my back pocket for the list, it was gone. It spooked me to think that it had been pinched and I'd not even felt it! But perhaps I'd just misplaced it. In any event, I had my wallet, keys and mobile in front pockets, so nothing important was lost.
Again I arose first and read through some of Margo's guidebooks to research attractions to visit while the others slept. I started by going out to get better pictures of some of the nearby Modernist buildings, including La Pedrera. It's not in the picture, but at the base of this street lamp is a tiled concrete bench also in the Modernist style.
Returning to the flat, the others were still sleeping, so I decided to take another small trip to the Park Güell. I rode the Metro a few stops uphill, and then found the walkway up to the park. It's a long climb, but escalators cover all but two blocks of it.
The first area I found was the Monument area, so I climbed it to capture a panoramic view. That was most of what I wanted to see. There was much more to explore, but I wanted to head back as I figured the others would be awake by now.
And that brings my narrative up to date. Margo's picked a nearby restaurant named La Bodegueta for dinner and we will leave shortly.
Evening. We decided to save our dinner destination for later in the evening. Most people don't go out for dinner until later. Some restaurants don't even reopen until 8.30. So we set out to find a gelateria and get some drinks, and Margo wanted time in an Internet café.
I remembered seeing a gelateria on the way to Rambla de Catalunya. It turned out to be a full-on restaurant with the word "Gelateria" on one face of its awning. We pressed on down the street and several blocks later settled upon a Haagen-Dazs shop. Scoops and a chocolately mouth ensued.
Next we stopped for drinks after a few more blocks. Fanta Limón for Sarah (what she's been drinking most often so far) and a half litre of sangria for Margo and I. Mmmmm.
Afterwards we split off, Sarah and I taking the Metro back to our flat, and Margo going on to the nearby Internet café.
After dinner. Sarah has been asserting her independence. At home, when I pick her up from school, at a half block from our house she likes to run ahead to our door. Sometimes she wants my key to open the door. Here, she wants to run down or up the building's stairs, while Margo and I ride the lift.
Margo picked a dinner recommendation from a guidebook. It was a good one. We arrived and got on the waiting list, waiting about ten minutes. On a Monday night! We ordered a bottle of Rioja and a Fresca Limón for Sarah. Then tapas: a baguette with cheese for Sarah; for the adult eaters ... chorizo slices; manchega cheese dribbled in olive oil; the olive-oil-and-crushed-tomatoes baguettes; patatas fritas (fried potatoes) with aoli and chile sauces; and omelette with potatoes cooked slowly with olive oil.
It's an old restaurant. Probably the first time I've noticed refrigerator doors in hardwood. Lots of old wood throughout. It was a very enjoyable meal.
Now we are back. I poured some more red wine for Margo and myself. We should sleep well.
Standing in the check-in queue at London Stansted - and there on the floor, another toilet paper piece!
As we unpacked our bags in our Barcelona flat - more toilet paper pieces! I have just finished sweeping them up. I dare not wonder what grim spectre haunts us, nor to what its portent; I merely hope it deserts us soon.
Breakfast at a "5J" café, down the Rambla de Catalunya. Croissant and hot chocolate for Sarah; Margo and I had baguettes - a sharp cheese in mine, a cured ham for Margo. The coffee is nice and strong.
I'm flipping through a 20 Minutos free daily newspaper. It seems some articles are in Spanish, others in Catalan. The latter is the regional language and seems to include elements of French (France is nearby) - instead of el or la, there's l', and d' for de.
Afternoon. Time to catch up. After breakfast, we continued down Rambla de Catalunya. We ran into old friends from Helsinki - large metal sculptures by a Spanish artist that were copies or had traveled there during our visit. We passed the Placa de Catalunya, a large square.
We'd also just passed from the wealthier, newer Eixample district into the Old City district, and the street name changes to La Rambla. You can see that there was still occasional rain.
This part of La Rambla features several stalls selling small (and of course cute) animals, like chicks and hamsters, as well as fish and turtles.
At one point Margo directed us to a side street that she'd researched earlier as it has some well-known sweets shops. We ended up at Dulcinea where we had xuros (churros) that we dipped in a hot chocolate sauce that was like a heated pudding. I noticed sawdust had been put on the floor.
Along La Rambla were performers, most of whom would be frozen until given coins. We'd been warned in guidebooks, and also by Michael on our arrival, to be wary of pickpockets in tourist areas like this. Attractions like these divert tourists' attention so others can check our pockets. We'd taken some precautions, but I personally hate the feeling of being preyed upon and I didn't enjoy myself as much as I would otherwise when walking through areas like this.
Next we visited the nearby Boqueria farmer's market. We browsed the aisles and picked up a sausage and cured ham slices, cherries and coconut slices.
We then found a café to the side of the market and got some lunch. Margo ordered tapas of: sliced baguette bread drizzled in olive oil with crushed tomatoes on top; cured ham slices; and slices of a sharp white cheese drizzled in olive oil and sprinkled with pepper.
We found the nearest Metro stop and bought 10-trip tickets, then rode a few stops back uphill to the Diagonal station, right near our flat. Siestas followed.
Margo had made a short list of household foods and drinks for me as I'd volunteered earlier to go shopping. I (swear I) pocketed the list and set off for a nearby grocer. When I got there and reached in my back pocket for the list, it was gone. It spooked me to think that it had been pinched and I'd not even felt it! But perhaps I'd just misplaced it. In any event, I had my wallet, keys and mobile in front pockets, so nothing important was lost.
Again I arose first and read through some of Margo's guidebooks to research attractions to visit while the others slept. I started by going out to get better pictures of some of the nearby Modernist buildings, including La Pedrera. It's not in the picture, but at the base of this street lamp is a tiled concrete bench also in the Modernist style.
Returning to the flat, the others were still sleeping, so I decided to take another small trip to the Park Güell. I rode the Metro a few stops uphill, and then found the walkway up to the park. It's a long climb, but escalators cover all but two blocks of it.
The first area I found was the Monument area, so I climbed it to capture a panoramic view. That was most of what I wanted to see. There was much more to explore, but I wanted to head back as I figured the others would be awake by now.
And that brings my narrative up to date. Margo's picked a nearby restaurant named La Bodegueta for dinner and we will leave shortly.
Evening. We decided to save our dinner destination for later in the evening. Most people don't go out for dinner until later. Some restaurants don't even reopen until 8.30. So we set out to find a gelateria and get some drinks, and Margo wanted time in an Internet café.
I remembered seeing a gelateria on the way to Rambla de Catalunya. It turned out to be a full-on restaurant with the word "Gelateria" on one face of its awning. We pressed on down the street and several blocks later settled upon a Haagen-Dazs shop. Scoops and a chocolately mouth ensued.
Next we stopped for drinks after a few more blocks. Fanta Limón for Sarah (what she's been drinking most often so far) and a half litre of sangria for Margo and I. Mmmmm.
Afterwards we split off, Sarah and I taking the Metro back to our flat, and Margo going on to the nearby Internet café.
After dinner. Sarah has been asserting her independence. At home, when I pick her up from school, at a half block from our house she likes to run ahead to our door. Sometimes she wants my key to open the door. Here, she wants to run down or up the building's stairs, while Margo and I ride the lift.
Margo picked a dinner recommendation from a guidebook. It was a good one. We arrived and got on the waiting list, waiting about ten minutes. On a Monday night! We ordered a bottle of Rioja and a Fresca Limón for Sarah. Then tapas: a baguette with cheese for Sarah; for the adult eaters ... chorizo slices; manchega cheese dribbled in olive oil; the olive-oil-and-crushed-tomatoes baguettes; patatas fritas (fried potatoes) with aoli and chile sauces; and omelette with potatoes cooked slowly with olive oil.
It's an old restaurant. Probably the first time I've noticed refrigerator doors in hardwood. Lots of old wood throughout. It was a very enjoyable meal.
Now we are back. I poured some more red wine for Margo and myself. We should sleep well.
posted by Michael Nelson at 12:54 am
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