We've spent so much time in Barcelona, taking part in a slow travel movement and really getting to know the city, which has been utterly amazing. The nightlife is crazy here and the parties don't stop till the break of dawn. Some, even, continue on after that. Our days have been filled with late awakenings, late lunches, late siestas, and dinner and drinks around 10pm. Sometimes we'll walk over to Gracia, or even to the Ramblas to pursue a danceclub around 1am or 2....the bars are filled with so much smoke, sweat, and people making out. Drinks cost an arm and a leg, so we are forced to find street vendors selling illegal cervasas for 1 euros. A bargain worth the relatively low risk of getting caught.
We have hung out with some local fellows, Catalonians, who have been kind enough to speak to us in English. I feel guilty for not speaking Spanish, and when I venture out on day trips alone, I always speak in Spanish (or Castellano, here).
Hangovers abound, and the food is actually quite good, despite what my friends have said. Their palettes are accustomed to the relentless spices found in the international cuisine of San Francisco.
Lost in Translation
A few days ago we went to a restaurant at 10:30, the only paellador open. We ordered paella noir, colored with squid ink, from the server. He told me it would take 20 to 25 minutes and I said that was fine. The server was behaving a bit oddly, but we didn't think much of it. He brought Jen a bottle of wine, even though she only asked for a cup. And about 10 minutes after we placed the order for paella, we decided to snack on pa amb tomaquet, a local appetizer of bread with olive oil, salt, and tomato spread on top. The watier said "nada mas?" "eso es total?" and continued to behave strangely; he walked away and placed the order with the kitchen.
We got our bread and snacked for abit. And then about an hour passed by and we realized that our paella was taking way too long. Our appetites had subsided, with the drink and the bread, and about 20 more minutes went by and we finally asked for the check. He didn't say anything about the missing paella, and the bill was only 9 euros. We went home confused, giggling, amused by our lack of communication skills.
Em pots posan una cervesa, sius plau?
Can I have a beer please? (in catalan)
Radiohead at Parc del Forum
The venue was a big open parking lot sort of thing, like the places that host the Warped Tour or similar festivals. Clinic was pretty bad, Liars was weird, and Bats for Lashes was interesting. Jen and I spent most of our time lounging on bean bags chairs in an artificially grassy area. Radiohead rocked out, the crowd was very into it, singing and dancing along. I was surprised at how small the crowd was - I imagined a huge stadium, full of drunk Spanish kids - but I welcomed the relative quaintness of it all.
Ai ai ai!
Barcelona is host to all kinds of music festivals over the summer, which helps fill our time here with authenticity....not just tourist filled streets and beaches, we are getting down with the locals in the smaller parts of the city. Ai ai ai played last weekend in the crowded Placa del Revolucio. Street beers were up to 1.50 because of the festivities, but it was still way more fun and way cheaper than going to a club. Ah, but we did end up going back to a club that we visited the first weekend - Otto Zutz - it was hip hop night and Jen was digging the grooves of the DJ. We dragged our friends Julian, Chris, and another guy (sorry, guy, none of us remember your name!!) to the club, and we danced until dawn.
I'm a quarter of century old
Birthday drinking began in the placa and continued pretty much all weekend. Saturday was very hungover but we managed to go to a flea market in Glories with Giorgos. From there, we walked a few miles to the beaches of Barceloneta, had some lunch and then a siesta. We went out to dinner with our local friends and much was discussed. It gets a little exhausting, trying to explain the U.S. and all of its stupid intricacies, how different the coasts are from the middle, the language, the government, our priorities. I insisted that like Catalonia from Spain, we West-coasters should try to become our own nation-state. We talked about race, politics, nationalism, music....we went to a Pub and had a drink called a bull, which consisted of a little lemonade, tequila, amstel beer and ice. It tasted like a cross between a red bull, vodka and a long island iced tea! and it was very drunk. We tried to get into one night club, but our friend picked a fight with the bouncer so we weren't allowed in. We decided to go to Sidecar, which is sort of like Cafe du Nord of San Francisco, except hotter and smokier. The music was U.S./U.K. indie-pop but we didn't recognize any of the songs they played. By 5:30am Jen wanted to go home....she got a little pissed at me for procrastinating our departure.
Okupa: Can Maseu
Sunday morning/afternoon we took the metro to the northern edge of the city, which is in the foothills of the mountains. We walked up a dirt road to visit this place called an Okupa in Catalan. The building was an old public leper colony/hospital, deserted and re-inhabited by some people that wanted to make it into a self-sustainable commune. They have photo-voltaic panels, different levels of farms with fruits and veggies, running water and a sewage system. On sundays, the people living their open up Rurbar, a little cafe with homemade breads and coffee, and they serve a menu for cheap (4 euros) using foods grown mostly on the farm. We had a veggie puree/soup, salad, and paella, all organic. The guys cooked the paella in a huge pan (possibly 4 feet in diameter) in the center of this big room, full of information about sustainability, the government, and general awareness. I read a magazing about the ever-changing definition of a terrorist, the government's policies on privacy, and a list of the wort corporations of 2001 (the pamphlet was a little old) - most coming from the U.S., of course: Coca-cola, Walmart, Bayer, Abbott labs, and many more.
We sat around for a while after lunch, people conversing, relaxing, watching a german shephard puppy playing in the grass, reading, etc.
Something I've been wanting to do for a long time is live like this. Just the basics. Back to the simply life of working in a community, eating food grown from a garden and giving the waste back to the earth. Dara told me of an international organization (I think it's called WOOF) of farmers and farms that host travelers in exchange for working the land. I think I will do this next summer. It tears me apart -- wanting to become a doctor, but also wanting to live like this. In the U.S., these are opposite ways of life, and there is no real compromise. The more I think about living in the U.S., the more I want to leave, and I lost sleep over these very ideas a few nights ago.
Other okupas exist in Gracia and elsewhere, abandoned buildings that become occupied by "squatters". But from what we heard, the inhabitants take care of the homes and they fix them up. The police or the owner may become aware of the situation and try to kick the people out. But apparently there are still a lot around here, bands play in them and they host parties in this somewhat anarchist neighborhood of Gracia.
Figueres and San Sebastian (Donostia)
I keep trying to make plans to take a trip to San Sebastian, in Basque country, and also to Figueres to see the Dali museum. I really like his art growing up, and I'd love to visit his museum. Unfortunately, Jen got sick shortly after visiting Can Masdeu, so this week has been sort of a downer.
Giving back to our gracious host
Giorgos and I made a trip to the paint store to buy paint....for every room of hs place. We picked out a color that I deemed "Gracia Green" which is hard to explain...but it's a medium green with subtle hint of blue. It's soft, and slightly dark, but after we got 2 coats of paint on, it looks really nice. We also bought light yellow, blue, and a deep red for the doors - Giorgos wanted traditional colors found in Barcelona. Jen and I bought him a nice little dining table for the room, as a thank you for his tremendous generosity. We are so fortunate to have this place to stay.
More to come.Some observations:
-Barcelonians can be kind of rude. They give Jen and I evil looks, and the customer service is generally pretty poor
-They love ham here. You can't walk down the street here without seeing pig legs hanging from windows. It's really disgusting.
-Asides from clothing, I love their non-labeling of products. There's the meat store, the bread store(the bread here is semi-stale all the time and when I eat bocadillos, the roof of my mouth gets rough and tough), the cheese store, the pharmacy, the market, etc, but there isn't so many goddam choices like there are in the U.S. and it makes things a lot less complicated.
-pigeons and parrots abound in barcelona!
-i am suffering from a severe lack of quality, lake merritt-style sleep.
Cheers!
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