Barcelona (Catalonia, not Spain) is a marvelous European city, a little like a lot of other European cities, a mashup – a bit of ancient history like Rome (Roman, Gothic, Medieval); a bit of art like Paris (Picasso, Dali, Miro); a bit of narrow, street mazes and comfortable plazas like Florence; a bit of architecture like Prague (moderisme); and a couple of miles of Mediterranean beaches like southern France. And the crowded flurry of Las Ramblas, a shaded pedestrian boulevard, lined with shops selling birds and flowers, performing artists and caricaturists, and creepy human statues, over-priced sidewalk cafes (the Hotel Oriente, Hemingway’s favorite hotel, where a cervesera grande (large beer) costs about $25 (a block or so off Las Ramblas, on any side street, the same beer will cost about $5)). The people are friendly, if somewhat aloof, best experienced away from the tourist areas. As are the restaurants, cafes, bars, bodegas, and cervecerias. There are hawkers and beggars and homeless and pickpockets, and it’s best to keep as far away from tourist areas except when sight-seeing demands it (Las Ramblas, the cathedral, Park Guell, the harbor and beach). The police are evident on the harbor and the beach, safe but sterile, on motorcycles or horses or in small cars, a quiet presence only. The metro system is efficient and easy to maneuver. Most attendants in hotels and restaurants can speak at least a little English, or tolerate kindly idiot attempts at Spanish or Catalan. It takes a few days to figure out how to order coffee, as different places apparently have different interpretations of each type of coffee. Car traffic is light, and the honking of horns nonexistent. Vehicles stop for pedestrians crossing in crosswalks. There is supposedly no nudity on the beach, but it is possible to see a topless middle-aged woman showering at sand’s edge or a completely nude middle-aged man strolling along the boardwalk. Possible to see, but not welcomed. Much more engaging and less jiggly is the architecture, and the food.
I've recently entered the afterlife of retirement and want to use this blog to record my observations, reflections, reactions, musings, and whatever else might strike my fancy, personal, cultural, political -- nothing, dear reader, you should be interested in or waste your time with. Que scais-je?
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Barcelona
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