So. We ended up going to Barcelona because the Foo Fighters blew us off in June, when Dave Grohl "broke" his "leg" by falling off a stage in "Sweden." He then had major surgery, canceled a handful of tour dates--including the one in St. Gallen, for which we'd had tickets since the previous Christmas, natürlich--and was soon back on the road for the remainder of their "I'm now rocking out on a purple throne on-stage, this is officially our best tour ever" tour. (Thanks a heap, Scandinavia.) We regrouped, paid seriously inflated prices to go see the band in Barcelona in November, and were then shut down again when they canceled the rest of their European tour in its entirety after the Paris attacks. I hope you all know that I know that life's not really all about me, but I'm starting to take this whole Foo Fighters thing a bit personally. Concert cancellation notwithstanding, though, we still had a trip to Barcelona booked, and so off we went. (DISCLAIMER: As with Magyar and Turkish, it's difficult to find and then type correctly all of the various accents over and under the letters in Castilian and Catalan, so I'm just not going to bother. Apologies to anyone who knows and loves these languages.)
We arrived mid-day, checked into our hotel in the swanky Eixample neighborhood, and headed out. First stop: the Barri Gotic (Gothic Quarter, to the layperson) and the Santa Eulalia cathedral, of course. It dates mainly to the 14th century, but that Gothic facade, oddly enough, is from the 19th.
The stand-out feature of the interior is the ornate set of choir stalls from the 14th and 15th centuries, painted with the coats of arms from the Order of the Golden Fleece (which is a real thing and still exists) and carved with ridiculously detailed and entirely individual misericords. (Just, wow.)
View from inside the choir stalls. It's pretty impressive, I don't mind saying.
Detail of one of the gajillion (...or maybe just 29) side chapels. This is the altarpiece of St. Sever, from 1693.
The cloister's lovely, too, and has an utterly unexplained pen full of geese with their own pond. ("Oh, those? They're the cloister geese, of course. Who doesn't have cloister geese, in this day and age?")*
Gratuitous exterior shot, complete with 4th-century Roman tower.
There are three of them, just outside of the cathedral.
Around the corner from the cathedral is the 14th-century palace of the Requesens, which is built on top of the 4th-century Roman walls.**
Post-cathedral and Gothic Quarter stroll, we stopped at a little cafe in a little plaza (with our backs to yet more Roman walls, no less!) and ordered up a snack of spicy tuna and some sangria. The guy with the guitar was already there busking, but then this happened: the old guy wandered past, struck up a conversation, and then began belting out flamenco songs with the guitar player. Magic. (I think that was the precise moment that I decided to run away to Barcelona.)
And then, we watched the second half of a soccer game in which FC Barcelona positively trounced Real Madrid 4-1, before heading to dinner, which we would have missed, had the Foo Fighters concert been a "go". (In retrospect, given my current bitterness against said Fighters, this was definitely a check in the "we're winning!" column.) Since it was not, however, we had to wing it. I knew that Mike has a serious man-crush on the entire Adria family, and because it's quite literally impossible to get into Tickets, I booked us at Pakta, an Albert Adria, casual-atmosphere-with-fancy-eats project featuring Japanese-Peruvian-Catalan food. That description defies understanding, I am aware, but good Lord. The food.
Why yes, they did give us a copy of the menu printed on sparkly gold paper. (I love it when they give you the menu, although because of this paper, it's almost unreadable.)
Because we have no sense of what's good for us, we went for the biggest tasting menu. Thankfully the portions were tiny, and so there was far less pain than, say, the last time we had a gigantic tasting menu in Barcelona. Everything was outrageously good, but for me, the standouts were the starter plate with six little bites...
So fancy! So tasty!
...and the causas--three single bites of potato, done three extremely different ways: one with tuna and tuna-shrimp-avocado mayo and wasabi; one stuffed with spicy cheese sauce; and one with fried chicken and Peruvian mint...so much flavor in a single bite.
Chicken on the left, cheese in the middle, and tuna on the right. Yummmmmmm.
I have photos of every single dish on that menu, courtesy of Mike, but I'll spare you those, as there's so much more to cover! (Although I must mention: we went for the drink pairing, as well, but the only thing that really struck me as special was the chicha, a Peruvian soft drink made from purple corn. Super amazing and delicious.) That having been said, though, if you find yourself in Barcelona and are looking for something special, eat at Pakta. You will NOT regret it.
But back to the non-food! Day 2 began with pastries and unspectacular coffee on our way back into the Barri Gotic.
GAH, THE TAPAS KILL ME! So many! So colorful! WANT TO EAT THEM ALL!
Strolled past Santa Maria del Pi and a little market in front of it.
Seen on one of the narrow shopping streets: "Don't lean on the Buddha, please." Heh.
And then, to our main destination for the day: the Palau Musica Catalana, a concert hall built between 1905 and 1908 by Lluis Domenech i Montaner (one of Barcelona's preeminent Modernismo architects, and a direct competitor of Gaudi's!) for the Orfeo Catala, a popular nonprofessional (but still extremely high-level) singing group of the day. To use a modern term, the building was crowd-funded: that is, it was financed in its entirety by both the singing group and by the community that loved them. The Orfeo still exists, and this is their practice and concert space.
Due to the narrowness of the street it's on, you can't actually take a picture of the full facade unless you have a wicked wide-angle lens.
"Catalan Song" sculpture on the corner of the Palau, depicting a woman representing Catalan music, supported by a group of figures from Catalan history and mythology.
The concert hall itself, which is literally breath-taking. (Well, it took mine, anyway.) Note enormous sculpted tree on the upper left and thunderous herd of horses on the upper right. (That pipe organ extends three meters deeper than what is visible, and can be played by remote control. Not a recording of it, mind you, but programmed songs that actually put air through the pipes.)
Around the back of the stage are figures of various muses from cultures around the world, half-sculpted so that they appear to be emerging from the wall.
Terrible shot of the ornate skylight overhead, which they call "The Glowworm" and which represents the sun.
View towards the back of the hall. Note winged horses in the corners of the upper tier.
Outside on the balcony, where the columns were intended to give the illusion of the hall being further away than it actually is from the buildings across the street.
View from the upper balcony, where one notices that the skylight is three-dimensional.
You know how much of an Art Nouveau freak I am, people, and so I am not going to pull any punches: this is one of the most amazing buildings in that style that I have ever seen. It's not as revolutionary as any of the Gaudi constructions (which is probably for the best, seeing as how his buildings tend to make me feel a bit seasick), but the artistry, detail, and beauty here are flat-out mind-boggling. And it struck me as a bit of a feminist building, seeing as how all of the sculptures onstage and outside prominently feature strong, inspiring women. (Yeah, ok, there are a few busts of influential and musical men around the place, but they're just busts. Lotsa leading ladies here.)
Next, over to La Boqueria for some lunch. Yes, I know this is the tourists' market, but the cafes around the edges serve up some pretty darn fresh and delicious seafood. (Just don't buy anything else there, if you're looking to avoid being price-gouged...)
No shortage of ham here!
I have to appreciate the sheer number of foods on sticks: so convenient for eating at one's leisure while strolling around and perusing the goods!
Dragonfruit to go, plus chocolate-covered things, also on sticks.
Tapas tree! Sandwiches on sticks. (You see the theme here.)
Also featured: plenty of icy-cold juices and smoothies. (Say what you will about the tourist market, but these people have mad display skillz. I want it all.)
Lunch! Here, a lovely and fresh seafood salad featuring monkfish, octopus, cod, clams, mussels, red onions, and bell peppers. And a little drizzle of balsamic. (Not pictured: the gorgeous plate of grilled veggies and the shrimp cooked in garlic oil that we also ate.)
These people were sitting around the corner from me, and I was so jealous of their food selection that I wanted to be friends with them. They had octopus with boiled potatoes and paprika (Galician-style); a plate of absolutely massive fried calamari rings; snails in some sort of tomato-y looking sauce; and a bowl of meatballs. Our own food was fantastic...just wished I had enough room to eat everything they had, as well.
I legitimately think Gaudi was crazy. Artistically and structurally brilliant, but probably mostly insane. How else could your brain come up with these kinds of things?? Here, the Dragon Stairway and Hypostyle Room.
All those things that appear at first glance to be single tiles are actually mosaics made of broken tiles, reglued to fit the crazy shapes of Gaudi's designs.
The "Warden's House," whose waiting time was 45 minutes. We skipped it in favor of being outdoors. (Yes, of course we'll go back sometime. I'm running away there, aren't I??)
This wacky thing was originally the "Porter's Lodge," but functions now as the "gift shop."
Ceiling medallion--one of many--in the Hypostyle Room.
Bench bordering the Nature Square, which is built on top of the Hypostyle Room. (Also a thousand-thousand fiddly little mosaic bits here, too. It's staggering and gorgeous.)
View towards the sea from the Nature Square.
Gaudi's house! He lived here between 1906 and 1925 and it contains many of his own touches.
Like this amazing lamp (want) and flowery ceiling (also want).
Also inside, a model of what they think Sagrada Familia would have looked like, had Gaudi's plans survived.
One of many "viaducts" constructed by Gaudi to connect parts of the Parc Guell housing development over the hilly terrain. Standing inside these things feels like you're inside the ribcage of something.
See? It's so weird.
It was getting really, really dark by the time we reached this, the thing I most wanted to see: the Laundry Room Portico. (Nope, don't know why it's called that.)
Another part of the Laundry Room Portico.
As we were leaving, the side of the Nature Square was totally tourist-free. Too bad it was dark.
For dinner that night, we had some utterly forgettable tapas. A total disappointment, given the culinary riches of that city, but we didn't really put in the work to find a good place, and it showed. Sigh. At least we had good food to look forward to the following day, however: FOOD TOUR, HERE WE COME.
On day 3, after a 10-degree-Celsius drop in temperature (hello, winter!) we skipped breakfast*** and rendezvoused with our guide, Dave, in front of the Santa Caterina market, which began its life as a monastery in the 13th century (in turn, built on top of both the ruins of an older Gothic church and a Roman necropolis, don't you know!), but was demolished and turned in to the city's second oldest covered market in 1845. (Just FYI, there are over forty covered markets in this city. Again, AHEM, ZÜRICH. We don't even have one.)
I mention all this history 'cause it's a pretty fascinating building: the white part underneath is the preserved facade from the 19th-century market, and that wavy roof (from about 2005) is covered in a colorful mosaic of 325,000 tiles. Very Gaudi-esque.
A small corner of the market is a wee museum that shows the foundations of the ancient monastery, which are still entirely intact under Santa Caterina. Cool.
First stop of the day was a little cafe at the front of the market, where we sampled some Barcelonan (Barcelonian? Barcelanian? I don't know...) coffee, a Spanish tortilla (like a frittata with potatoes and onion), and pan amb tomaquet, which is toasted bread seasoned with olive oil and salt, and rubbed with special spreadin' tomatoes (not kidding). I'm not a fan of raw tomatoes, but man, is that stuff tasty.
Next, we took a jaunt through the market itself, where Dave talked about the plethora of mushrooms (they're in season, and local); the varieties of Catalan sausage (one in particular used to be primarily made of egg, so that it was kosher for the local Jewish population); the differences between various types of hams; and how people really only eat vegetables at home.
Next stop, the bacalla stand, where they sell just about every cut of salted, dried cod that you can imagine, as well as some prepared cod dishes that looked exquisite. (These are not the dried variety, but the fresh cod are far more interesting to look at.) We tried out a fried cod croquette, then left the market for our next destination...
...Granja Camprodon, a little mom-n-pop, farm-to-table shop that's been in the city since 1945. They served us up some of their famous unsweetened whipped cream, along with more tomato bread (each one better than the last!) and a platter of chorizo, cheese, and a sampling of that used-to-be-kosher sausage, which now contains a little pork, as does basically everything in a casing in Barcelona. (Also pictured: olives from the market, one of which tasted of pizza seasonings.)
Next stop: Xocolata Brunells, a bakery and candy shop, where I spotted this lovely fresh (and so cheap!) bread. Right next to the gold fish.
There we sampled some Encenalls de Sant Josep, or St. Joseph's bracelets, which appear in essentially every food shop window, but were a bit of a mystery until Dave introduced us to them. And now we know: they're basically an extruded meringue, baked with almonds and coated in dark chocolate, and are so, so good.
Next door at La Campana, we tried out some torron (nougat with nuts, but with this crazy spun-sugar texture!), and Dave pointed out this nifty thing: it's a plaque in the sidewalk, placed there by the city to honor business of longstanding quality and tradition.
Then we went to my new favorite neighborhood, El Born, for some roasted almonds at Casa Gispert. (They, too, have the sidewalk plaque, for being "master roasters" since 1851.) People, I will not deny that I love those chemically-flavored, heavily salted, "smoked" almonds that you can buy at the grocery store...but what we had at Casa Gispert was the real thing. No salt, no chemicals, just insanely good toasted nuts, with that smoky, savory flavor. Holy moly.
Across from Casa Gispert, we ducked into the stunning Santa Maria del Mar, the shell of which dates to 1383. This place, somehow, is way bigger on the inside than the on the outside. It's amazing.
Outside Santa Maria del Mar is the rather sobering Placa del Fossar de les Moreres, a memorial square built over the mass grave of those who perished fighting against the Spanish invasion of Catalonia in 1714. Make no mistake: that invasion, plus the subsequent suppression of Catalan language and culture, are still very fresh in the minds of the Catalan people, especially during their current (well, really, essentially ongoing for the better part of 300 years) push for independence from Spain. (This place is something of a place of pilgrimage for modern Catalans; the people in the bright yellow vests had come by bicycle and were showing the square to their small children.)
Speaking of separatism: Catalan pro-independence flags were everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. The lower flag here is particular even to this neighborhood, Barceloneta; it has both the Catalan stripes, as well as a lighthouse and fishing boat to represent the traditional livelihood here (i.e., the sea).
Maybe my favorite place on the tour was in Barceloneta: La Cova Fumada, or "The Smoky Cave." If you don't know about it, then this place doesn't exist: it has no website, and no sign outside, and you are absolutely expected to know what you want when you walk in. (If you can get in, that is.) Here, we wedged ourselves onto the end of a table we shared family-style with a friendly English man and his sweet Dutch girlfriend, and chowed down on some bombas (fried potato-and-pork balls topped with a gravy-like sauce and something spicy); grilled squid with white beans (there are no words); octopus with caramelized onions (so rich!); and baby razor clams (taste like delicious clams, but also sweet corn...?).
Next stop, Bodega Fermin for some vermouth-and-soda and a small plate of mojama--cured tuna served with olive oil and almonds. Had no idea vermouth was so tasty, or that cured tuna plus almonds equals crazy delicious.
Then, a quick walk along the (entirely man-made) beach, past these guys making a Park Guell sandcastle (!)...
...past some super yachts parked in the harbor...
...to our last stop of the day, Vila Viniteca, where they had the cheese room of my dreams. (I'll take one for my house, please and thank you.) (Also, this place is across the street from a nondescript little bakery that told Ferran Adria that no, he could not, in fact, have the recipe for their famed millefeuille.)
At Vila Viniteca, we tried three varieties of jamon; a glass of cava; the last (and best) tomato bread of the day...
...and the aforementioned millefeuille. Cream-filled and super light and flaky, and just the best way to end the tour.
After saying our goodbyes to Dave (a truly excellent and fun guide!), we traipsed back through the old town...
...past Santa Maria del Mar...
...and such things as this, near the cathedral...
...and into the Museo de la Moto de Barcelona, about which we knew approximately zero. Sadly, their permanent exhibition was closed for renovations, so this was all we could see of it. A shame, too, since it looks like there's some neat old bikes in there.
Instead, we were ushered into a small room with an exhibit about the Bultaco motorcycle, a brand of dirt track racing bikes about which we also knew zero. There was a lot of enthusiasm in that room for this particular brand, though, and it was fun to learn about something entirely new. And I liked their 1970s-style font. ("Streaker," though...?)
There was this, too: the 1970 Gaviota, which was designed by Paco Bulto (Bultaco's creator) for his daughter so that she could ride around town comfortably while wearing a skirt. Heh.
With the museum visit having taken about 15 minutes, we had plenty of time to kill before dinner, so we set off to wander around some more, and found ourselves in the Placa Reial. Which is not only seriously atmospheric and grand, but also had a craft fair in the middle full of artists making things from only recycled materials. I think we bought stuff from at least two-thirds of the booths there, as those people were all incredibly skilled and creative artisans, working with some amazing materials. (Example: Mike bought a speaker made of an old tin milk container, and one lady was making some impressively lovely jewelry out of spent Nespresso cartridges, I kid you not.)
Placa Reial. Now imagine being surrounded by this on all four sides.
Then, we tried to visit the Palau Guell, an early Gaudi construction, but they literally closed the doors on us as we tried to buy tickets, so we changed course and headed over to check out the Modernismo museum.
Stupid Gaudi thing, closing as we arrived.
But hey, this! I now desperately, desperately desire a 10-foot-tall wood-and-copper Modernismo fireplace. Can someone make that happen, please?
Super pretty little clock that I'm also fairly sure I need.
Mike and I both stood staring slack-jawed at this writing desk for several minutes, trying to figure out how all the angles and rounded edges lined up when it was closed. And also, look at the the crazy, crazy amount of detail here. (Desk from 1907 by Joan Busquets i Jane.)
I always thought cloisonné was a smooth enameling technique, but in this museum, it was thousands of teensy little beads, and so, so sparkly.
Modernismo piano??? Mind blown.
This has none of the flowery foofery of most of the other decorative Art Nouveau items which I so adore, but man, is it pretty. And elegant. (By Enric Claraso Daudi, about 1903.)
...aaaaand we're back to foofery. There was a rather large collection of these terra cotta, polychromed busts and decorative mirrors by Lambert Escaler i Mila (from about 1902), and I think I took pictures of every. single. one.
The Four Seasons, by Gaspar Camps, 1907. (Mucha's are the iconic ones, I think, but I certainly wouldn't say no if someone were to give me a set of these, as well. So pretty.)
And finally. on to dinner. Yes, we were a bit peckish even after our food tour (to be fair, 5 hours after!), and decided to give another Adria restaurant a go. It felt a little weird to be eating Mexican food in Spain, but holy smokes, was Nino Viejo good. Even more casual than Pakta, it's essentially an upscale taqueria, and we got a seat at the bar, where we could watch the kitchen in action.
We started with wee cups of adobo-seasoned olives and toasted pepitas, followed by some outrageously good guacamole (accompanied, for me, by a darn good margarita with salt foam [!] on top, in a sly nod to the good ol' molecular gastronomy days at el Bulli); above is our second dish, baked poblanos with melted cheese and cream and just-made corn tortillas. Plus salsa verde, a charred red salsa, habanero salsa, and a side of habanero oil for Mike, who can never have his food hot enough.
Next came a raw tuna tostada with avocado puree on top, followed by octopus ceviche with lemon and red achiote seasoning; and then came the tacos (above): one with fried sea bass, one with al pastor pork (chile and pineapple), and one with pulled beef.
Next up came a plate of pork belly carnitas and a plate of off-the-bone pork ribs in a red sauce, both accompanied by more of those fresh corn tortillas; and finally, dessert was crema Catalana for Mike (how fitting!) and a frozen tamarind popsicle for me. Yes, obviously, we ordered too much, but there was not a single drop of anything left by the end. So. Ridiculously. Good. And super fun and friendly service, too!****
Day 4 began with coffee, cakes, and toast at Caelum, a darling little shop and cafe in an old monastery, whose front window looks like this:
Yup, we're eating here.
With just a bit of time to kill before heading to the airport, we decided to duck into Santa Maria del Pi, built between around 1320 and 1453, and destroyed and rebuilt several times during the ensuing centuries. They seem rather proud of their bell tower, in that it served as a lookout for spotting enemy troops during the 17th and 18th centuries, and their bells, which rang (along with those of the cathedral) to spur on the city's defenders. Because of this, it often drew heavy fire during sieges, especially during that of the Spanish in 1714 (...there's that date again). There's even an exhibit on the events of 1714 in the crypt, and a cannonball on view in the church's small museum that crashed through the vault during that same siege. (Alongside a mention of the bombardment of the city by the Spanish in again 1842, in retribution for a rebellion brought about by changes in the city's trade structure.) And the place was burned again during the Spanish Civil War, in 1936, which would explain why the interior is as spartan as it is now (and comparatively unremarkable, in the context of other grand churches in the city: no frilly choir stalls, very modern side chapels, newer stained glass, etc.). From their exhibits, and the general price-of-place air here, I get the distinct impression that, were any sort of modern-day Catalan insurgency to arise, this is where it would start.
The famous bell tower, which dates to about 1461. It's about 177 feet tall (!), and in some places, the walls are 10 feet thick.
The reconstructed rose window, destroyed in 1936 and rebuilt to its original design.
After that, we grabbed a taxi to the airport with just about the friendliest driver ever, and flew back to a very cold Zürich. (We'd been laughing with Dave about the overnight fall-to-winter phenomenon in Barcelona--apparently, that's just what it does there--and returned to the same exact thing here. Ugh.) Well, it was just barely a return, in my case: I told Mike I was staying, and to send my things and my cats, if he didn't want to stay as well. (I don't think he loved Barcelona it as much as I did, but then, that would probably be impossible.) There was just something very powerful in the pride, culture, beauty, and traditions there, and it made me want to stay and be an independence fighter. And also to eat some tasty, tasty seafood and tapas, and to drink all the sangria, and to live in a modernized apartment in an ancient building in El Born, and to spend my days studying and documenting the infinite Modernismo details of the city, and to listen to street flamenco at every possible opportunity....and I could go on, and on, and on. Like I said, if I wander off someday, you'll know where to find me. (Sigh.)
Next up (yes, there's still more!): Tony Bennett may have left his heart in San Francisco, but I spent my birthday in Transylvania.
*After a little digging, I've discovered that they keep 13 geese in the courtyard at all times, one for each year in the life of Saint Eulalia--the cathedral's namesake, of course--a girl who was (according to tradition) martyred for her faith by the Romans in the 4th century. Now I feel a little bad for mocking the cloister geese, although it's not going to prevent me from using the phrase "cloister geese." (Obvs.)
**Not that we did, but apparently, at Requesens, you can join a "Medieval party in the palace," which sounds suspiciously something from Medieval Times...except that it's in an actual medieval building and includes a tour led by an actual historian. So there's that. ("There were no utensils in medieval times, but there was Pepsi?")
***Well, I did down one of Mike Tyson's energy drinks, tastefully named "Black Energy." I don't know exactly what flavor I was supposed to expect there, but it tasted EXACTLY LIKE RED BULL. Why is that the only flavor that energy drink producers can seem to come up with?? YUCK. Just yuck. (Ok, I partake of the energy drinks from time to time, WHAT. Don't judge. It's mainly to ward off migraines when I haven't slept much, ok? Plus, it's been proven time and again that caffeine makes me a nicer person.)
****In case you're interested, or even if you're not...Pakta and Nino Viejo are in the same neighborhood with three other Adria ventures, in what Albert Adria describes as a "culinary amusement park." Um, BEST IDEA EVER. I would like to ride all of the rides, please, and sign me up for the yearly pass, the email list for discounts and special days, and any sort of frequent-visitor card. I'LL BE BACK.
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