Barça

Barcelona was crazy. We spent last weekend there, soaking up the Gaudí and puzzling through how you speak Catalan, oh yeah, and celebrating Halloween. We didn't go out Sunday night because we had an early train Monday, but on our way to the station we did see the remnants of the night before going home to their beds, costumes and all.

We started our trip out right by choosing to go on a walking tour first thing (well, after we took a little siesta in our hostel, since our train left Madrid at 7am). In Europe, they have free walking tours given by people who live in the city and do their own research, and then at the end you tip them whatever you want and that is what they earn. So, to quote Paola's paper on the hospitality industry, the "economics of service" are at work (unlike in the rest of Spain, where no tipping = shitty service). Our guide was Australian, and we knew that it was going to be a good trip when he took a shot and drank a pint before we left, and then started taking swigs of brandy from a friend halfway through the tour. He took us all through the Barri Gotic (Gothic Quarter), and we saw churches, the old synagogue, plazas, and where Picasso lost his virginity (more or less). It was highly entertaining, filled with snide comments about the Catalans (who want desperately not to be associated with the rest of Spain) and silly Barcelona laws, like how its legal to have up to 2 grams of almost any drug on your person as long as you are going home, and its legal to be naked in Barcelona as long as you are wearing shoes. This last law our guide demonstrated by dropping his pants at the end of the tour. Like I said, good way to start the day.

You, sir, are a weird gentleman/tour guide.

We also saw the giant Colom/Colon/Columbus statue near the port and hung around near the sea for a bit on Friday night, but we were so pooped we all ended up in bed by 11. Saturday was the day of Gaudí (after stopping by the beach). We went to Parc Guell, which he designed, toured la Sagrada Familia (which is so amazing and everyone should go), went into La Pedrera, one of the houses he designed, and saw the Casa Batlló. Friday night we went to a restaurant/tapas place that a friend of Anne's mom suggested, which was so classy and delicious, then we made our way to Chupitas (literally, shots) on the Carrer Aribau, which is just down the street from where the main character of one of the books we read for our lit class lived. 2 € shots with names like the Monica Lewinsky and the Harry Potter was well worth it. We did the Boy Scout, in which the bartender lights alcohol on fire on the bar and you roast a marshmallow. Chupitas was pretty crowded so we made our way (in the rain, no less) to a club that we picked up coupons for at the hostel (regular cover - 15 €. Ouch). We hung out there for a bit, dancing and whatnot, and left kind of early once again because we were pooped from being tourists.

Colom/Colon - Catalan has to be different

View from Parc Guell

Sagrada Familia is overwhelming

And the inside is beautiful

La Pedrera

Casa Batlló

Sunday, we tried to fit in all that was left. We went to the cathedral to watch the Sardanna, which is a Catalan folk dance that they perform every weekend. We went inside the cathedral, too, and on a tour of the Palau de la Música Catalana (Palace of Catalan Music), which was not designed by Gaudí but very impressive nonetheless. We got some crepes to go and ended up waiting in a very long line to get into the Picasso Museum, because entrance was free. The Picasso museum was interesting because it had lots of his early works, and you could see how influenced he was by impressionism and the old masters and Toulouse-Latrec at various stages in his life. Finally, we made it back to the hostel for dinner and another early bedtime. I slept the entire ride back to Madrid, and then took a siesta that day, too. Being a tourist is exhausting.

Palau de la Música Catalana

All other photos are on Facebook!

Up next for me: Normandy! I am so excited to completely geek out and do all sorts of WWII stuff in France, even though I am not looking forward to going through Paris. I can't speak a word of French and have no idea how I'm going to buy regional train tickets, but I'm sure I'll manage. The French can't be all that bad, can they?