Jun 3rd, 2010
Viva la Barcelona
The thing about having crap accomodations is that, instead of returning to the hotel room to relax, you make more stops for beer. That is, if you’re us. What happened—you may ask—to all that red, red rioja you were intending to consume on your Spanish vacation, Irene? It’s not served cold. Beer is served cold. Sangria is served cold (and with ice!) Wine is served as it should be: at room temp. The temp for us visiting Seattleites is Hot. Actually, Bacelona is refreshingly cooler than the south of Spain proved to be. Still we are seeking the shade and religiously applying our sunsceen daily. But cold beer helps, too.
We have an Art Pass. Like gluttons at an all-you-can-eat buffet, we are out to get our money’s worth. This afternoon’s cerveca was tapped at the Joan Miró museum, at which (even before the beer) I gained a modicum of respect for him and his work.
Yesterday was spent in the company of Gaudi (Sagrada Familia and the Park Güell) and Picasso (Picasso Museum). I’d like to think everyone appreciates the work of these artists. Visiting Barcelona feels a little like a pilgrimage, for Gaudi’s sake! But visiting these places reminded me how true artistry can come off as obvious and easy-looking while it is based on a profound mastery of one’s craft. Miró, it seemed, never excelled at representational art before turning his visual language into play. I don’t know if this has anything to do with how I’m just not into him. But this is what I think—of those who respond to practical questions about their work, their health, their relationships, “…you just don’t understand! I’m an ARTIST!”—they’re full of shite. You got to know your craft. Artists are craftsmen. And craft means discipline. That said…It’s their whimsey that moves. And, after our lineup with the Art Pass, I’m inspired to play.
But right now, I’m inspired to sit. Still composing this little ditty of a blog entry, I’m sitting with Ken now in the evening waiting for the Font Màgica to do its Thing. We walked (till our legs nearly mutinied) to land at the only indoor eatery within blocks and blocks and blocks to offer a bright and inviting, nonsmoking space in which the waitstaff looks at us funny when we even attempt Spanish. In the cool of the evening in this air condiditioned place, we order Rioja, and it comes ice cold. After the show at the Magic Fountain, we’ll take the metro back to our hyper cool neighborhood (The Born) to our hovel of a hostel, check in with the world via wifi, and pass out in our unairconditioned room while the locals start their evening meals. Viva la Barcelona! We love you. Sincerely, me.
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Jun 2nd, 2010
Jun 1st, 2010
May 31st, 2010
“You’d remember drinking horchata…”
I’ve had that Vampire Weekend song going through my head ever since we got our first glass of horchata in Sevilla. In Mexico horchata is made with rice, here it’s made with something called a chuffanut. No, I don’t know what that is either. It’s quite tasty though. Especially with fartons, a speciality in Valencia.
What is a farton you ask? I would describe it as a cross between a croissant and a brioches but long like a breadstick. Very tasty.
Our second day in Valencia started at the Mercado Central, which, it says in the book, is the largest in Europe. I don’t know, the one in Budapest seemed comprable in size plus had three levels. It was fun to browse around though and we did procure breakfast.
Thus fortified we next tackled the cathedral and it’s bell tower. It was our first major climb of the trip (one is required to climb at least one tower on any trip to Europe). As always, the view from the top made it worthwhile.
I thought it would be hard to abide by Spain’s meal schedule, but really we’ve managed to slip into it without too much trouble. When it’s just starting to get dark at 10pm that starts to seem like an appropriate time to eat. And if you are keeping busy during the day (which we most assuredly are), then it’s easy to go until 2pm before having lunch.
And if not, you can always so what we did last night and belly up to the bar for tapas. We went to a place called Sagardi, a place we passed on the street between our hotel and the center of town. It was always hoping when we walked by so we were eager to check it out. It’s the kind of place that, unfortunately, if it were in the US would be shut down by the health department in a heartbeat. All the tapas are lined up on the bar. They give you a plate and you just grab whatever looks good. This can be difficult as theplace is very busy and people are sitting at the bar and you have to reach around them. Fortunately the servers will also bring plates around of whatever just came out of the kitchen. My favorite was the chorizo on bread, and the tortilla on bread, and the goat cheese on bread…
When you are done gorging yourself on tapas, you hand your plate to the person behind the bar and they count the toothpicks on your plate to charge you.
There is a big cider keg in the wall and when you order a cider they open up the tap and hold the glass about three feet away and the cider streams across the bar. We tried to get video of it but something went awry. There are Sagradis in Barcelona as well so maybe we will try again.
The one downside of this place is that it’s very expensive when all is said and done. I would recommend going there for a quick tapas or two, but don’t make a meal out of it or you might suffer from sticker shock.
It was particularly galling because earlier we’d had a very fine lunch for a fraction of the price.
In the afternoon we took the metro out to the beach and walked the boardwalk. It was something like 90 degrees out and people were out in force sunning themselves.
Now we are on the train to Barcelona. We have three full days there and two haf days. Then we fly to Bilbao.
Posted in Journal Entry, Spain | No Comments
May 30th, 2010
V is for Valencia!
Today was our first full day in Valencia. Love this place. The streets of the central historic district are paved in shiny marble, which feels so decadent! We’ve encountered fewer tourists here, so the place feels more authentic.
We spent the day at the modern Arts and Sciences complex. It’s huge. Beatiful too. We discovered while there that the traditional thing to have with authentic Valencian horchata is a brioche-like pastry called fartons, which we ordered twice at the complex (and both times we were told they had sold out).
Valencia being the place of origin for paella, we have a couple of foods to try during our final day here (which will be tomorrow). There should be no trouble finding fartons to go with our horchata tomorrow since cart vendors sell the stuff on every other corner of the city near our hotel.
I will say too that we got lucky with this hotel. A steal at 60€ per night, we double-checked our information when we read the sign posted out front that it is a 4-star. I don’t want to sully our reputations by admitting this, but Ken and I don’t typically stay in 4-star accomodations. If we can squeeze in one star, we get to feeling pretty luxurious.
Ken is sacked out as I write this. Of course I’m not bothering him as I am in my separate bed in our double room. I suspect there is some European code that looks unfavorably on matrimonial double beds. We can’t so much figure it out. Only one bed have we shared on this trip so far, and that was the first. After I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping apart, it will be time to get used to sharing the covers again. O the hazards of vacationing in Spain!
Posted in Spain, Travel | 2 Comments
