In Search of Christopher Columbus: Barcelona, Part 3

And now, the thrilling conclusion of my four days in Barcelona...

Henceforth, the Saturday I was in BCN shall now be known as Wild Goose Chase Day as I spent the entire morning playing the most vicious game of “he said, she said” with cell phone carriers and train station employees.  For being an international city, everyone that you need to speak to about something important (like, changing train tickets and adding money to your pay-as-you-go phone) doesn’t speak English.  

But when you’re talking to anyone on the street or in a shop, and you ask them a question in Spanish, nothing says your handle on the language is not improving when they answer you in English.  In Barcelona, signs are written in at least three languages (Castellano (the official language of Spain), Catalan (a regional dialect of the Eastern coast of Spain), and English) and most people speak at least some English (except for EVERYONE I talked to on Wild Goose Chase Day).  Walking around, you hear many different languages spoken (mostly by the tourists of course, of which there are many).  Another great thing about the international nature of Barcelona, aside from meeting people from all corners of the globe, was that I didn’t feel quite so much like an Amazonian woman as I usually do in Alicante.  I got lots of comments from blog readers about the ‘average inches taller than most Spanish men I am’ statistic in Meet Me Halfway, but it’s true.  Being a beautiful, beachy city, Alicante has it’s fair share of tourists, but on the street, you encounter mostly Spanish people, and in general, they’re short.  This was not the case in the areas of BCN that I visited.  It felt more normal to have men taller than me, rather than face to face with my chin.  But alas, I only have 27 more days of feeling freakishly tall before I’m back in the States, surrounded by fellow tall people once more.  

With tickets changed and the hostel booked for another night, I ventured out with Anna and Ben to do a little sightseeing.  We headed back toward Las Ramblas and ended up walking through the Gothic quarter of the city, Barrí Gotic.  Just gorgeous.  

After more shopping (I just can’t stop) and tapas, we headed back to our respective hostels for quick siestas to prepare for the night ahead.  

The Nike store preparing for the game.

Geneseo Pride

That night, FCBarcelona played Manchester United in the Champions League Final, which is the final game of a tournament that includes soccer teams from all of Europe.  With the help of my Spanish family, I’ve been becoming a Barça fan since my arrival in Spain and to be in the city during the game was amazing.  Upon recommendations from friends who’ve traveled to Barcelona before, we ended up at a bar called L’Ovella Negra (The Black Sheep).  By the time the game started, the place was packed with men and women wearing FCBarcelona flags as capes, chanting, and drinking.  Barcelona scored first, followed by a goal from Man U, with Barça putting two more away by the end of the game.  

Inside L'Ovella Negra

After one of the three goals

It was absolutely insane.  Ben and Anna and I kept turning to each other and just reveling in how cool this was.  The energy in the room was palpable, but it was nothing compared with the streets outside. 

Here’s a video of people on Las Ramblas celebrating the win, and another one of the traffic on the Passeig de Gracía after the game.  

Aside from the amazing walk through the Barri Gotic, hanging out with my Geneseo buddies, and truly having a once in a lifetime experience watching the Barça game in Barcelona, Saturday was made complete when I found Christopher Columbus.

No, really.  I’d been looking for him since Thursday.

Confused?

Aside from the thievery, shopping, and long-distance walking that Las Ramblas is known for, it’s also famous for it’s living statues.  While walking down the long street, every five minutes you encounter a living statue who will take some pictures with you if you drop a couple coins in their buckets.  On Thursday, I got a couple pictures with this lady:

And I also saw Christopher Columbus, but didn’t stop to take pics.  After I thought about it for a while, I decided that I should really get a couple good exploratory photos with him, but when I turned back, he was nowhere to be found.  I also looked for him Friday and Saturday morning, and finally stumbled upon him before heading to The Black Sheep for the game Saturday night.  Here are the results:

Just can’t help myself sometimes. 

Alright, kiddos, Barcelona has been officially blogged!  Hope you've enjoyed this little series of posts as much as I enjoyed my trip!  We are now officially in June, the month in which I return back to the States and am reunited with all of you from back home who've been following along on this journey!  As always, thanks for the continued support!  Christopher Columbus and I appreciate it more than you know!

And as always, thanks for reading,

Alicia

Baby Chicks, 3 Euros to a Good Home: Barcelona, Part 2

I began Friday with one mission: La Sagrada Familia.

Quick history lesson.

Antoni Gaudí is one of the world’s most famous and most respected architects.  He was born in 1852 and died in 1926 in Barcelona.  His modernisme style combined his passions for architecture, nature, religion, and Catalunya, the province of Spain of which Barcelona is the provincial capital.  His style is truly unique and can be found all over Barcelona.  Since I don’t want to bore you with too many art history stats, you can read more info about Antoni Gaudí here if you’re so inclined.  The main thing you need to know is that I was so drawn to Barcelona because it is a cultural center covered in art that is both extremely unique and extremely beautiful.  Above all of the other Gaudí architecture in Barcelona, though, I went there for his masterpiece, La Sagrada Familia.  

Since the beginning of it’s construction in 1883, La Sagrada Familia has become a UNESCO World Heritage Site, a consecrated basilica by Pope Benedict XVI, and the most visited monument in Spain.  It is currently still under construction and is due to be completed in 2026.  Really, it’s amazing and I’ve been waiting years to go there.

So after a short subway ride, I hopped in the already 30 minute line to enter the gates and gain access to the inside of La Sagrada Familia.  Now, I was a tad bit short on cash as I had just bought a two-day subway pass, and was hoping that Spain’s most visited attraction would accept credit cards.  I mean, that’s logical, right?  Halfway through the line, I encountered this very nice looking lady, accepting donations for a ministry program.  She seemed pretty legitimate, and seeing as I was heading into this massive church, I thought that a 50 cent charitable donation was an appropriate way to start the day.

Ministry Person

Do you see where this is going yet?

Turns out, no, La Sagrada Familia does not accept credit cards and I was short exactly...you guessed it...50 cents.  Though I contemplated going back and demanding she fork over my donation, I decided it would be in bad taste and, luckily for me, the nice man in line behind me was feeling charitable that day too.  

In my “teaser” post on Friday, I wrote that I would tell you why I cried in a church that day.  Here’s why:

Statue representing the kiss of Judas and the cryptogram can be broken into over 300 ways to make the number 33, the age of Jesus at his death.

Inside the workshop of the Sagrada Familia

On top of La Sagrada Familia being absolutely one of the most beautiful places I have ever been, I had one of those moments when you realize that what you really wanted is actually happening.  I was in the place that I’d read countless websites and articles about for YEARS, but never had the means to get there.  And combined with this ever-present feeling that sort of catches me off guard sometimes of “I-can’t-believe-how-happy-I-am,” I got a little teary eyed.  I would liken it to the viral video on YouTube of a man crying hysterically over the beauty of a double rainbow, but minus the rainbows, the hysterical crying, the obvious drug use, and the ridiculous sentiments he expresses.  So, it wasn’t really like that at all.  Bottom line: It was beautiful and I’m happy.

When I returned to my hostel after getting lost leaving La Sagrada Familia (streets all look alike and the road-nameless map doesn’t help), I found the place abuzz with talks of a riot in the Plaça de Catalunya.  The short background story is that hundreds of people have been “peacefully” protesting the low pay for many workers and high unemployment rates in Spain for the last two weeks.  As the Spanish elections were last week, the Barcelona city government left them alone in their tent city situated in the Plaça de Catalunya, not wanting to stir up trouble.  But, as a tradition in Barcelona, when there is a big FCBarcelona (Futbol Club de Barcelona) match, like the European finals Saturday night, thousands of people gather in the Plaça de Catalunya to watch the game on big screens.  So after multiple warnings to pack up and head home by the Barcelona city government, with “peaceful” protesting still occurring, the police were ordered to clear out the “tent city” so that cleaning crews could restore it to it’s usually beautiful self.  Riots ensued and over 100 people were injured.  I wasn’t near the Plaça at the time, but when I headed in that direction later in the afternoon to visit Las Ramblas, hundreds of people had gathered and were parading through the streets carrying signs and chanting.  After snapping a couple photos, I made a bee-line in the opposite direction, not wanting to get involved in the trouble.  If you’re so inclined, you can read more about the riot here.

People gathered in the Placa de Catalunya

As beautiful and amazing as Barcelona is, it’s known throughout Europe as a city of thieves.  I spent four days clutching my purse to my chest, which was effective as I still have all of my belongings (as far as I know).  The highest concentration of pick pocketers is at Las Ramblas, a 1.2 km busy stretch of shops, markets, hotels, and other cultural places.  I was at Las Ramblas at some point every day, and was stunned by all the different things people were selling; seeds, flowers, souvenirs, ice cream, candles, jewelry, chickens...wait, what?!

Yeah, little baby chicks.  And baby ducks, and baby turtles, and baby bunnies.  And I felt so sad for them all cramped in these little cages on one of the busiest streets in Spain, surrounded by fake statues (I’ll get to that later), pick pocketers, and tourists (blach!).  And I wanted so badly to just take one of the little baby chicks home and love it and squeeze it, and teach it to sit on my shoulder like a parrot and do stuff for me.  In the midst of my daydreams of having a multipurpose chicken parrot, however, I thought about how Amparo would kill me, Zipi would eat it for breakfast, and even if we both survived THAT mom and THAT cat, we would not live through the American mom and cat waiting for us at home.  So I left the chicks on Las Ramblas, in the hopes that someone in a better-suited-for-chickens situation comes along and starts daydreaming about the perks of having retrieval poultry, or guard hens, or their own start-to-finish omelette maker (lays the eggs AND cooks them).

Got you thinking about it now too, didn’t I?

Attached to Las Ramblas is the Mercat de Boqueria, an open air market that sells everything from tropical fruit to pig brains to emu eggs to red hot chili peppers.  Also, delicious fruit smoothies for 1€.  This was pretty much my photography dream under one roof.

Friday night, I met up with Ben and Anna at a little cafe near the Barceloneta beach.  Afterwards, we ventured out for a few drinks and called it an early night.  As Friday was supposed to be my last night in Barcelona as I had originally planned, I wanted to get up early to try and change around reservations so I could stay in the city for the big fútbol match Saturday night.

Anna, Ben, and I

That's all for today, folks, but stay tuned for tomorrow's thrilling conclusion to the Barcelona adventures!  And as always,

Thanks for reading,

Alicia

Linen Shenanigans: Barcelona, Part 1

After writing the full version of all the collected stories from my four days in Barcelona, I quickly realized that it was just too darn long.  So as a result, I’ve broken it up into three parts.  I’ll post Part 2 tomorrow and Part 3 on Wednesday.  I know you guys appreciate the posts and everything, but I figured a little over 3,200 words (yeah, not kidding) was just wayyyy too much for one day.  Enjoy :)

Several months ago at a Geneseo Family gathering, I was doing some catching up with my good friend Ben and we quickly realized we would both be in Spain at the same time.  We talked about how awesome it would be to meet up somewhere in España, had a great night out in Rochester with our closest friends from across the state, and promptly forgot about any tentative planning for a few months.  It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago that Ben told me where and when he’d be in Spain and I was disappointed to discover that I’d already planned a trip to Granada with the university for that weekend.  Well, due to a lack of travelers, the trip was cancelled on Tuesday and Ben was already on his way to meet his sister, Anna, in Madrid.  They were planning to fly to Barcelona on Friday for a couple of days before hopping the sea to meet even more family in Rome.  So, determined to make this last month in Spain (only 28 days left here, folks!) as action-packed as possible, I threw together some plans and by Thursday, was on a train to BCN.  

Getting to Barcelona has been one of my main travel goals throughout this entire trip.  It all started many years ago when I first laid eyes on one of Antoni Gaudí’s amazing works, the Casa Batlló, on a Samantha Brown Travel Channel episode.  So unusual, especially given that it had been built at the end of the 19th century. 

After arriving by train, I took the subway to Passeig de Gracía, the street on which my hostel was situated.  Now remember, there was zero pre-planning involved for this trip and I had absolutely no idea where the Passeig de Gracía was, or if it would be at all interesting.  So when I emerged from the subway to see this, you might be able to imagine how extremely happy I was:

Gaudi's Casa Batllo

Again at nighttime.

My hostel was less than a block away from the Casa Batlló, the building that got me hooked on Barcelona in the first place.  As it turns out, there isn’t really a better street in the city to stay on than the Passeig de Gracía.  My hostel was in walking distance of some of the best cultural spots around, including Las Ramblas, Mercat de la Boqueria, the Barrí Gotic, and the Plaça de Catalunya.  I know that sounds like a lot of mumbo-jumbo now, but I’ll provide some info about each of these places throughout the posts (get pumped!).

The three nights spent in my hostel were all enlightening and interesting at the same time.  All around, it was pretty cheap (only about 20€ a night), but there were some unusual charges here and there.  For example, they provided lockers in the rooms but no locks.  Of course, you could get them at the front desk...for a fee (3€).  Also, you got your bottom sheet and pillowcase for free (what a deal!), but the top sheet would cost you another 2€.  The towels, however, were the biggest moneymaker.  At 4€ (and these weren’t to keep, mind you), you could enjoy the comfort of a rinky dink towel.  So, being the dirt poor, currently non-working, would rather spend her money on shoes than silly amenities person that I am, I sprung for the lock only, given that I had brought along my computer and other gadgetry.  So topsheet-less and towel-less, as well as experiencing the lack of other “luxuries” normally provided at hotels (drawers and closets for clothes, cleaning service, your own bathroom, baby shampoos, etc.), staying at a hostel is a lot like camping, just without the pine needles.  And thanks to my best friend, Katie, I know how to wrap my wet hair up in a t-shirt.  This knowledge proved handy on this trip.

My hostel.

Despite the linen shenanigans, it was a pretty great place to stay.  Everyone was so friendly and the staff always remembered my name.  The free breakfast was basic (cereal, milk, juice, tea, coffee, toast), but clean, plentiful, and well-organized.  And the atmosphere was great, making it easy to make friends with fellow travelers.

After getting situated at the hostel, I spent the rest of Thursday getting over my elation about being in Barcelona and dealing with the onset of overwhelmed-ness.  When one does not plan her trip in advance, and the only map she has does not have road names and she is too cheap to buy one with them; and when one is finally in the city that she has dreamed of visiting for years and there is just SO MUCH TO DO, panic ensues.  So,  with survival instincts heightened and claustrophobia from my to do list getting the better of me, I defaulted into what I know best: shopping.  

Side note: Mom and Dad, expect to start receiving boxes of stuff.  There’s no way my suitcases will be able to handle my “souvenirs” from Spain.  And by “souvenirs,” I mean clothes and shoes.

After finally getting my bearings and ahold of myself, I explored the city a little bit and snapped a few photos (of course).  

The Passeig de Gracia from atop my hostel.

Another Gaudi building, the Casa Mila.

Can you find me in this picture? 

 I finished up Thursday night out for drinks and tapas with some nice guys from Minnesota who I met at the hostel.  As much as I love Spain and all of the Spanish and international friends I’ve made here, it was very nice to meet and crack jokes with a bunch of Americans.  

The boys from Minnesota and I in our hostel common room.

All in all, Thursday was a great start to an amazing trip.  Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post about Friday’s adventures in Barcelona, including the answer to the great chicken mystery.

Thanks for reading,

Alicia

It recently came to my attention that there have been many people who’d like to post comments to the blog (and believe me, I’d LOVE to hear them!) but aren’t sure how to go about doing so.  So, here are some step by step instructions because, in all seriousness, I enjoy writing this blog, but it wouldn’t mean anything if I wasn’t hearing back from people in return!

1. At the bottom of the post, click on the word “comments.”  It may say “0 comments,” or any other number, depending on if anyone has said anything yet.
2. Click ‘Select Profile.’
3. If you have a Google account (like gmail), you can sign in using that, but in truth, the easiest thing to do is just select “Name/URL”
4. Type in your name (don’t worry about the URL, that’s only there if you’re representing your own website and want to publicize it).  Make sure you at least include your name and the first initial of your last name, or even a nickname I’d know.  I love finding out who’s reading the blog!
5. Click ‘Post Comment’
6. Type in the scrambley letters you see on the screen (this is to make sure people can’t program advertisements to automatically post them to my blog...pesky computers).
7. Click ‘Post Comment’ again, and you’re in business!

Can’t wait to hear from YOU soon!  And you, and you, and you, and you, and...well, you get it.