Monday
We can’t say we weren’t warned: Barcelona
in August is like sticking your head in the oven and finding you can’t escape
when you’re cooked! The temperature didn’t drop below 30 degrees all week, even
in the wee hours. Thank God for our beautiful, air-conditioned Caller Aribau
apartment.
Driving into Barcelona was slightly
complicated (none of the signage seemed to offer Centre Ville!) but there was
(paid) parking next door to our apartment and we gladly abandoned our little Polo
there for the rest of the week. A
washing machine and free Wi Fi completed our domestic bliss…
Lynne Cossar, Dave Burgess and their lovely
boys, Max and Darcy, are living a few blocks away in the Eixample district, so
we met up and sauntered out to the Bar El Velodromo, a stylish yet inexpensive
Art Deco café which apparently has been the scene of many a Catalan political
intrigue over the decades. Delicious cannelloni, vino and a great catch up on
what it’s like to live in Barcelona.
Tuesday
Andrew and I spent the day discovering the
old city with its narrow winding streets, old churches and elegant townhouses,
the latter tucked discreetly away behind courtyards. Prosperous Catalans don’t
like to flash their wealth about, especially in this economic environment, so
it’s hard to differentiate the affluent from the struggling merely by the
exterior of their apartment buildings.
The old city is great wandering territory
and easy to get cheerfully lost in. Andrew visited the city museum in search of
Roman ruins while I searched in vain for shopping. A lot of the little
boutiques were closed and boarded up but it was hard to tell if they were shut
for the August holidays or out of business. We also ventured down the famous
Las Ramblas boulevard, but it was a tourist-filled nightmare, so we retreated
into the nearby market for 1 euro cups of cold watermelon and some shade.
Dinner chez Burgess and Lynne managed a
touch of home with a tasty Bill Granger chicken curry. Max and Darcy have both
grown a couple of inches, are speaking Spanish like the natives and are playing
lots of football as talented young recruits for FC Barcelona. More on football
shortly…
The owners of their huge (150 sq m), rented
apartment have left all their belongings in situ so it’s like stepping into
someone else’s Barcelonan life. The Virgin Mary at the front door and the
formal reception salon are particularly nice touches. We were less enamoured of
their tiny lift, which got stuck with me, Andrew and Dave in it while Lynne
woke a neighbour for a key (at some time close to midnight) to get us out!
Wednesday
We had booked tickets online for the
extraordinary Gaudi La Sagrada Familia cathedral and felt very smug when we
jumped to the front of a 1-2 hour queue in the blistering midday heat. The
cathedral is a 100-year work in progress for which Gaudi left detailed designs
after his untimely death in the 1920s under a tram. Like it or love it, you
cannot help but feel awed by the amazing sculptures, stained glass windows and
modernist interpretation of a gothic cathedral.
We then had another welcome swim in the Med
though it would be fair to say that most of the city had the same idea and we
were packed in like sardines.The Barcelonetta waterfront area was
reclaimed, extended and redeveloped for the 1992 Olympic Games. Barcelona used
to face inwards (with a fortress mentality) and ugly railroads and factories
lined the seaside. Now there are beautiful beaches with real sand, palm trees
and a giant copper fish sculpture overlooking the water (more attractive than
it sounds…)
Later we went with Lynne and Dave for an
evening of enchanting architecture (Gaudi’s Batilo building), music (a soulful
girl on Spanish guitar), drinks (the usual), the sound of crashing glass (as
Andrew broke not one, but two, items during particularly quiet moments in the
performance) and barely suppressed laughter (see last item).
Thursday
Having taken fright at the 1-2 hour queues
for the Picasso Museum a couple of days before, we booked online and sauntered
straight in this morning. The museum is in a lovely old townhouse and mainly
features Picasso’s very early works including the “Science and Charity”
masterpiece for which he won a prize at the tender age of 15! The museum proved
beyond any doubt that he was a painter of massive talent , by any conventional
measure, before he struck out in his own style.
Robert Hughes declared the nearby Santa
Maria del Mare gothic cathedral the finest church of its type in Spain so we
popped in to find an organist practising and light pouring in through the
stained glass windows. They were offering tours of “the terraces” for a modest
5 euros and we joined a small group of Catalans (as the only English speakers)
for an amazing wander around the rooftops with spectacular Barcelona views in
every direction.
Lunch down at the Barcelonetta at Jai Ca –
another Lynne recommendation from the Movida foodies’ guide to Barca – which
looked like nothing much but was amazing food, friendly and pretty cheap. We
chose three simple seafood plates which came laden with fresh prawns, razor
clams and barbecued squid.
We had booked in the evening to go with the
Burgess clan to one of the great Spanish football matches of the year: local FC
Barcelona (Barca) vs arch rivals Real Madrid at the Camp Nou headquarters of
Barca on the north-west edge of the city. Picture 95,000 Carlton and
Collingwood supporters watching the AFL grand final and you can start to
imagine the scene. Throw in a sweltering night, some questionable personal
hygiene, zero crowd control and no metros after the match finished after
midnight and you’re getting closer. Oh and Messi (the Barca messiah) was
emblazoned on the Barca shirt of just about every supporter.
No goals were scored in the first half then
two in 30-second succession early in the 2nd half, one by either
team. This chain of events had two delirious Barca fans beside us going
absolutely bananas with lots of “puta” this and “puta” that aimed at Real Madrid and its hero Ronaldo.
(haven’t checked the precise meaning in the dictionary yet but it doesn’t leave
much to the imagination). We had a quiet giggle with a nice boy from the Gold
Coast who had bought a single ticket and found himself next to us. Luckily the night ended with a Barca victory
so the crowds making the 5 km walk back to town at 2am were cheerful.
Friday
A late start then Lynne and I spent the day
doing some serious bonding over coffee. Lunch was at the Four Cats, a French
style bistro that was frequented by Picasso and other painters of the Catalan
avant garde at the turn of the 19th century. When he couldn’t pay
for dinner Picasso used to draw the restauranteur a picture and many are still
hanging on the walls.
Needless, to say we also shopped. Lynne
knows lots of great little boutiques and I did succumb to a fabulous Desiguale
skirt and a beautiful beaded summer dress that has a distinctive Spanish look
(but was probably made in China!). It
was really special to share these past few days with her. The autoroute and a
5.30am start to drive back to France await in the morning.
