It was 20 degrees Farenheit and snowing in Budapest, getting dark around 4:oo pm, and just really, really cold as we boarded the plane to Barcelona. Two hours later, it's now 5:30 and I look down to see palm trees swaying in the mild breeze of the Barcelona sunset; it's in the low 50's, and very, very cold by Catalan standards. Quite frankly, I don't know what is wrong with those folks. I couldn't believe it was December and all I needed was a light coat to keep warm! It's just lovely, and we've still got further South to go; who knows, maybe I'll even come home with a sun-kissed glow.
I really don't know how we would have managed to do all that we've done in the past few days without my friend Matt, who's been our tourguide for the weekend. He's also from McDaniel College, but came to study in Spain because he's a Spanish major. Not only did he get us from the airport to our hostal, but he then took us out that evening to see the very beautiful, and very unfinished Sagrada Familia. It is an incredible spectacle to behold. Some joke that with the Spanish work ethic, it'll be another 200 years before it's actually finished, but even now it's so wild and imaginitive and big, you think to yourself - how in the world did he come up with this stuff? 
Then you see a few of his other buildings in the city, as we did, and you think to yourself -- was he on drugs? Who knows for sure, but his architecture is just wild. For dinner we stopped in a hole-in-the-wall bar and shared a variety of Tapas and Sangria, and then continued on through the electric buzz of Barcelona on a Friday night.Saturday was another gorgeous day, but from the sounds of it, bad weather is a rarity in Barcelona. Clear blue sky, warm sun. I could have been walking around with pneumonia and I would still have been happy because it was so gosh darn nice out. Our walk began in the Gothic Quarter, which is full of narrow winding streets and charming old apartment buildings. We browsed through one of the many Christmas markets, and also took a few minutes to enjoy the Cathedral. 
As we were wandering from one vendor to the next, I noticed that many had this smiling creature that looked as if someone had put Rudolph's nose and two eyes on a piece of firewood and threw a blanket over it. Turns out "Caga Tio" is the Catalan Christmas tradition; his name translates roughly to "easing of the bowels" and on Christmas Eve he is set upon a mound of presents, which are then covered with a blanket. In the morning, little Catalan children come down and beat this smiling piece of firewood with a stick while singing a song that goes something like "Empty your bowels and poop out our gifts." Charming, really.
As we were wandering from one vendor to the next, I noticed that many had this smiling creature that looked as if someone had put Rudolph's nose and two eyes on a piece of firewood and threw a blanket over it. Turns out "Caga Tio" is the Catalan Christmas tradition; his name translates roughly to "easing of the bowels" and on Christmas Eve he is set upon a mound of presents, which are then covered with a blanket. In the morning, little Catalan children come down and beat this smiling piece of firewood with a stick while singing a song that goes something like "Empty your bowels and poop out our gifts." Charming, really.
After that, we took a quick detour through one of the many Barrio Markets where one can find almost anything under the sun, and then some. I swear to goodness the meats and poultry looked like they'd been killed that morning. The fish looked like they might twitch at any moment, and by the end I felt like even my own tolerance for the "fresh factor" was wearing thin.
From the market, we took the metro out to Park Guell, home of some of Gaudi’s most famous architecture. I’ve never before taken an escalator up a hillside that looked like it’d just been shipped in from San Francisco, but such was the case in ascending to the entrance of the park. Matt took us to the highest point, from which one can see all of Barcelona scattered about below. We then worked our way down and instantly fell in love with the mosaic tile work of Gaudi’s creation: whimsical, colorful, and nothing like what I had ever seen before. We spent a good deal of time wan
dering about and admiring everything, and also stopped in to see the Gaudi Casa Museum. I loved the jewelry and artwork that was for sale around the area as most of it was inspired by Gaudi motifs. It was hard to leave, but hunger won us all over eventually. After a very filling “Menu del Dia” we went underground again and came up to see Barcelona’s Arc de Triomf. Quite ironic though as there is no triumph associated with it whatsoever- it was built for the World’s Fair. We walked down one of the grand boulevards, lined with palm trees, and stopped to admire the building of the Catalonya Parliament. 
The independence situation is very similar to Quebec, and it’s only been in the last thirty years or so that the Catalonian culture has resurfaced from its oppression.
You’re probably just as tired from reading all this as I was from actually doing it! We were all in need of a Siesta, so it was agreed that after a rest we should meet up again around 9:30 or so. I felt like a million bucks after a short nap, and was quite pleased with myself that I got to sample some authentic Catalonian Cava (sparkling wine). It was very good, to say the least. The night was still young after wine and tapas, so we headed over to a cheerful looking Irish Pub. Of course I ordered a Guinness (I’ve been reformed!) and it was just a good time to be had all around.
Somewhere along the way yesterday, Shelley and I realized that we had both been toying with the idea of rearranging our travel plans a bit. There is so much to do in Barcelona that we eventually opted to stay for another day and cancel our one-night visit to Tortosa. That way we would be able to go out and see the Salvador Dali Theatre Museum in Figueres. It’s about an hour and a half train ride to get there, but the museum was well worth it. The entire exhibit was designed by Dali himself, and so creates a unique experience of looking at art while also walking around in it. 
For the most part, one couldn’t even begin to explain the logic of the art. It just was what it was. That’s the beauty of it though; Dali didn’t color inside the lines. He took the lines, melted them, twisted them inside out, and then called them art.
Aside from the museu, there wasn’t a whole lot going on in the city. We were both on the fence about stopping in Girona on the way back for an hour or so, but in the end opted to stay on the train and simply return to Barcelona. The way I see it, it’s just another reason to come back again sometime. This evening we took a paseo (stroll) along Las Ramblas, and were literally in awe at the sheer number of people that were out and about on a Sunday night. People hustling and bustling; most of the stores were still open too. Holiday shopping, perhaps?
The most shocking phenomenon for me is listening to a foreign language and actually understanding it. After four months in Hungary, knowing enough to get by but not enough to get the gist of a conversation, and then traveling in French and German-speaking countries, this whole Spanish thing is just dandy. The Castillian lisp makes my heart chuckle whenever I hear it (I think it sounds silly) but it doesn’t really make the Spanish any harder to understand. It’s just when they try to speak English that I’m thinking “What the hell are they saying??” Now that’s what I call irony!
From the market, we took the metro out to Park Guell, home of some of Gaudi’s most famous architecture. I’ve never before taken an escalator up a hillside that looked like it’d just been shipped in from San Francisco, but such was the case in ascending to the entrance of the park. Matt took us to the highest point, from which one can see all of Barcelona scattered about below. We then worked our way down and instantly fell in love with the mosaic tile work of Gaudi’s creation: whimsical, colorful, and nothing like what I had ever seen before. We spent a good deal of time wan
dering about and admiring everything, and also stopped in to see the Gaudi Casa Museum. I loved the jewelry and artwork that was for sale around the area as most of it was inspired by Gaudi motifs. It was hard to leave, but hunger won us all over eventually. After a very filling “Menu del Dia” we went underground again and came up to see Barcelona’s Arc de Triomf. Quite ironic though as there is no triumph associated with it whatsoever- it was built for the World’s Fair. We walked down one of the grand boulevards, lined with palm trees, and stopped to admire the building of the Catalonya Parliament. 
The independence situation is very similar to Quebec, and it’s only been in the last thirty years or so that the Catalonian culture has resurfaced from its oppression.You’re probably just as tired from reading all this as I was from actually doing it! We were all in need of a Siesta, so it was agreed that after a rest we should meet up again around 9:30 or so. I felt like a million bucks after a short nap, and was quite pleased with myself that I got to sample some authentic Catalonian Cava (sparkling wine). It was very good, to say the least. The night was still young after wine and tapas, so we headed over to a cheerful looking Irish Pub. Of course I ordered a Guinness (I’ve been reformed!) and it was just a good time to be had all around.
Somewhere along the way yesterday, Shelley and I realized that we had both been toying with the idea of rearranging our travel plans a bit. There is so much to do in Barcelona that we eventually opted to stay for another day and cancel our one-night visit to Tortosa. That way we would be able to go out and see the Salvador Dali Theatre Museum in Figueres. It’s about an hour and a half train ride to get there, but the museum was well worth it. The entire exhibit was designed by Dali himself, and so creates a unique experience of looking at art while also walking around in it. 
For the most part, one couldn’t even begin to explain the logic of the art. It just was what it was. That’s the beauty of it though; Dali didn’t color inside the lines. He took the lines, melted them, twisted them inside out, and then called them art.Aside from the museu, there wasn’t a whole lot going on in the city. We were both on the fence about stopping in Girona on the way back for an hour or so, but in the end opted to stay on the train and simply return to Barcelona. The way I see it, it’s just another reason to come back again sometime. This evening we took a paseo (stroll) along Las Ramblas, and were literally in awe at the sheer number of people that were out and about on a Sunday night. People hustling and bustling; most of the stores were still open too. Holiday shopping, perhaps?
The most shocking phenomenon for me is listening to a foreign language and actually understanding it. After four months in Hungary, knowing enough to get by but not enough to get the gist of a conversation, and then traveling in French and German-speaking countries, this whole Spanish thing is just dandy. The Castillian lisp makes my heart chuckle whenever I hear it (I think it sounds silly) but it doesn’t really make the Spanish any harder to understand. It’s just when they try to speak English that I’m thinking “What the hell are they saying??” Now that’s what I call irony!
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