The rest of the BCN story.

                Barcelona is a very international city, and it seems to be catered specifically to tourists. Barcelona felt more American than anywhere else I’ve visited with as many Starbucks as you would see in Seattle and Subways, McDonald’s, and KFC’s dotted everywhere. I was startled to hear English speakers everywhere. To my surprise, I did not hear much Spanish. Mostly English and Catalan. None of us speak Spanish, and I expressed some concerns about this to one of my more linguistically inclined friends. He told me “I’m sure your Spanish will come back. It is similar to French after all.” Technically, I took Spanish for two years in high school. But my well-intentioned friend was wrong. I remembered nothing. The language barrier wasn’t too big a deal because we were centered on the tourist hot spots, but when showed itself, it loomed prominently and was unsurpassable. We felt like the worst American tourists ever, especially because we kept slipping into “merci” instead of “gracias.” We could barely order in restaurants and mostly resorted to pointing. I would have hated me too.

             Believe it or not, Barcelona really does have more than just Gaudi shrines! The other highlights we experienced are as follows:

There is a massive open air market that is just off the main stretch. It’s fantastic and has any food your heart could possibly desire. One of my friends accidentally spent 35 euros (that’s about $50) on dried fruit at a particularly enticing dried fruit stand. It was quite entertaining.

We also went into an ice bar. No, that was not a typo. You read correctly on both accounts. Yes, it was a room full of ice. And yes, I entered a bar. We went quite early before any of the crowds got there so it was more like an ice room with three other people shivering in a corner. We were given these stylish silver Michelin-man-style coats and gloves, and drank drinks (or juice in my case) out of cups made of ice. It was quite neat, and was a familiar taste of home. I had forgotten what it felt like to have your legs freeze through your jeans. Fortunately, I thawed out quite quickly by stepping outside into the warmer Spanish air.

A huge tourist hotspot is called Poble Sec, also referred to as the Spanish Village. It was built for the International Exhibition in 1929 and was fashioned after many rural Spanish villages. It is full of restaurants, artisan shops, and a couple art galleries, representing the different regions of Spain. The art gallery we entered was fantastic with works by Dali, Arman, and Jorge Castillo. Also, there was a real live cat. But I don’t think he was part of the exhibit.

A major highlight of the trip was the Picasso Museum. The exhibit was of course devoted completely to Picasso and his life and how his works progressed. The craziest part was to see these classical styled portraits and landscape paintings with delicate colors—know they were done by the bold cubist Picasso. I suppose I knew he was classically trained, but I never really thought about it much. Little Pablo had always possessed a natural talent for painting which his father encouraged a lot. The layout of the museum was a bit confusing and I think it may have been under construction, but it did show the transitions of Picasso’s life. I found his works from his Blue Period (1901-1903, a time when he painted with a predominantly blue palette) intriguing. How did he not get bored with it? Or really depressed? 

Left: Velasquez' original. Right: one of Picasso's versions

I think this is my favorite.

Although the museum no doubt fulfilled its purpose in awakening us to the brilliance of Pablo Picasso, it skipped about 30 years of his life. This happened to be the very crucial period that explained how he transitioned from his generally “normal” style into cubism. We concluded that aspect is probably a traveling exhibit being shown in another museum around the world. But to have no mention of it was a little disappointing. We walked from the Blue Period into Las Meninas, a cubist study of a work by Velasquez of the same name. 

And of course we got to see the ocean.

I agree.

                For those disinterested in museums and architecture, I will include a universal concern: the food. Perhaps the most important being paella. It’s a rice dish usually served with seafood and it is oh-so-delicious. We tried it at several places, some good, some “bad,” but even the bad paella was yummy. Also, Spain is known for its Tappas. These are appetizers generally served when you order drinks at a restaurant, however we were so fond of them, we sought out restaurants which specifically served tappas. They were small dishes of tasty wonder. Also, there is this bread traditionally served. It’s quite simple, but we were quite infatuated with it: just bread with a little bit of olive oil drizzled on, with a smattering of tomato puree. It was almost an obsession, and this is really saying something because I don’t like tomatoes. 

paella.

Tomato bread goodness.

                We weren’t in Spain long enough to make any generalizations about the country as a whole, and I know being a tourist does not give you a good feel for a region. However we noticed some minor differences from what we had grown accustomed to in France. For instance, I asked an American girl in my hostel studying in Madrid how to ask for something politely in a restaurant. She just said to use “quiero,” like the Taco Bell Chihuahua. When I asked about a conditional form she seemed confused and I explained to her that in France, you need to first apologize for your existence, grovel a bit, and then ask with a polite verb conjugation. In Spain, they are much more to the point. Also regarding language, I think the French have stolen all of Spain’s grammatical articles. In French, you never have a noun without an article (like the, a, an), and Spanish seems to be a bit article-deprived.

                As any French person will pridefully tell you, they have the best food in the world. However, if you want to taste real spice, Spain is where it's at. The French are masters with butter and delicate flavors, of which I am quite fond. But I like salt and spice every once in a while, which I found just across the border in Spain. Many of you have undoubtedly had (or at least heard of) crème brulée, France’s eggy custard dessert. Spain has a similar dessert called Catalan Crème, but is slightly different. The French crème brulée is served fairly cold in my experience and has a light, vanilla flavor. Catalan Crème isn’t chilled and is more like pudding than custard with a distinct cinnamon flavor. 

French crème brûlée

Spanish Catalan Creme

                Finally, how those in Barcelona treated foreigners was a bit different also. Of course by now we’re used to the standard distrust and annoyance with us for being American. However, the Spanish were fairly relentless with us, insistent on getting their point across in Spanish even though we don’t speak it. The French, on the other hand, have a tendency to try for a little bit and then give up on us entirely and ignore us from then on out. Oh the French. 

Needless to say, it’s good to be back in France.