Chapter 64: Barcelona Beach Bum
Barcelona is a Goldilocks city - not too big, not too small. Not too parochial, not too international. And I feel totally at home there now, since the moment I realized I knew a specific restaurant to satisfy every particular appetite I might experience. Maybe it could be a bit cleaner, though. Swimming in the water of Playa Mar Bella the other day I found myself swimming alongside what I first thought, to my great horror, was una medusa (jellyfish), but my horror ramped up several notches when I realized it was a (used) sanitary napkin. And after a heavy rainfall, the beach at Barceloneta has distinct odor of sewage, though it doesn't seem to bother the British bathers, but I guess they'll take what they can get.
So I landed in Barcelona in the beginning of June. La Muse (aka Sarah Perkins) was there again. We were always together. "Siamese twins, joined at the caipirinha" tartly noted Rhys, not without some justification:
Oh yeah, gotta love those caipirinhas. Sometimes I like (i.e. need) to drink two at once:
Sometimes, once in a while, we left the beach. For example, here's La Muse with her stolen bicing bike, which stayed in her room for weeks. I told her I thought it was supposed to go back in the bicing stand, not be used as a clothes rack. She said that it was clearly a gift from the man at the bicing stand, when her card didn't work, and anyway, she was lonely and she needed company in the quiet nights. Hahahahahahaha (or jejejejejejeje, as the Spanish write) as IF La Muse had quiet nights. I don't think so!
And to La Muse, we owe the following (need I mention stolen?) video of the exhibition of the amazing art of light and space and movement of Olaf Eliasson at the Fundacion Joan Miro (where they also have a very cool fountain of mercury).
La Muse and I went to the gorgeous little ancient Iberian town of Girona one day, and after we'd guzzled a couple of litres of sangria we set out to explore the town:
She's pretending to be Spanish above, with that fan thing, but I think she's really a mermaid, and I have the photographic proof:
I owe La Muse a big debt of gratitude because it was in the pages of her Hola magazine, that I encountered my future husband. We haven't actually met yet, but there's always next summer.
But I don't want to give the impression that La Muse was my sole companion in Barcelona. There was lovely German, and his equally lovely bf AD, who were frequent beach companions. Here's German in one of his module poses. My advice is never have your photo taken with German. You'll never come out well in comparison!
See how much better I look when German's not in the picture? That's AD on the left, and some tasty treat whose name I cannot remember in the middle.
I like AD. He's the only person besides me who's happy to spend an afternoon reading on the beach, utterly ignoring all the hubbub (much to German's incredulous disbelief). See? Here we are. Now the only thing that gives me pause to think is that AD's actually holding his book upside down, so I'm not so sure he was actually reading. Maybe he was only pretend reading.
And my best friend Ruth and her girlfriend Susie came to visit, the day after I landed. I feel bad because practically EVERYTHING we tried to do together didn't work out, and the weather wasn't great, and I fear they didn't have as good a time as they should have. I am wracked with guilt about it, so I want them to come back next year to make it up to them. But we did have a lovely dinner out one night with Martijn.
And we did go to the aquarium which was annoyingly Spanish in that very few of the signs actually concurred with the animals that were actually in the tank, but it was entirely worth int nonetheless because we saw what surely must be the most fantastical and surreal animal on the globe, the sea dragon:
And no sooner had R and S departed then Francois, aka Gaupi Papi, arrived from Boston the very next day. Although this isn't the best photo of us, I'm putting it in because it makes at least one of my biceps look big.
My brother also visited, and it was lovely to spend time with him, in part because he's such a funny guy. For example, one day we were lying on the beach (drinking caipirinhas). As we watched three impossibly beautiful Brazilians cavorting on the beach one day I sighed and said, "Oh, in my next life I want to come back as a Brazilian!" My brother sighed and said "In my next life I just want to come in a Brazilian." One night, after a few tapas, we met a friendly giraffe in the street:
And we did even manage to do a few things, other than tapas and caiperinhas. For example, one day we visited Tarragona to check out the Roman ruins.
Roman artifacts in the local museum:
Not all buildings are Roman:
And for lunch we ate snot boogers from the sea. My advice? When you order crab stew in a Catalan restaurant, ask to see exactly what you're getting before you order! And check out the video to see our appetizers!
We followed our delicious lunch with an afternoon of much needed relaxation on a quiet beach:
Another grand feature of my brother's trip was that he managed to prove something that I have long suspected. I have superpowers, I may even be a cyborg. One afternoon, he snapped this photo, just as my bionic spine was recharging itself:
My brother's camera also managed to capture me at a moment when I'd spent a particularly exhausting moment sleeping on the beach, before my superpowers had the ability to pull my face together again:
A particular highlight was the amazing fountain show at Plaza Espana. And let me be clear. I'm not easily impressed. I find fireworks terribly tedious. As a civilization we have OD'd on spectacle, and few more so than me. But the fountain show is, well, just AMAZING. Check out the video.
But of course there were tapas as well, particularly in the ham and cava bars, where the hanging hams have their own little fat cup, presumably to prevent the grease from dripping onto the patrons below.So I landed in Barcelona in the beginning of June. La Muse (aka Sarah Perkins) was there again. We were always together. "Siamese twins, joined at the caipirinha" tartly noted Rhys, not without some justification:
Oh yeah, gotta love those caipirinhas. Sometimes I like (i.e. need) to drink two at once:
Sometimes, once in a while, we left the beach. For example, here's La Muse with her stolen bicing bike, which stayed in her room for weeks. I told her I thought it was supposed to go back in the bicing stand, not be used as a clothes rack. She said that it was clearly a gift from the man at the bicing stand, when her card didn't work, and anyway, she was lonely and she needed company in the quiet nights. Hahahahahahaha (or jejejejejejeje, as the Spanish write) as IF La Muse had quiet nights. I don't think so!
And to La Muse, we owe the following (need I mention stolen?) video of the exhibition of the amazing art of light and space and movement of Olaf Eliasson at the Fundacion Joan Miro (where they also have a very cool fountain of mercury).
La Muse and I went to the gorgeous little ancient Iberian town of Girona one day, and after we'd guzzled a couple of litres of sangria we set out to explore the town:
She's pretending to be Spanish above, with that fan thing, but I think she's really a mermaid, and I have the photographic proof:
I owe La Muse a big debt of gratitude because it was in the pages of her Hola magazine, that I encountered my future husband. We haven't actually met yet, but there's always next summer.
But I don't want to give the impression that La Muse was my sole companion in Barcelona. There was lovely German, and his equally lovely bf AD, who were frequent beach companions. Here's German in one of his module poses. My advice is never have your photo taken with German. You'll never come out well in comparison!
See how much better I look when German's not in the picture? That's AD on the left, and some tasty treat whose name I cannot remember in the middle.
I like AD. He's the only person besides me who's happy to spend an afternoon reading on the beach, utterly ignoring all the hubbub (much to German's incredulous disbelief). See? Here we are. Now the only thing that gives me pause to think is that AD's actually holding his book upside down, so I'm not so sure he was actually reading. Maybe he was only pretend reading.
And my best friend Ruth and her girlfriend Susie came to visit, the day after I landed. I feel bad because practically EVERYTHING we tried to do together didn't work out, and the weather wasn't great, and I fear they didn't have as good a time as they should have. I am wracked with guilt about it, so I want them to come back next year to make it up to them. But we did have a lovely dinner out one night with Martijn.
And we did go to the aquarium which was annoyingly Spanish in that very few of the signs actually concurred with the animals that were actually in the tank, but it was entirely worth int nonetheless because we saw what surely must be the most fantastical and surreal animal on the globe, the sea dragon:
And no sooner had R and S departed then Francois, aka Gaupi Papi, arrived from Boston the very next day. Although this isn't the best photo of us, I'm putting it in because it makes at least one of my biceps look big.
My brother also visited, and it was lovely to spend time with him, in part because he's such a funny guy. For example, one day we were lying on the beach (drinking caipirinhas). As we watched three impossibly beautiful Brazilians cavorting on the beach one day I sighed and said, "Oh, in my next life I want to come back as a Brazilian!" My brother sighed and said "In my next life I just want to come in a Brazilian." One night, after a few tapas, we met a friendly giraffe in the street:
And we did even manage to do a few things, other than tapas and caiperinhas. For example, one day we visited Tarragona to check out the Roman ruins.
Roman artifacts in the local museum:
Not all buildings are Roman:
And for lunch we ate snot boogers from the sea. My advice? When you order crab stew in a Catalan restaurant, ask to see exactly what you're getting before you order! And check out the video to see our appetizers!
We followed our delicious lunch with an afternoon of much needed relaxation on a quiet beach:
Another grand feature of my brother's trip was that he managed to prove something that I have long suspected. I have superpowers, I may even be a cyborg. One afternoon, he snapped this photo, just as my bionic spine was recharging itself:
My brother's camera also managed to capture me at a moment when I'd spent a particularly exhausting moment sleeping on the beach, before my superpowers had the ability to pull my face together again:
A particular highlight was the amazing fountain show at Plaza Espana. And let me be clear. I'm not easily impressed. I find fireworks terribly tedious. As a civilization we have OD'd on spectacle, and few more so than me. But the fountain show is, well, just AMAZING. Check out the video.
The Spanish love their pork, but I have to concur that jamon truly is as close to God as we're likely to get here on earth.
Now, lest you think that I did nothing except eat tapas and drink and go to the beach I'd like to state for the record that I did study Spanish at Don Quijote as well, from 9am to 1pm (nearly) every day. And I only missed a very few classes a causa de un resacon (which basically means a motherfucker huge hangover). And although I feel I have reached a rather horrible equilibrium on my Spanish, wherein for every word or rule I learn I forget two, I did learn some rather interesting things.
For example, there is no word for "procrastinate" in Spanish. When I pointed this out, my teacher said "It's the attitude of 'manana', and while he was totally correct at the same time he missed my point utterly. Fish, if they could speak, would probably have no word for water. When you live in something, are surrounded by it, immersed in it, you don't even realize it exists.
Another interesting thing I learned is that la tarde (the afternoon) actually means the hours up to and including 8pm. And this is why you can't eat dinner until after 9pm at the earliest. For some weird reason, the Spanish live later than the rest of the world, helped by the fact that they seem to have a genetic mutation which obviates the need for regular sleep.
Now, lest you think that I did nothing except eat tapas and drink and go to the beach I'd like to state for the record that I did study Spanish at Don Quijote as well, from 9am to 1pm (nearly) every day. And I only missed a very few classes a causa de un resacon (which basically means a motherfucker huge hangover). And although I feel I have reached a rather horrible equilibrium on my Spanish, wherein for every word or rule I learn I forget two, I did learn some rather interesting things.
For example, there is no word for "procrastinate" in Spanish. When I pointed this out, my teacher said "It's the attitude of 'manana', and while he was totally correct at the same time he missed my point utterly. Fish, if they could speak, would probably have no word for water. When you live in something, are surrounded by it, immersed in it, you don't even realize it exists.
Another interesting thing I learned is that la tarde (the afternoon) actually means the hours up to and including 8pm. And this is why you can't eat dinner until after 9pm at the earliest. For some weird reason, the Spanish live later than the rest of the world, helped by the fact that they seem to have a genetic mutation which obviates the need for regular sleep.
Spain has many colonias de focas. For example, one quickly established itself at the pool in Madrid during the Gay Pride:
Oh look! Here's me cavorting with some of the pelagic wildlife in Madrid! The species of seal on my immediate right is called Yasir and it can be found in diverse environments around our globe, including but not limited to Iraq, London and Australia! It doesn't consumer caipirinhas (who ever heard of such foolishness?) but I'm told it does tricks for treats of frozen herring! I'm not sure who the other seal is. Unfortunately.
Another day at seal colony and here's Piotr and Mark, below. Now this is an important picture. They don't know it but one of them is going to have to give his flat to me. So, here's the official notification! Piotr and Mark, wake up! I covet your living spaces, but I'm willing to make do with just one of them, so you discuss it between yourselves and decide who will give up his beautiful flat to me. Don't worry. You'll still be able to come for supper. I may even cook, just to say thanks.
And when we're not drinking caipirinhas (or in a pinch sangria) at the seal colony, my friends and spend a lot of time on rooftops drinking, erm, you guessed it! Caipirinhas! Nectar of the Gods! Below, yours truly, Daniel, La Muse, and Mark on some roof somewhere. The pitcher of caipirinhas is resting just out of the frame.
Still on the Axel hotel we have: Daniel (looking frighteningly perky), Julio, Mark (looking blitzed), me (still looking gorgeous in red, you have to admit) and Michael on the rooftop of Axel Hotel.
And then, finally, a picture of my ever present, always enchanting, ever reliable and sunny companion in Barcelona: the beautiful, gorgeous city itself.
posted by Peter at 8:59 AM
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