Swompdonkey

... to pick up where I left off, my first full day in Barcelona was capped off by a night on the town -which, to me, seemed to be de rigueur considering the circumstances -I was in Barcelona, dammit! Inexplicably, many of the people at the hostel did not seem interested in going out, claiming they were "tired"... In my opinion, if you are on a trip, and you are going to take a night off, Barcelona, widely considered to have one of the best nightlifes in Europe, is NOT the place to do it. Nevertheless, I managed to meet some pretty good guys from the States and Oznur, a girl from Turkey, who were interested.

I had actually seen Oznur before... kinda. She had chatted to the aforementioned Canadian girls on the train to Barcelona as I dozed. Still, we recognized each other and laughed at the coincidence. Barcelona must have a hundred hostels and yet we ended up in the same one. I found it pretty cool to spend time with someone from Turkey, after weeks of hanging around with yanks and other members of the Commonwealth.

Barcelona at night is a sight to behold. La Rambla and the surrounding streets are choked with tourists and locals, street performers, vendors, artists, musicians, vagabonds, drug pushers, prostitutes (one of whom flashed me and grabbed my butt as I walked by... no kidding) and dozens of guys carrying around six packs of beer and trying to sell you one for a Euro. The beerboys can´t possibly do very good business until the end of the night, when people are drunk and lazy, because you can buy tall cans of beer for less than a Euro in grocery stores on either side of the main blvd. That is what I did more than once that night. The American boys opted for 2€ wine, which they drank quickly and efficiently straight from the bottle as we wandered.

We hit a few cool bars, including one (the name escapes me at the moment)that was done up like some psychedelic enchanted forest with gnomes and toadstools and scary trees with faces. We also hung out in plazas, where patrons from bars packed to the rafters spilled out into the main square, drinks in hand, to continue their revelry at the next stop. It was loud, raucous, and plain fun. Being the responsible sightseers that we were, Oznur and I decided to call it a night around 3 a.m. in order to get a bit of shut-eye before tackling the city the next day. The Americans, somewhat mesmerized, stayed out and paid for it the next day... but I´m sure they didn´t really mind.

After a night of torture on the rack in my hostel bed, I got up cranky at around 9 and headed out with Rahim, a guy from Toronto, to check out more of the Barri Gotic and the area East of it. We finally met up with Oznur, who had gone to buy her train ticket to San Sebastian, at midday, at the Sagrada Familia cathedral, Gaudi´s unfinished masterpiece. I thought that I was finally "churched-out" by the time I got to Barcelona, but the S-F proved me wrong. I was captivated by this structure that is, after all, essentially a construction site. At the pace they are building, it should be busy around the time my grandkids bring their children to Spain. I explained the two facades, depicting the birth and early life of Jesus, and the Passion, to my two companions, both of whom happened to be muslim. It was kind of funny to tell this story, which, owing to my Euro-centric point of view, I used to think was universally well-known...

Rahim took off to buy his ticket (I was very happy to have bought mine upon my arrival in this city. Barcelona, for all its charms, is fairly spread out). Oznur and I headed to Parc Guelli, which was designed by Gaudi. I was lukewarm about going there, but decided to take a chance. It turned out to be the highlight of the day. We ended up sitting in this amazing place, sipping a beer in an alcove sculpted from the rock, and enjoying an incredible view of the city. Later, we checked out the Gaudi museum and a few other fantastic sites, before heading back to the hostel. We were only there long enough to change before heading out for supper..It was then that I realized that it was 10 pm already! My two amazing days in Barcelona were capped by another stroll down La Rambla. This city had definitely lived up to expectations and was certainly one of my favourite places. It is weird, elegant, crazy, pretty, fun. It is hard to do it justice with descriptions... you just have to visit, that is all there is to it.

Yesterday, I got to Atocha station in Madrid after a long train ride and was greeted by my Aunt Mila, who immediately took me to see the memorial for the victims of March 11. I was very moved. Upon arrival at her apartment, I greeted my 97-year old grandfather, know to all as el abuelo (literally, "The Grandfather").

Although at times he didn´t know me, there were also flickers of recognition in his eyes, particularly when I gave him the pictures of the family. He held them in his hands and studied them at length. After a few minutes, groaning as he struggled to raise himself out of his chair (my aunt insisted I "allow him to do his exercise"), he walked slowly across the room, and delicately place the pictures on his mantle, alongside other family photos.

I also spent some time with my cousin Celia and her husband, who dropped by after work, and I discovered that Abuelo and I enjoy similar hobbies... since I have been smoking on this trip, we spent alot of time coughing together. It was great to see him again, considering that T thought that the last time, years ago, was really going to be the last time.

Once, today, Diana, my Abuelo´s helper, shouted into his ear (he is quite deaf) "Don Jose, sabes quien es este?" (Don Jose, do you know who this is?). He furrowed his brow and appeared to think for a minute. When told that it was his Grandson from Canada, his face lit up. "hombre!" he said. I laughed.


I have been checking my usual sites for news and commentary. Occasionally, Mark Steyn hits one out of the park and into the next county. THIS ONE is a bat-bursting grand slam, as far as I am concerned.