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Published: October 13th 2007
Our first view of the Mediterranean
From Port Beau train station. Tried to order a coffee. Did not speak French or Spanish in the cafe, only Catalan.Barcelona has been traveller's dream. First of all, I am trying to resist gushing about the city (although there is much to fall for); what has happened to us is not the usual falling in love with the city but instead we have fallen for fellow travellers.
We caught the overnight train from Paris in a happy mood. What surprised us is that the sleeper trains in Europe are pretty similar to the trains in India. Indian ones are slower, dirtier and have loud coffee vendours at every station
but are ten times cheaper, go further and have the same amount of sleeping space, if not more! (Or at least they fit a lot more in). We slept well and woke in Port Beau, just across the French-Spanish border and on the Mediterranean. It was the first time Ana and I had seen the Mediterranean (I may have seen it from the African side but I do not think so). It was lovely.
After a long wait, we caught the train onto Barcelona through very different terrain. The houses were squarer, red-tiled roofs and mustard or pink coloured. The terrain had become darker, undulating hills coated in olive trees.
The tower of the Cathedral
Through the exotic garden in the cloisters. Ana was a bit annoyed that I did not get any photos of the geese. Sorry We travelled through this area enraptured by the clouds, sunshine, tall crops and the Mediterranean. And then we got to the Graffiti hostel.
The hostel that could
We had booked ourselves into the cheapest hostel in all of Spain. We were in a twenty bed dorm a little out of central Barcelona (but not too far, we were within walking distance of Sagrada Familia). We booked in, showered (the two showers were
in dorm with only a flimsy curtain to protect the other 19 people from more gratuitous nudity) and hit the town. The tourist office was pretty unhelpful so we just cruised around the Rambla: Raval, el Barri Gothic and la Ribera, getting a feel for the older side of the city. It reminded me very much of Buenos Aires: old, towering, slightly dilapitdated apartment buildings lining thin windy streets with tiny cafes and boutique stores at ground level. Perhaps what reminded most were the cracked paving stones and the dog poo but it honestly added to the vibe.
These parts of the city are intoxicating. We ate regularly there, trying to find more obscure cafes each time. We went to the
Modern Art Museum (fantastic displays
The Graffiti Hostel
We were in the New York room. That may have been a reference to overcrowding but so postmodern we both found it hard to connect with almost all the pieces apart from a German amateur film and an Irish installation piece), explored the
Cathedral (the most amazing vaulted cloisters every, with chapels, tropical garden and geese in a pond). As we got back, we joined a lot of other new comers in the hostel.
And so started a week of procrastination: we did not want to leave Barcelona because the other hostellers we had met, groups of English, Swedes and Danes with whom we ate every night, got drunk on cheap sangria (1 euro a litre!) and then went out clubbing with. We all got on so well that it was almost with tears in our eyes when we said goodbye 4 days later. You must understand that despite travelling for six months and meeting many people on the way, for this trip this was our first hostel and what a cracker! This hostel (so named for the Graffiti that covers every wall) is tiny but has a large terrace for eating, drinking, smoking and getting to know one another
and has a pet rabbit running about! It belongs to the Argentine manager and
is called Mariloche. Other than pooing on Louisa's bed, it added wonderfully to the laid back atmosphere.
On the most memorable night we headed out at one in the morning after getting suitably drunk to find a bar. It was Tuesday, our second night, and no bars in the area were open. We walked for two kilometres looking for one and Louisa (a Dane) really had to pee. Ana jokingly suggested a flowerbed. Louisa took her up on this suggestion. It was funny
not because she bared her white bottom to the Barcelona night
nor because she peed for about literally seven minutes and still had more left
but because this flowerbed was situated in the busiest intersection our area of Barcelona had. People were pulling over left right and centre, whistling or just staring in disbelief as we laughed and took pictures. We never found a bar but I had a good argument with a Swedish Lord of the Rings addict (she was Swedish, not an addict of the Swedish version of the Lord of the Rings).
We made such good friends with another Swede called Malin that she invited us to her parents' holiday flat in
The terrace of the hostel
Complete with Danes and Swedes. It was a Scandinavian invasion they claimed. Although they all agreed that Finland was not a part of Scandinavia Alicante on the Andalucian coast. We at first said no, we only had two more weeks in Europe and had much to see. But Ana woke up on our last day in Barcelona and said 'Europe will still be here when we come back. Let's go to Alicante!' And so we did! But first, we should encourage you all to come to Barcelona even if a twenty-bed, graffiti-covered dorm is not your idea of heaven.
Gaudi and Modernism
By far the best tourist attraction in Barcelona is to see the modernist buildings, the most famous of which have been designed by Gaudi, a native Catalan. At first these buildings, due to their very distinctive design, seem almost comical in their surroundings. The striking use of curves and colours seems to leap out of fairy tales. But after you explore them a bit more, the otherworldly aesthetic grows on you and once you venture inside them, you realise that the movement covered every aspect of living space, not just a striking facade.
After going to the
Pedrera, seeing the museum and discovering how inventive Gaudi was (such as using design structures that made the exterior walls non-weightbearing so that
La Casa Balltó
Perhaps his most outlandish piece, certainly very striking due to its location there could be large windows, a decorative facade and natural light in every room), you become saddened that with two world wars and a depression the movement never spread much further. While we did not see inside the
Casa Ballto, the exterior subtly grabs yours eyes and draws you in.
While the unfinished (since 1902; only in Spain)
Sagrada Familia Cathedral is considered Gaudi's pinnacle, the
park Guell was my favourite place in Barcelona. It was an attempt at an all Modernist design neighbourhood which failed financially after only the central park was created. We walked through lovely dry gardens, waiting expectantly to come across the climax: a huge pavilion with a square on top, lined with undulating, mosaic-ed benches; to walk down gardens to the underneath, a pillared and mosaic-ed hall leading down to steps decorated with natural images to two small modernist houses guarding the entry. As a lot of Gaudi's inspiration came from nature (trees, sponges, skeletons, etc) the park's seemingly bizarre design is complemented by its natural setting.
The passing of the movement perhaps shows its ingenuity, with only a few odd buildings dotting the Barcelonan landscape.
More Barcelona
However, despite being so
A street in Ciutat Vella
Near our local discovery! unique, modernism was not as beautiful as the old central neighbourhoods we explored. The weather set off the city, light streaming in above narrow streets of lovely old buildings with small shops and boutiques at ground level. While Barri Gothic was haunted by tourists, closer to shore the
Ciutat Vella was fantastic. It was here that we fulfilled our task every place we visit: to find a local gem, as yet undiscovered by tourists.
We were exploring old town and had reached George Orwell Plaça. We looked down a pee-stained, dark road (Carrer de Codols) which had nothing open at ground level (hence no tourists) and decided to venture down. Just before finding daylight we came across Quid, a lovely little cafe which served three courses and half a litre of wine for €9.50 and the food was delicious, different and interesting! This was reasonable for Barcelonan standards but after Paris seemed like great value. However, it had a new menu every day (we tested their word by going twice), a fantastic atmosphere (dark haphazard mustard painted walls and exposed brick) and no one inside except us spoke anything other than Spanish or Catalan. So find this place when
A street in La Ribera
See what we mean about the joy of random wandering? you go, but keep it to yourself!
We spent time walking along the beach admiring more breasts and finding great bars and cafes, such as the Orella Negra Bar just off La Rambla, and exploring museums and art galleries. The John Miro Foundation was great to walk to as it takes you through Montjuic Park and has a fantastic permanent exhibit on the man and his works. But more impressive was the temporary exhibit by a Japanese artist, Aya Takano, that combined traditional views of women with the Japanese manga, pop-culture, cartoonish, even paedophilic view and was great.
Catching up with family
Whilst in Barcelona, we dropped in to see Betta and Paola Triado, Aussies who have lived in Spain for the past 20 years. I (Ana) have quite a large extended family, and I keep forgetting how we are related, but they are family and it was so lovely to meet them both! They run a great little bar called
Bar Kasparo, just off the busy street of La Rambla. My wonderful grandfather, Pa, made sure I had two photocopied maps of downtown Barcelona, complete with a highlighted path and a list of contact information of the
Triados before I left Melbourne. Thus, Chas and I had no problem finding the bar, so thank you to Pa! And coincidentally enough, when we stopped by to have a drink with Betta, my cousin Kete Feehan, whom I haven't seen in years, was also stopping by to say his farewells to Betta! It was complete luck to see him as he was taking the overnight train to Paris, then on to Oz via London. So it seems sometimes you have to travel across the other side of world to see your family from back home!
Shame on us
Our time in Mil Palmeras (the tiny beach 'urbanizacion' outside Alicante where Malin´s flat is) has been tinged with guilt (Chas says guilt, I say luxury! These holiday apartments cost a fortune to rent out! We saw a real estate board today and during the summer, some of these places cost €550 a week! Ouch! Thank you so much to Malin's parents for letting us stay at their apartment). All we have done is sat with Malin, drinking Sangria, playing cards (and drinking games), watching films and swimming either in the pool or the Mediterranean. So we have got to
know and thoroughly enjoy the company of Malin and a new Kiwi friend David. We have had a ball, and placed relaxation, beach and the making of new friends as a higher priority than seeing the tourist sights.
It was really nice to spend some time with David, a fellow Australiasian. And we all commiserated together after finding out that both Australian and New Zealand are out of the rugby cup. Noooo...! Chas says: Vamos los pumas! We found out whilst wandering around the supermarket that David has been severely deprived of baked beans since being in Europe. So, over the last two days we have eaten
a lot of beans, I think we're up to can number 8! Funnily enough, it hasn't actually been smelly though! Phew!
It´s been both really great to have meet such wonderful people, but sad at the same time to say goodbye. But hopefully we shall see them over in Oz one day!
While we are on holiday and can spend it as we wish, Spain was a country we had never been to and had been planning to explore. So instead of spending 2 to 4 days in every town
Malin, Chas and David
Chas what are you doing looking normal? we planned to take in, we have so far spent 5 days in Barcelona and 5 days in Mil Palmeras. Our mantra has been: Spain will still be here when we get back!
Sadly, our time here has resulted in us missing out on the one place I wanted to go, the Alhambra, the peak of Moorish architecture in Spain. We looked for info online and saw that you can prebook your entrance tickets. We looked into it and saw that it was booked out for a week!
Seven thousand tickets a day for a week! In October. I would hate to try and see it in summer.
So with a sigh of disappointment, we move on to Seville via a walk in Toledo. It is one of those things that while travelling you cannot do everything and some things are better done over several days instead of flying in, doing the tourist beat, and then checking out. Seville we look forward to and, while it is a shame to not see the Alhambra, as we keep saying, it will be there when we come back. And there should not be a second of regret over our time
Stupid sign
I wanted to ask them what day they were open every year. Plus, somewhat fortuitously, the arrow points to a reflection of Malin's bottom. Two birds, one photo by the beach with Malin and David.
Stupid signs abound
I am sorry to say that I have been lax in European additions to the stupid sign competition. Sof and Zac have found a great one forbidding cars from spontaneously combusting. I have found three European competitors (good, but not quite in the India/China league) but only have a photo of one! So I have to describe the other two:
Sherborne in Bloom: Sherborne has a permanent sign made of concrete and asphalt outside the time declaring itself to be in bloom. It is surrounded by flowerbeds. Somewhat amusingly, in the two and a half months that we lived there, not one single bloom ever graced this sign or even the road it was on.
Toutes direccion: On many big French intersections on major roads they have the confusing road signs (you have to know what direction you are driving to on the other side of the country, for example leave Adelaide driving towards Melbourne, take the third left towards Darwin and then right again to Brisbane). The great thing is that two of the roads will have signs to towns, but the one you always take states that
NOT a stupid sign... pure gold
It can be seen from Park Guell; if you can't read it, it reads: Why do they call it tourist season if we can't shoot them? this road goes in
all directions; this begs the question as to the purpose of the other two roads, or the one you were one, as this magnificent road goes to the moon, the centre of the earth and from where you came from. Technically I suppose, all roads go in all directions but then what would be the point in the confusing road signs in the first place.
Disclaimer: I have had much negative feedback over a certain photo in our last blog, either to do with crepe-induced cleavage or with the nudity. I apologise; in Europe every ad has naked people and nudity is rife in many other aspects of life here. I did not feel embarassed to put it up (and as you should know, I did not take it) but if it has upset anyone I am sorry. I hope you had a laugh, be it nervous or not.
Many many photos on this blog, so make sure you check out page two below!
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Chasanaski
Ana & Chas Fisher
A complaint in disgust regarding the title
I've read more or less all your text, and I supose that the title refears to the café in "Port Beau" (do you mean Port-Bou?). With only that, I think that your title is a bit disgusting, because seems to point that's a shame that catalan exists. I don't know your level of knowledge about Catalonia, catalan or some political problems about this, but catalan IS the language of Catalona, although about 50% speak usually castillian (spanish), which I and everyone fully respect. But the catalan language has been endangered for centuries, and still now has survived barely. It's the strongest (in number of speakers) language in Europe without a country behind it to suport it. And just last week has been the official invited culture in the Frankfurt book Fair. So, please reconsider your title. Many thanks, Salvador REPLY Dear Salvador, The title in no way criticises the existence of catalan. I am sorry that it came across that way. I am from Australia and very few things about our national heritage sadden me more than that British colonisation has destroyed over two hundred native languages there. The majority of our readers are from Australia and only speak English, so the title would mean little to them. I meant to add a paragraph explaining the title (which translates as "Pity that everyone speaks catalan") thus: after travelling for six months through countries where we did not speak the language (other than England), I was looking forward to coming to Spain as I am a fluent Spanish speaker and wanted to communicate to locals in their own language. So it was a bit of a surprise to not understand a lot of what was going on around me (naturally all Catalans speak Spanish so we could at least communicate). I hope this satisfies you sense of outrage. Would it be possible for me to add this exchange on the comments section of the blog so that anyone else who misunderstands the intention of the title can be assured? Thank you so much for taking the time to read the blog and I hope that apart from the title, it was of interest to you. I am adding a rider to the title as I write this. Yours faithfully Chas Fisher