Chorizo, Jamon, Olives, Queso, Potatoes, Tortillas, Tapas...

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As soon as we got to Barcelona, we started eating and really never stopped. While Spain isn't exactly a bargain-traveler's haven, it is a welcome break after many of the other European cities. Going out for a meal and grabbing a glass of wine doesn´t break the bank and the food is simple but amazing.

We ditched the tourists along the pedestrian Las Ramblas and found a student bar near the University of Barcelona to watch Spain beat Saudi Arabia. Since Spain had already clinched their spot in the Round of 16 before this match and the win was rather uneventful, we thought it was really odd when we began to hear firecrackers going off all over the city. After our tapas supper, we wandered by the cathedral square to find people dancing to a polka band and kids shooting off fireworks from every corner. Either Barcelona is a really crazy place or this was no ordinary Friday night. We consulted our guidebook to find that July 23 is the festival of St. Joan, "when days of endless firecrackers welcome summer.¨ It was June 23, but the firecrackers were definitely endless. We chalked up another Lonely Planet misprint and embraced our new holiday with a piece of St. Joan´s Day cake at a nearby restaurant (any holiday with a namesake cake is already awesome). We assume that St. Joan is the patron saint of Barcelona or Catalonia, but we know that he is the benefactor of hand surgeons and sparkler manufacterers. The crowds of people and deafening firecrackers led us past the Barri Gotic, Las Ramblas, and the waterfront, and we followed the music to the beach. Half of Barcelona was there, and as we ducked to miss the oncoming fireworks, we wondered when the riot police would arrive. Maybe it´'just that we grew up with Smokey the Bear during our Saturday morning cartoons, but the sight of parents joyfully looking on as their children threw bottle rockets at each other was a bit alarming. No description of the beach can do this night justice, and no photograph would come out. We turned around to leave at around 2:30, but along our way we were swept back by an oncoming drumline. We had no choice but to join the parade and return to the beach for another couple of hours.

We didn´t make it to the hostel's breakfast the next morning, but we doubt very much if anyone was there. We grabbed a quick cafe cortado and headed out to see the bizarre architecture of Antoni Gaudí. If Dr. Seuss illustrated a gothic cathedral, then you might have some idea of theSagrada Familia. Kind of like Guns 'N' Roses´"Chinese Democracy" album, Gaudí's masterpiece has been long in the process, but will never be done. Begun in 1882, only 8 of the anticipated 12 turrets have been completed, and the entire interior is nothing but scaffolding (even the website is "under construction"). Still they are actually working on it, but you have to wonder if the time and money spent on the exhibitions about the building of the church could have been spent on...oh say...building the actual church. Also, the glassed in "model builders" who spend their days building and rebuilding the model for the visitors is really unnecessary. Also unnecessary...um...paying the admission to see these exhibitions, model builders, and empty interior. Unless real progress is made soon, just circle the exterior for free. If you really must go to the top of the tower as Chris did, then ante up the extra 2 Euros and take the elevator. We climbed the stairs because we're cheap and the line seemed longer from below, but we didn't realize that the line continued all the way to the top. Hours later, we emerged from the tower's exit and ran to the nearest tapas bar for a pitcher of sangria. Refueled, we set off for Gaudí's Parc Güell, another somewhat unfinished project. Designed as a planned community with houses, schools, and shops, the area was instead turned into a mazelike public park after his death. Gaudí himself lived here, and his house is now a museum that again isn't worth the admission since the exterior park is the real attraction. After all this walking, we settled in back at the university bar to root for Argentina against Mexico. They gave us a bit of scare heading into overtime, but we will still be able to see Argentina play from their home country.

Since Sunday is a slow day and many things in Spain are closed, we were happy to find that some of the museums are open for limited hours. We had just enough time to catch the exhibition of vinyl records and album cover art at the Museu d'Art Contemporani de Barcelona (MACBA, since all Contemporary Art Museums are required to have an acronym). Later we wandered around the large Montjuïc Park, but found that the massive road work and construction ruined our commune with nature. We took some good pictures from the top of the hill and left. Of course, it was time to eat again, and for our last night in Barcelona, we consulted the guidebook to find Origins 99.9%, the best meal we had. They claim that 99.9% of the food comes from Catalonia (we don´t know where that other .1% comes from).

Trains between Barcelona and Madrid were really full so we ended up on rediculously early, especially for Spain, 7 am journey. Furthermore, we were left with the really uncomfortable seats that face other people. There was no napping since the nuns across from us kept kicking. We were forced to keep the Spanish custom and take a siesta before setting out to the Reina Sofia. We had to see the requisite "Guernica" by Picasso on display, but the museum also had a special exhibition looking at the Picassso's influences and studies for the famous work. That night, we followed several recommendations from our friend Amanda Ruch who studied in Madrid. She sent us to a great sherry bar and a fun restaurant called La Burbuja que Rie or the Laughing Bubble. Amanda, you were right Calle Angel is really hard to find, but Chris needed to test her Spanish anyway. After asking a few people "What do you call what you are eating" we were able to order a very good meal.

The next day Chris worshipped at the Museo del Prado, and Justin worshipped at the Museo del Jamon. But the focus of the day was the Spain vs. France football match, and we found a spot in front of the big screen in the Puerto del Sol. The crowd was great, and thanks to a local TV station handed out Spain T-shirts, we actually looked like we blended into the crowd. If only Madrid had just put the screen a little bit higher. Since we couldn't see through people's heads, we dodged out at the half and found a bar with a TV we could actually view. But this move caused a disasterous turn of luck. France scored twice, and our streak was officially ended. Our visions of celebrating with the Spaniards were dashed. So we went to eat more chorizo.

Yesterday, we flew from Spain to Madrid, which usually would not deserve mentioning, except that we cannot let it pass without saying "Iberia is a terrible airline." Really, it's the worst airline we've been on. The 12 hour flight added 2 hours so that they could fix the air conditioning system. On this 14 hour flight, they fed us once. So, we've been gorging the past few days, but who eats once in 14 hours! And if you dared ask a flight attendant for peanuts, watch out. Even the bathrooms were gross. Oh yeah, and the Madrid airport sucks too. Somehow, an architect convinced people that the most efficient route for people between check-in and the gate should involve both a shuttle bus and a tram. The signs actually say that it takes 22 minutes to get from the security and passport check to the gate - 22 minutes!?! OK, forgive the rant, it makes us feel better.

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