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Published: October 16th 2012
One of the milder Iberian Ham cutters
Just prior to the attempted cutting up by one of his colleagues of a meatier Canadian ham!My heart raced just a bit when he came at me, long knife extended in my direction. YIKES!
We were in one of the large modern malls in Barcelona. Just like many North American shopping centres, it had Sephora and Pull & Bear and Tiffanys and a food court with Burger King, McDonalds, Starbucks and a dozen, maybe 15 other European chains to feed the masses.
But the one place that had caught my eye over and over again from the moment we arrived in Barcelona was the meat shop in the centre of the walkway.
It contained a foot-outward facing line-up of 15 or 20 cured pig legs, like semi-nude pin-up girls in the Follies Bergere, hooves included, each laying flat out horizontal on a vice to hold the gam steady.
Each "Iberica" (Spain is on the Iberian peninsula of Europe) ham leg was cured and smoked in a different fashion. Local shoppers would come to the counter and order some freshly thin-sliced ham in their choice of "flavour". A professionally uniformed cutter behind the counter then took his long, razor-sharp blade and pulled it with both hands towards his body over the length
of the ham leg to produce super-thin translucent sheets of the ham to wrap and present to the buyer.
I had my eye focussed through the viewfinder of my camera for a great action shot when I heard the crash. I was standing back from the shop about 30 feet trying to capture the unique-to-me vision of the whole procedure. I thought I was discrete and totally unnoticed. WRONG!
I heard the sharp bang of the lifted and dropped hinged-countertop as one of the butchers raced out of the shop in my direction, waving his knife at me. Tall, dark-skinned, and muscular, this prize-pig fighter had a total advantage in every way that I could think of. I lowered my camera quickly and backed up in the submissive position, hastily preparing to meet my maker.
When he could see what a sissy-boy I was, he lowered his blade, snarled nastily at me and turned back to the counter and his work.
Was this his reaction to a perceived terrorist-type scouting on my part? A bad hair day that said "no photos today"?--I guess I'll never know. I only wish I had snapped his photo when he
came at me, it would have made great "red-handed" evidence for the Spanish police authorities at his murder trial.
BABY You're A Firework
There are some moments that take your breath away, right? Glimpses of time that you hope will never ever end...the sight of a breathtakingly beautiful woman...a song that pierces your inner core and makes you feel intense pain or great joy...the warm, fragrant cinnamon smell of your Mom's apple pie baking.
Katy Perry and Friderich Handel met metaphorically for us in the waterworks of the Plaza d'Espana a few nights back. The simulated water flash of Perry's song "Firework" intersected with the splash and circumstance of Handel's "Waterworks" in an amazing sound, light and water show.
At the bottom end of the perhaps 300 metre long, fountain-lined plaza leading to the steps upwards to the towering National Museum of Catalonia Art, a huge circular fountain was the site of an incredible night display.
Like a fireworks show on a national anniversary day, the fountain waters spewed and splayed from dozens of different locations throughout the display. A dazzling combination of exploding then receding then cloud-like waters mixed in a swirling pallet of colours...all timed to the
Gaudi's Design
One of the iconic apartment blocks designed by architect Gaudi in Barcelona backdrop of Bach, Mozart, Vivaldi and Handel, then operatic arias, then Katy Perry and other pop and rock music.
Thousands of people watched from vantage points to the sides and from above on the steps and plazas of the art museum. The ghostly backdrop of the monolithic Capitol-esque museum with laser lights radiating outwards into the mild night air instilled a dreamy ephemeral quality to it all. Simply, it made me feel awe-struck by what beauty humankind can paint and create with the basic elements of sound, and light, and water.
WHEN a visitor arrives in Barcelona,
a word they will hear early and often is GAUDI (pronounced Gow-Dee). Antoni Gaudi symbolizes much of what Barcelona is about today and also separates Barcelona from many other wonderful European cities.
Gaudi was a unique architect who lived in the late 19th century and into the first quarter of the 20th before succumbing to an accident under the wheels of a Barcelona tram in 1926. But before he died so unceremoniously he transformed the look of modern Barcelona with his towering and still-unfinished basilica
La Familia Sagrada, as well as
Parc Guell, Casa Mila, and
Casa Vicens.
Distinctive hardly describes his modernist designs that are colourful and curvy and almost Disney-like in their whimsical approach. Much of his work involves the use of extensive mosaik tile. Some would describe his work as inspired and wondrous. Others would just plain call it gaudy. Larry places himself in the fan category...Maureen and Will (who flew in from Glasgow for a 3 day whirlwind tour of Barcelona) are probably a bit less enamoured by the flamboyancy of his style. Love him or hate him, Gaudi has left an indelible mark on the Barcelona that we see today.
Our last few days in this Catalonian capital were spent, as I said above, with our son Will, visiting many of Barcelona's hot tourist spots and enjoying more
cafe con leches and
cervezas and
paella. Will has been studying architecture in Glasgow for a school term. Seeing Barcelona through his eyes has helped us learn and appreciate certain features of design and construction that would be lost on our novice abilities, a bit like viewing artwork in museums when the intent or qualities of the artist are poorly understood.
We've now said our adioses to our landlady Pilar,who
gave us an appreciation for slow talking (she fired Spanish at us like rapid-fire machine gun bursts) and non-fish soups...our co-resident in the apartment Tea, the young American university student who helped us understand Pilar when the words were uttered far too quickly for our challenged ears and brains...to our group of dedicated and patient and funny teachers-- Arturo, Natalia, Raquel, and Maica-- at the Spanish school who took us the next leap forward in our language abilities and also understanding the Spanish traditions and psyche a bit better...to our co-students, a young and intelligent and enthusiastic group of learners from a plethora of countries who treated us like equals and with great humour and acceptance...and to the city of Barcelona that nurtured us and stretched us daily and taught us even more about life and how others live in this fascinating, colourful world.
Today we have awoken in the chillier, damper city of Glasgow, Scotland. A city with more "coolth" (a word commonly used here to describe the temperature) than Barcelona. Some of the accents here have already challenged us to understand English even more than the Spanish we dealt with in Barcelona.
In Scotland we expect
to encounter more fish & chips than paella...more British tea than cafe con leche...and more, well...ale than cerveza!
Another day of possibility and discovery arises!
Until next time...
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Cherie Miltimore
non-member comment
Don't Stop
Keep travelling, keep blogging. I so enjoy your work. Thanks for sharing!