Viva Barcelona! Day 3 (Sunday)

Woke at 9 and slowly stirred myself into life. We took our time getting ready as I needed to pack my bags, and we ate a leisurely breakfast indoors where I went back to tea (I’ll miss gorgeous Spanish coffee) and ate toast and fig jam. Dismantled my painting from the walking gallery and managed to squeeze it back into my handluggage (I am quite proud of this feat).

At 11 we drove out to Montjuic, so named for the Jewish community that once lived there. I loved the car journey, peering out at the city through the zesty wind. Once we’d parked and walked up a lotta steps, we were met with the unmistakable sounds of ‘Rage Against the Machine’, and just below this noise, a tenacious busker struggling manfully on with his guitar.

We decided to visit the Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya (National Museum of Catalonian Art), which is famous for its Romanesque, Gothic, and modernist collection.

The first wing we entered boasted astonishing religious works from around the 15th century. I’m always intrigued by depictions of Mary and Jesus; in some Mary is insipid and barely concerned, in some she is the rounded mother figure, in some she is a haughty birthday girl showing off her best present. I swear that most renaissance artists had never once clapped eyes on a baby – in so many of their paintings they paint the baby Jesus like a man shrunk down to miniature, with a tiny head and skinny arms. If Jesus had looked like that as a newborn he would have never survived beyond toddler years, and a whole lot of trouble would have been avoided.

There were also a number of amusing ‘George and the Dragon’ depictions – in most the poor dragon looked little bigger than a pet dog, and appeared to seeth with as much killer instinct as a dishcloth. It made George look more like a pest exterminator than a hero; most likely the princess was just a bit of a wimp and any good flyswot would have done the job, without getting a Saint in.

But the modernist galleries were remarkable: beautiful furnishings and posters from the art nouveau era, including work by Mucha and Gaudi; Picasso’s figures; and some wondeful richly coloured realist work by Marià Fortuni, who was a bit obsessed with orientalist themes. Plus you were allowed to take photographs!

Skirted past an expensive touristy mohito stall (though I was gagging for a drink it was so hot and cloudless!) and took a leisurely drive back home past the botanical gardens. Back home, Alicia showed me how to make proper Paella! However the lesson was hampered by the fact that we started drinking the Sangria we’d made the night before, so my notes become increasingly less legible and dotted with more and more exclamation marks; but basically there are two golden rules – don’t touch the dish for 20 minutes once you’ve added in the rice, and never use chorizo!

We also whizzed together some super-size tomatos, a bit of onion, and cucumber, oil, salt and pepper, to make gazpacho, then took this up to the roof of their building to eat with olives, while we looked out far over the city. They have simply stunning view – flowing out from above Park Guell, right through main sites of Barcelona and out to the sea, encompassing the green mountains which roll around the city.

After eating a heavy plate of gorgeous paella – a rich mixture of subtle flavours – we gathered our bits and drove out to a beach outside the city (a bit closer than Sitges beach, which they love, but still far enough out so it wasn’t packed with people). Here Alicia and I waded out into the waves and swam – I always forget how very salty sea water is! Pleugh! Then tried to get as much of a tan as possible before heading to the airport.

Turned up at the airport still wet, wearing my swimming costume with a skirt and smelling of salt and Paella. Also Alicia had left me with the last of the Sangria, which was the perfect medicine against my nervy flying as, once combined with the paella and sun, it knocked me out for the entire flight! I think I’ll aim to make every flight home along similar lines.

Viva Barcelona! Day 2 (Saturday)

Woke at 8ish to the scent of rosemary. Fabien and Alicia had already been cooking lunch – meat flavoured with rosemary from the hills of Provence, where Febien’s family live.

Went with Alicia and Fabien up to their favourite cafe further up the mountain. Had cafe con leche (the Spanish favourite for breakfast) and Fabien had a second, stronger coffee, because he is French and they drink an astonishing amount of coffee. Next we visited the adjoining bakery where we bought croissants, chocolate strips, and mini glazed pastries, then up some steps to hang our feet over Alicia and Fabien’s favourite wall, which gazes far out across Barcelona and out to sea.

From here Fabien went to get shopping as Alicia and I had decided that we wanted to make Paella (well, I wanted to learn how to make it) and to make proper sangria. Meanwhile Alicia and I bent our energies to sorting out our paintings to take with us on the ‘Walking Gallery’ we were taking part in at 6pm. Lots of sticky-tape later I had arranged my four etchings of the couple on horse-back, which I’d squished into my hand luggage to get here, into a long strip supported by cardboard. Alicia had strung up a life-size nude female torso to hang around her neck (provocative!) and a painting of a pair of legs.

By 1 we were ready to head into town, and we walked down to catch the tube to see two of Gaudi’s most famous designs, Casa Battlo and La Pedrera, on the Passeig de Gracia. Casa Battlo has THE most stunning windows. It looks like a castle from the city of Atlantis. In fact many of Gaudi’s constructions look like they have floated up from the sea bed. It was too expensive to go in but it was beautiful from the outside. Also La Pedrera, not as stunning from street level but with awesome iron gates made to look like leaves of the palm tree.

As Alicia and I walked along we might have wished that we could travel down Barcelona’s streets at roof height, because that is where most of the city’s best beauty resides. A mixture of modernism and Moorish influence, carved stone and smooth ceramics. Also popped into Casa Amatller, which had a beautiful glass ceiling, and a wonderful dragon lamp.

Tried to have a look in the smaller, modern, art galleries along one of the roads off Pg de Gracia, but they were all closed, either for lunch or for the whole of Saturday afternoon. Weird! Most shops in Spain do close from 1pm – 4pm, which seems very odd!

One feature of the streets is the towers of balconies that are a feature of most buildings. Quite a lot are made use of in some beautiful or bizarre fashion – one building on the art gallery road had filled its balconies with lifesize papier mache figures, while in a balcony by the Dali museum there is a cardboard cut-out of Dali holding two whopping great fish gazing nonchalantly over the street.
Met Fabien at the Palau de la Musica Catalana, on Carrer de Sant Pere Mes Alt, which Alicia insisted was one of the attractions worth paying to explore. She was totally right. The building is squeezed out of the way in a narrow street, but leaps out from its boxy space with its vibrant colours and designs. Above the front entrance is a forest of pillars, decorated with patterns of tiles showing flowers and leaves.

While we waited for the tour to begin, we sat on some steps and ate the packed lunch Alicia had prepared – a spinach and tuna tart and gorgeous sandwich of meat and tomato, seasoned with oil that had been soaking with Provence rosemary for months.

Inside the Palau de la Musica Catalana the English language tour gathered with a guide who liked to drift into Spanish intermittently to keep us on our toes. The Palace was built between 1905 and 1908, and was funded mostly by the Orfeó Català choir and the middle class of the area, so there are no boxes for royalty or VIPs in the building.

The palace was designed by the architect Lluís Domènech i Montaner, in the modernist style, and is intended to make audiences feel as though they are in a forest or garden. Pillars and windows are decorated with flowers and leaves, while the ceiling of the concert hall is plumped out with red and white roses. These roses are a symbol of Catalonia, whose patron saint is Saint George.

Legend has it that Saint George saved a princess by killing a dragon, whose blood became a red rose, which George promptly handed to the girl (how handy!). This legend has inspired Catalonia to treat Saint George’s day as a second Valentine’s day – all the men have to give their ladies red roses. As it’s also national book day, the girls traditionally have to give their men a book in return. In modern times men have had to start giving a rose AND a book, so as not to neglect their lover’s intellect...

The dominant feature of the concert hall is a stunning stained glass window in the centre of the roof – it drops down in a bulbous sun burst and is intended to resemble a drop of water. Through this bright window, the room is flooded with daylight. Although the Palace was one of the first buildings in the area to be supplied with electricity, in its earlier days only matinee concerts would take place, so all music was enjoyed in daylight.

My favourite aspect of the room was the chandeliers strung from the pillars – the pillars are shaped to resemble palm trees, and the ring of glass lights hanging half way up resemble the fruit of the tree. Each ring is hung at an angle to provoke the sensation that there is a wind billowing out through the forest.

Met Alicia afterwards and we had a quick drink in another modernist-designed cafe, which is apparently where Picasso had one of his first exhibitions. From here we headed to the Dali museum where we had fun with a door which featured a Dali ‘tache. Inside were hundreds of prints, photographs, sculptures and even a miniature version of the crazy Falla that Dali designed for the Valencia fire festival, Las Fallas (the original Falla went up in smoke, as was intended, at the festival). I particularly loved the prints in which Dali had messed around with ink, creating swirls and dollops across the page, then with a fine ink pen had transformed them into suggestions of crowd gatherings, castles or landscapes.

A mad dash back to Placa de Catalunya at 6pm led us to the start of the ‘Walking Gallery’. About a dozen artists congregated with paintings ranging from a vibrant street scene, to a Jackson Pollock-esque bicycle, to a brown paper collage. From here we rambled along Las Ramblas, dodging tourists and fancy dressers, with most eyes falling on Alicia’s provocatively placed nude torso painting.

Many of the artists spoke English, including Pablo the Mexican who had created a beautiful Surrealist scene in oils that looked like rich brown velvet, and a German artist who had created the red, yellow, black and white street scene. However a couple did not speak any English, which provided me with the opportunity to stretch my GCSE Spanish to the max and attempt a conversation! I was surprised by how much I understood when I listened, and I could almost make myself understood in return, although there were several moments in which I realised I was saying an Italian or French word with a Spanish accent, and once an English word with an Italian town at the end. Still, they were very patient, and when it all got a bit much I just smiled and ran away to the back of the line.

We got the most attention when we stopped in a square near Jaume I metro and took a load of photos of our artwork next to the large black and white photos that had been erected showing Franco’s time in power. These photos had already been enthusiastically and imaginatively defaced, and when Alicia held the nude torso over Franco’s, this was met with general public approval.

Franco and his fascist government is of course anathema to the Spanish populous, but in Catalonia there is a particularly focused hatred. The Catalan language had been banned under Franco and they had suffered greatly under his rule. Today many Catalonians are fiercely proud of their heritage, and many want special freedoms from the rest of Spain. There is even talk of teaching only in Catalan, with the Spanish language not featured. Alicia told me that some people in Barcelona will insist on talking to you in Catalan, even if they know you don’t understand it. It seems to me that to use a language to restrict communication rather than to facilitate it is quite bizarre.

As we left the square we noticed a group beginning to dance the local dance – everyone stands in a circle holding hands above their heads and some complicated footwork takes place below. Pretty, but I prefer a bit of fiery flamenco.

After taking the weight off our feet and the dust from our throats with a cool beer, most of the artists dispersed and Alicia, Fabien and I were left with another artist, Magnolito Oliver, who only spoke Spanish. Still we had managed to keep up a conversation for a decent amount of time. Shared the tube with him where he invited me to join their artists collective and made me their UK representative (this was all made clear by Alicia’s translating).

We hopped off the tube at Gracia, met Alicia’s friend, and headed to a tapas bar, where we ordered local favourite pan con tomate, (bread and tomato), Spanish omelette, chorizo and bread, and I had a much needed coffee.

From here we headed to the gallery, which has got to be one of the most bohemian hang-outs in Barcelona. There is an illegal bar at the back, squished into a tiny broken old courtyard, and the gallery itself is a renovated garage owned by an English girl and a Spanish man.

Work by 6 different artists hung around the walls – a real mixture. Here we met Alicia old friend from Uni and his Argentian friend – a bubbly blonde girl who upset my notion that all Argentinians would be more tanned than Spanish people. After taking lots of silly photos with Alicia’s illicit picture we moved on to a bar where the two newcomers could grab a bite to eat (it was nearly 12pm).

We found a bar serving gorgeous chunky sandwiches and sat round while they ate. Alicia’s friend was hilarious – he was saying how he was constantly paranoid about death, whether by bear, psychopath, or shark, depending on his geographical location.

Although that couple were going on to a house party, we decided to head home as we had an early start. Got in and tried a drink that is like almond juice, apparently another instance of Arab influence in Spain.

We also had to make up the Sangria because apparently good Sangria has to ferment at least overnight. It’s a simple recipe: half cheap red wine to half juice (orange or pinapple or a mixture of anything citrusy); a good dollop of a white spirit (we used a mixture of Cava and white rum); whop in a bit of sugar; and cut in ripe juicy fruits like orange and peach. Keep testing it to get it to your ideal flavour, then chill it for at least one night so the flavours mix.

Finally got to bed at 2ish, totally knackered but very happy.

Viva Barcelona! Day 1 (Friday)

First stop on Friday morning was Parc Guell – my first real encounter with Gaudi’s crazy creations. Parc Guell was staggering! Gaudi designed everything and it has an overall sense of organic shapes – from balconies that echo the shapes of palm trees, to a smooth balcony that lolled around the park like an underwater plant covered in bright intricate mosaic. His buildings look like sandcastles, or chess pieces blown hugely big. I love the mixture of simple, flowing, organic forms and the bright complication of the tiles that adorn them.

More Gaudi feasting followed with the Sagrada Familia which I walked all around, then saw that the queue for tickets stretched half way round the circumference of the building, so I moved on! It's still a building site but the bits you can see are amazing - I particularly liked the Cubist figures. What's astounding about Gaudi is not only his mind but the fact that he was given the opportunity to realise his crazy ideas on such a huge scale!

I walked down Carrer de Mallorca to see Casa Macaya, but you could only see the facade and the inside seemed to be filled with builders who called me 'chica guapa' and gave me funny looks. The Arc de Triomf caught my eye in the distance, so I walked down (there is a weird bat figure carved in the stone!), then walked back up to Placa de Tetuan and a long the very busy and dusty Gran Via de Les Cortes Catalanes. I think I had the wrong idea about this area - apart from Barcelona's answer to the London Gerkin (the multi-coloured Torre Agbar), there's just a shopping centre (though the loos here were very welcome!). There was also the largely underwhelming Els Encantes flea market, where a scary guy called me 'idiota' for trying to take a photo :-P

By now I was dying so I struggled back across to the metro and got the tube to Catalunya. Gasping, I finally found the street Las Ramblas (a favourite attraction of the city) and stumbled to the nearest peaceful-ish cafe I could find. My favourite section along Las Ramblas is probably the Boqueria Market, which is under a shady roof and crammed with stalls bursting with fruit, veg, fish, meat, and some tapas bars. Here I became instantly addicted to the small cups of fresh juice sold by the fruit stalls (banana and coconut, mmm).

My biggest expense of the day was 12 euro suncream, which was required when I realised I'd turned a fetching shade of fushia pink.

Once I'd laquered myself in suncream I grabbed a beer then met Alicia from work. Had a bit of a wander up and down Las Ramblas – a street filled with weird spectacles – lots of people in fancy dress to have your photo taken with, flower girls, fairies, and two demons that looked like they might be the next career move of the band members of Lordi. Also stalls selling birds of paradise, lizards, flowers, wooden flowers, and food.

There were also stalls selling overpriced sangria – Alicia got very mad about this when I suggested that we might like to get some sangria. She says the restaurant sangria is massively overpriced and that in Spain it is normally only students who drink sangria because it is so cheap. You make it specifically with cheap red wine, add in juice and a white spirit, sugar, and fruit, and leave it to ferment at least overnight. The tourist restaurants just add juice to cheap red wine, pop in a slice of orange, and charge 15 euros a litre. This was a subject of great passion for her.

There are lots of buskers in Barcelona – on my way to meet Alicia I passed one group playing I think it was the ‘tequila’ song - and an old couple and a couple of old men were bopping along to the music in the centre of a crowd.

Met Alicia and Fabien at Jaume I and we immediately headed towards beer - most restaurants serve the local beer. After a glass of this gorgeous stuff at one of the outdoor stalls, we headed to one of their favourite restaurants. It opened at 8pm and we had to get there early because there was normally a huge queue – it’s very popular with the locals. Inside the door you are immediately met with a counter of fresh fish and seafood – seafood so fresh it made it living presence known by sometimes spilling out of its shell like a tongue sticking itself out at you (I didn’t select these ones to eat!)

We chose fried tiny squid, crab salad, tuna steak, and calamari rings, as well as a bottle of zesty white wine. I have to admit I was a bit daunted by the seafood (after my squeamish mussel incident) but the fried squid and calamari were delicious, especially with the aioli sauce, which is basically mayonnaise and garlic. After this we were totally stuffed, so we spilled out onto the warm Barcelona streets like slipping into a warm bath, and meandered around.

Fabien (who is himself a great fan and a bit of a practitioner of graffiti) says that Barcelona is famous for its graffiti. The city has several walls dedicated to graffiti art, and there is also a graffiti festival each year. We spotted lots dotted around the narrow, butter-yellow-lit streets. Some are on paper pasted onto walls and the metal doorways, some are painted or sprayed on directly, and also onto pillar boxes, dustbins - anything stationary. Fabien says there is more paper graffiti now, while the painted one is more traditional.

We wandered around the gothic area just off Las Ramblas – lots of people were also meandering around, and I noticed several icecream and coffee shops that I swear weren’t open in daylight hours. The streets were punctuated with romantic pockets of buskers – including one small square filled with the sweet sound of a man playing the harp. We headed to find Barcelona’s other favourite drink after the beer – super fresh mojito. We found a not-so-crowded bar and the waitress made us 3 drinks with heaps of fresh mint and limes from a bowl on the bar. It was so gorgeous and tangy!

Decided to save money and make more mojitos at home but in fact by the time the night bus had reached the area where they live – Gracia, above Park Guell, we were all super tired. (I keep saying ‘super something’ because that’s a favourite phrase of Alicia’s, and now it’s stuck in my head!) So we headed to bed at 1ish.