Well, hola, Europe!
So nice to finally meet you!
Seriously, what better way to end my travel cold-streak AND see “The Europe” for the first time than visiting beautiful, BEAUTIFUL Barcelona!
As with many people, Barcelona entered – and forever stayed in – my consciousness through the 1992 Olympics. I vividly remember the overhead images of the Dream Team’s bus winding through the gorgeous Barcelona streets, the first-ever diving competition held outdoors against a panoramic city backdrop, the lighting of the Olympic torch with a flaming arrow shooting through a clear night sky.
All I could think then was “Good Lord, what a beautiful, creative, confident city.”
(that, and “Good Lord, they lit that thing with a freakin’ flaming arrow!”)
From the looks of it, Barcelona has only gotten better since. Maybe even better than any other city.
See, other metropolitans have big pockets of interest here and there, but generally still dull or decay as you head maybe five blocks in any direction. If you walk down the street in those places, you know the exact moment when you think “Eh, looks like more of the same, I’ll turn around and head back now.”
With Barcelona, you’ll never, EVER want to turn around. You’ll just want to keep on going and going and going. Every alley will seem like an art exhibit, every road a precious discovery, every neighborhood a reason to applaud.
Barcelona also has a nice balance about it. Both mountain-tops and beaches are arms-length of the city-center; scattered skyscrapers seamlessly integrate into homey districts; history regularly meets up with the hip.
And it does all of this without “in-your-face/let me tell you exactly why we’re great/if you don't like us, you've got a problem” attitude from the locals. They already know their city is beautiful, so they just stand back and let others appreciate it for themselves. Hindi sila insecure.
Simply stated, the whole place is just flat-out, comprehensively cool.
Bravo, Barcelona. Bravo.
The Work
First things first, we had some important official business to attend to. We started off with a meeting at the Parliament building, a pretty, visitor-friendly place. The surrounding park/lagoon/playground went right up to the building's doorstep, and inside were some of the finest interiors I've ever seen. My Spanish-speaking batchmate "Siouxsie" (above) was obviously overwhelmed by the experience (that, or she's still upset we had to cut her lunch short).
Next day, we open the new Philippine Consulate General, on Independence Day no less. The event was very well attended, and the Consulate was in fine form and - in Siouxsie's words, I swear, not mine - looked right out of the Bourne trilogy, complete with . . .
. . . picturesque escape window and scenic street getaway for when the authorities try to arrest me...er...Jason.
Prominently displayed in the new Consulate is a bust of Jose Rizal, which many people said bears a resemblance to a junior officer back home (right) who likes to call himself...sigh..."Sexy" Teng.
The junior officers and staff get hungry after the reception at the Consulate (only cocktail fare was served at the event, and most of our time was spent attending to our principals and guests), so Siouxsie is dispatched to buy sandwiches at the nearest gas station convenience store. In full Filipiniana. But of course.
Las Ramblas
Las Ramblas is the lively must-see/must-walk strip of Barcelona. It stretches more than a kilometer long, with trees, hotels, shops and restaurants lining the whole way. Endlessly enjoyable, even if our guides kept on warning us about pickpockets (joke's on you, senyor carterista; I only had gas station sandwiches on me).
If you find Las Ramblas too crowded/touristy, you can explore the countless backstreets and alleyways that branch out from the main drag. Every corner you turn brings out even more points of interest, fascination and intrigue (Euro-poser at bottom right included).
Meanwhile, back at the boulevard, "Living Statutes" (think those creepy painted guys at the Eastwood Cinema lobby) swarm the area, each begging for their own "craption". Let's try one for the picture above, shall we:...ahem..."After winning the million dollars on 'Survivor', Parvati found she could afford to stage even the freakiest of her fantasies"
Submit a craption for each "Living Statue"! Best entry wins a bocadillo!
Mind you, the performers take their work very seriously. Right after I took this picture - and failed to drop a coin in the cup - the guy called me out in public and gave me "the-hand-gesture-recognized-'round-the-world".
The old-school hotels that line the strip edge all the way up to the main pedestrian lane. So if the room you book is just on the second floor...and your bedroom opens up into the balcony which opens up into the boulevard below...and you're a bunch of college students out to discover the world and find yourselves......I'm gonna stop now.
Finally, as we're about to leave, we round a bend and run into....Street Opera! Around half-a-dozen singers performing their hearts out in the shadow of the city cathedral. Take that, Times Square Naked Cowboy!
Montserrat
The city-center of Barcelona was perfectfly unique and beautiful on its own. But it didn't want to stop there. Oh, no. It had to throw in an impossibly gorgeous monk's abbey carved out of distinctively pink jagged mountains visited by holy apparitions overlooking the entire Catalan region. Why? Because Barcelona could, that's why.
Need I say it? A first-ballot NFW site (although the only one with an extensive gift shop and tour guide zipping around on a Segway).
Towering above the church entrance are these amazing sculptures of (I think) Jesus and the Apostles. This is an appropriate time to tag Barcelona as my first Stiff-neck city, i.e., I willingly strain myself staring upwards for extensive periods of time to get a good look at all the beauty above me. I need Salompas afterwards, but it's totally worth it.
The famous Lady herself.
Feliz Cumpleanos to me...to the LLDDL...to the Republic...to my big three nephews...to Garfield the Cat...
Tibidabo
Directly overlooking the city (like "Tops" to Cebu city, or the original Padi's Point to Manila) is Tibidabo. Great name, better backstory: legend has it, this is the place where the Devil brought Jesus to be tempted, offering all of the kingdoms below and their glories. Tibidabo, said the Devil. Latin for "I will give to you".
Tempting indeed.
Montjuic
On the opposite end of Barcelona is Montjuic, or Hill of the Jews. A perfect example of Barcelona's balance, the area is home to, among others, both the Olympic complex and the National Museum of Art of Catalonia / Palau Nacional; both profound religious exhibits and explosive car racing; both commanding views of the harbor on one side . . .
...and panoramic views of the city on the other (Tibidabo is that speck in the center picture mountain background; somehow, it's just under 30 minutes away by car).
Down the hill a bit is Pueblo Espanya, a sort of Nayong Pilipino complex showcasing the different regions of Spain. The placed was a bit too "made-just-for-tourists" for me, and seemed unnecessary for a city as organically beautiful as Barcelona. On the other hand, who am I to complain about a place with exotic dancing rehearsals?
The Spanish Food
Or, as they call it here, "food".
I actually had tempered expectations, given the familiarity between Filipino and Spanish cuisines. Boy, was I wrong. Food really does taste better with a home court advantage. Above is a historic restaurant called Carocoles, just off Las Ramblas in one of the alleyways. It's a sign of confidence that a restaurant would name itself after the Spanish word for "Snails."
At Carocoles, it's recommended you try the entrecote - a big, salty steak - for your main dish, and (from left to right) the Crema Catalan (like creme brulee), the cafe con leche (like capuccino), and the carocoles buns (like Princess Leia's hair) for after.
Elsewhere, I suggest the churros con chocolate at this Cervezaria somewhere in Barrio Gotic (unless, obviously, you're on your first date) . . .
...and the orxato - a sweet, milky, nut-based drink - at Montjuic. So tasty, I seriously considered licking it off my arm after I spilled some of it on me.
Now, this Antoni Gaudi fellow...
What the . . . ?
Seriously, man, what’s up with those…those?!? You got some wild, genius, stunning, confusing, breathtaking, thought-provoking, unsettling, frenzied, modern, stiff-neck inducing, freakin’ awesome stuff going on.
And where’d you find the time? Your pieces are like everywhere! And with all that detail! Was there Red Bull back then? I mean, jeez…
I’ll be seeing you in my dreams.
Sagrada Familia, Gaudi’s unfinished masterpiece. The moment I first saw the place, I immediately texted the LLDDL back home – time difference and roaming charges be damned – just to tell her “ang ganda na weird na ewan” (hardly Hemingway, I know, but that’s Gaudi’s effect on you; you just have no idea what to say)
I'm pretty sure George Lucas borrowed some of the church’s interior designs for one of his planets
If you look closely at the church’s façade, you’ll see hundreds of beautiful detailed sculptures and artworks. You may even be lulled into a state of peace and serenity . . .
. . . and then – aiiigh!!! – you pull back for a larger view. I honestly didn’t notice until I saw the pictures on the PC, but the bottom of the church looks like half-faces of eerie spirits howling something like “I’m meeelllllltttiiiiiiinnnggg!!!!”
(shudder)
Park Guell. Home to hundreds of Gaudi mosaics. A much happier place, but still freaky. A Senior Officer suggests Walt Disney stole from Gaudi. Let's see, Disney inspired Sleeping Beauty’s Castle and Hippos in Tutus. Gaudi had Sagrada and …
. . .Mosaic boy?
Let the Debate begin!
Me, I’ll still be in bed with the curtains drawn. In the fetal position.
