Barcelona: La Rambla

Our first time in Barcelona.

This has been a long time coming, especially for me and my obsession with Gaudi; despite the number of books I have been given, I have never really seen any Gaudi except a wrought-iron altar piece in a monastery in Mallorca. This all stemmed from a course I did in Edinburgh on the History of Architecture based on the book by Nicholas Pevsner. It was the photos in the book and the intellectual idea that a building could be constructed without any straight-lines that conjoured up something magical. That all seems so weird when I write it down now but a fascination for Gaudi (and Pugin too) have persisted all these years. Anyway, Gaudi would have to wait...

Arrived in the middle of November from a dark and dismal Irish autumn to a warm and equable Spanish autumn; at first almost too warm. After a long trek getting lost a couple of times on Barcelona metro, we decamped at Placa de Catalunya. What an introduction to Barcelona. At our back the fountains in the park and around us a huge square heaving with people enjoying a mild Sunday afternoon. After figuring where we wanted to be, we foolishly set off walking up the hill, trailing our bags towards our pension. Foolishly because we could have jumped 2 metros stops to avoid the exhausting hill climb. Still, instead we got to ease ourselves into the Barcelona vibe so by the time we had settled in, unpacked and resurfaced again, we were already relaxed and home seemed a lifetime away.

La Rambla Market

We were perched above the old city in what turned out to be a very up-market part of the town though our pension was anything but well-to-do, it was barely cheap-n-cheerful. At an intersection of part of the grid patterned layout of the city, a broad boulevard led down the hill. Beside us was a decadent cafe that majored in glorious pastries, cakes, buns, bonbons - even the word patisserie barely does the place justice. And it spilled into the street with a cluster of tables and chairs in the centre of the boulevard (two lanes of traffic on either side of a wide pedestrian area, just like La Rambla below).

We wandered around for a bit finding the metro stops we should have come to and headed back to Placa de Catalunya at the head of La Rambla

Art Nouveau Shopfront

It was still warm in the late afternoon as we dandered down La Rambla almost with our chins bouncing off the floor. The crowd of promenaders was just perfect - not too many as I am sure it is during the summertime. We passed tapas bars displaying their wares on heaped plates for gorgeous looking foods. Well concealed ancient churches quietly doing their thing midst the bustle. There were glorious art nouveau facades galore and a few shops with spectacular windows.  We even found a flamenco establishment adorned with extravagant Moorish mosaic tiling. We discovered too the city food market - open 7 days a week - with extraordinary displays of fish, raw meats, vegetables, spices, cheeses, sausages and a smattering of fast-food outlets seemingly offering cooked versions of everything else that was on sale either as tapas or regular main dishes. The smells and colours and sounds were amazing.

Entrance to Flamenco Studio

Somehow we found ourselves off the main drag arriving in a square hosting the old city cathedral. Surprisingly we did not go in, just sitting in the open space below the church steps was enough, we were already overloaded with sensations. Watching street pedlars do their thing and statuesque mime artists teasing and posing with the tourists. And even just marvelling at the eclectic architectural periods and styles clambering over one another from the clerical to commercial to vernacular all humming with a rather laid-back and relaxed life. Goodness we had not expected this.

As an early dusk descended followed quickly by night, the square quietened though coloured lights and activity from pavement cafes and street bars suggested it might be time to eat. There were too many choices in this city, it would come down to where we happened to be standing when the hunger pangs spoke loudest. This evening it was Taverna del Bisbe. Goodness this was an experience in itself; the decor full-on art nouveau with bent-wood chairs by a window watching the world go by listening to German, French, Spanish, Catalan voices swirl around us. A selection of tapas arrived along with some wine and Tio Pepe. We really lucked out here, some spiced potatoes and a few other common dishes but the star attraction was a serving of hot mini-chorizo sausages with black-pudding; the pudding, in the  local style, had a hint of anise which lifted the whole dish into the stratosphere - well for us anyway. It was so good we went back a couple of nights later to confirm its goodness and research the ingredients to buy in the market before we left. We have not managed yet to recreate the anise kick that worked so well but we will keep trying.