La Boqueria, the Hell of a Million Steps and a Night on Jew Mountain
Well, the first 2 days of the trip are out of the way and they have been adventurous to say the least. After traveling for 21 hours on Wednesday/Thursday, we touched down in a balmy Barcelona. A short taxi ride later, we arrived at the Eurostars Grand Marina hotel at about 11am. Which would have been great if our room had been ready, but check-in wasn't until 3pm. This probably would not have been a problem if I had actually heeded my own advice and taken an Advil PM in Newark before getting on the plane. But I didn't and the allure of watching movies the whole time was too much. Not that I could have fallen asleep since I rode bitch on the way over and had to try and make myself tiny the whole way. Let's just say it ain't easy making THIS tiny.
So after a triple-feature of Green Zone, Iron Man 2 and X-Men, there we were at the hotel, looking like something from the latest George Romero feature and wanting to find a place to hang out. For 4 hours. Luckily, the hotel is nice and we camped out on a cushy red couch near the bar where Les surfed on her iPad and I proceeded to fall asleep. Until I would be periodically elbowed and/or kicked by my wife, who asserted I was snoring so loud, it could be heard over the piano music from the bar. Luckily, the room was ready by 1-ish and we were able to check in and crash until it was time for dinner. We woke up about 10, ordered some damn expensive room service, ate and went back to sleep. Exciting Day 1, huh?
We met Day 2 with a vengeance and were determined to get our money's worth. We cruised on down to the free breakfast buffet and loaded up on a variety of tasty treats, including... Jamon! It had been too long since having this tasty treat and I was feeling good.
After breakfast, we took a sweaty stroll down La Rambla (the main thoroughfare in Barcelona) until we arrived at my version of Disneyland, La Mercat de Boqueria. This place was a farmer's market on steroids, HGH and jet fuel. There were literally hundreds of stalls with the most amazing produce, meats, fish, oils, eggs - you name it, they have it. I won't be able to do it justice here, but we took a ton of pictures, which we'll upload once back in the states. And the freshness - wow. Every kind of fish you could think of, all just plucked from the sea. Each of the fish monger stalls had a crustacean wrangler on hand in order to keep the crabs and lobster on the ice. I was cursing myself for having eaten at the hotel because there were all these tapas bars and food stands all throughout the market that were making AMAZING looking food. But between having just stuffed myself silly and the heat, the last thing I could do was start eating again. The haul we took in was pretty fantastic - everything from Spanish olive oil to saffron to the tastiest package of Belotta Iberian ham I have ever tasted. You see, for those ham enthusiasts out there, (I know you're reading this) there are 3 levels of Iberian ham and Belotta is the zenith of the ham world. These Spanish pigs get to wander around Spanish forests and eat nothing but Spanish acorns until their Spanish masters murder them for their tasty, tasty flesh. I gave much thanks for the bounty I received. Meat IS murder. Tasty, tasty murder. Oh, and let's not forget my wife's little visit to the candy shop. Not only was she successful at finding a special request candy for a friend of hers from work who used to live here, but she loaded up on some sweets for herself. 35 Euros later (about $50), we were on our way. I think the whole time she was filling her bags, she had Gene Wilder singing "If You Want to View Paradise" in her head. I wasn't sure, but I think I saw a glint of Veruca Salt in her eyes. Wouldn't be the first time...
After bringing our haul back to the room and hosing ourselves off, the wife asks me if I would like to head out to see Parc Guiell. I ask what that is and how we get there. She tells me it is was Gaudi's idea for a master-planned community and is now an artistic masterpiece and all we need to do is hop on the metro and we're there, so I say "OK". Now, if you're asking yourself how do you pronounce "Guiell", the "U" and the "I" are silent, so you could say it rhymes with "Hell". And what a coincidence, but the hop, skip and a jump over to Park Hell was just as hot as the valley of fire and brimstone. You see, we got off the metro and started walking in the direction of the park. And we walked. And walked. And walked. And when we got to our turn, guess what we did next? If you guessed "walked UPHILL", winner-winner, chicken dinner. Literally, it was 91 degrees and over 90% humidity with a dew point north of 75 degrees. I am convinced that my wife has grown tired of me and was doing her best to give me a heart attack and collect the life insurance.
So after scaling the Spanish Matterhorn, we arrived at Park Hell. And guess what they have at Park Hell? Stairs. Steps. Inclines. This had gone from Park Hell to the Chinese Hell of a Million Steps. After walking around for about another hour as I proceeded to melt into my shoes, someone in our party of two realized this was not as neat-o as they thought it would be and saved me the trouble of cursing her by proceeding to curse herself. She must have noticed I needed the oxygen.
Back at the room, we went in for yet another hosing down and a nap. Upon reflection, copious amounts of cerveza would have been nice at this point and I regret not thinking of it at the time. After arising from our naps, Les asks me if I would like to venture out again to Montjuic. With a raised eyebrow, I asked her what exactly I could expect on Jew Mountain. "They have a fountain." Oh. A fountain, huh? And, how do we get there honey? "Oh, we just grab the metro and we're there." Where have I heard this before? And worse yet, why am I the moron who believes her?
So after a 20 minute walk to get to the metro station, we hop in the funiculare and travel up the side of Jew mountain and start walking. And walking. And walking. At least I have the benefit of nightfall now and am not worrying about burning to a crisp or spontaneously combusting. So after about another 30 minutes, we arrive. Now I have to say, this place was worth the price of admission. It was stunningly beautiful. There was essentially a palace at the top of the mountain and a series of fountains led you down the hillside with the focal point being in the middle where they hold choreographed light and water shows with music. Think Bellagio in Vegas, but old school. It was pretty fantastic and there were thousands of people out enjoying Friday evening in Barcelona. At this point, I'm thinking this could be a pretty cool place to live. That opinion would soon change.
After having made our way down the mountain, I told my beloved there was no way we were going back up, so we needed to head down to the metro station to catch the next train back to the hotel. And here is where the REAL problem begins. As we were traversing the underground to our stop, I became acutely aware that all of a sudden, I had a number of individuals around me, not respecting the personal space. And before you know it, I feel a hand creeping into my right pocket where my phone and camera are. I spin around immediately with a cocked fist ready to go when the little shit pickpocket behind me covers his face and proceeds to mumble "Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" As she was in front of me, Les turns around and asks what's happening and I exclaim loudly "Fucking pickpocket piece of shit!" and point at the offender. He and his crew of about 4 other guys head the other way as I rue the fact that I didn't break his nose and send him reeling down the stairs.
Fuming, we got to our station and awaited the train. As the train arrives and the doors open, there is some sort of mad dash into the car and I find myself again surrounded by another 4 guys who figure they are just going to crowd me and start rifling through my pockets. With a loud "what the fuck" I body up 2 of them and they realize the jig is up and get off the car as the doors close. While Barcelona is somewhat known for pickpockets, from what I understand, they aren't as notorious as Rome. So having passed the Spanish version without any losses, I'll need to make sure everything is chained to my person for the rest of the trip.
So there you have it - our first 2 days of the trip and I can't say they were boring. It's coming up on 1am and the wife is snoring away in bed, so I suppose I better post this and hit the hay myself. Got a ship to catch in the morning.
