An Angry Hum

Barcelona. Spain’s Catholic School Kid. Party’s like it’s the end of the world and still gets up for church.

First I should set the stage a little. Our visit to Barcelona was a two-parter. Obviously we wanted to see and explore Barcelona, but we were also there to celebrate Younger Son’s birthday. Our little group of five was to be joined by five of YS’s friends and roommates.

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H, J, and T are friends from Toledo. H is a past and future roommate at the U of M. S and C are studying in London for the semester and were coming down to celebrate. Younger Son met C in the dorms his freshman year and the two have been roommates ever since. S, C’s roommate in the dorms, is Younger Son’s Oldest Friend. Since kindergarten, YS and S have been friends and teammates. Full disclosure, S is the son of The Destroyer of Comfort Zones, and it’s through the boys that he and I met. As YS said to me once, at some point he and S stopped being friends and became brothers. They don’t always see eye-to-eye, just don’t try to come between them.

Anyway, we stepped off the train (my first high-speed train. I enjoyed playing euchre at 300km/h) and made our way to street level. We met up with S and C on the sidewalk, and after an excited and super huggy reunion (S, C, H, and YS hadn’t seen each other in two months after living together for three years), we made our way to our Airbnb.

There, on the street in front of the apartment we met Ana, our representative from the property company that owns it. She was very nice, very helpful, and the apartment was beautiful. Modern, clean, and again, perfectly situated. We got the tour of the place, dropped off our bags, and off we went to find some food and drink.

Barcelona is Spain’s second biggest city. With 4.3 million people, it’s the largest city in Spain’s autonomous region of Catalonia, and it’s the biggest city on the entire Mediterranean coast. With three days, we didn’t get to see much, but we were mostly interested in just the central part of the city (the neighborhoods of El Born, El Ribera, and La Rambla). We loved it, though the tourist cattle-chute of La Rambla, the long pedestrian-only street filled with tourists, chain stores and shitty souvenir stands I don’t need to see again. The center of Barcelona is a dichotomy. It’s core is old, with old buildings, old churches, and old, narrow streets. It’s surrounded by a modern metropolis with modern roads, buildings and infrastructure. I loved the vibe and the energy that created.

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The ten of us started walking toward the marina, about 6 blocks away. The only thing we’d decided is that we wanted a drink and a snack. But like most herds, there didn’t seem to be a discernible plan. We were almost to the end of the marina when S turned and asked me, “Where we headed Troy?”

I had no idea, but I was The Dad, so I guessed. Luckily, in Barcelona you’re never more than a body length away from a bar. I quickly scanned the four places within spitting distance. One was crowded with people wearing fanny packs and black socks, so…no. From another the only sign of life was the two servers listlessly chatting with one another just to stay awake. Also no. I pointed to one of the two remaining places and said to S, “You look in there, I’ll check out that place.”

That place had a pretty active bartender pouring drinks, a half full patio at 3 in the afternoon, and a table that’d seat 10 right by the window. Done and done. I waved everyone over.

So, Barcelona. I need to go back. It’s easy being a tourist there. The train system is outstanding, clean, and it’ll take you almost anywhere. From the center of the city, you could easily spend several days eating, drinking, and shopping.

It is however, the more expensive of the places you’ll go in Spain. Maybe the most expensive. It was not “expensive” however. Even with the US Dollar to Euro exchange rate, we never experienced any kind of sticker shock.

Have you heard of the Sagrada Familia? I didn’t know anything about it really either. It’s a church. When Brother told us he’d bought a ticket to tour it, and was soon catching the train I finally broke down and looked it up. I’d seen and read that it was the biggest tourist attraction in the city, I just didn’t understand why. It’s a church. Stand in front of any church in Spain and from there you can see ten churches. The place is lousy with them.

But this one’s different. It is sculpture writ large. It’s architect, Antoni Gaudí, was certainly crazy. But the Sagrada Familia is unbelievable. The attention to detail and the vision to execute it is amazing. And it is beautiful. And weird. If you go to Barcelona, and skip the Sagrada Familia, your trip was incomplete.

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Later on the first night, after the bar by the marina, it was time for Younger Son’s Birthday Dinner. We had paella. It was very good. I’m being a little cagey about it because I don’t know if it was authentically good. Normally, I’m a Food Is Like Art kind of guy. What I mean by that is I may not necessarily know if it’s Great Food, but I know what I like. And this paella was tasty, but I don’t think it was authentic or of the highest quality. I’ve read that truly great paella has a layer of socarrat, crispy rice from the bottom of the pan that adds an intense flavor and texture. Ours had none. And it was a White Tablecloth restaurant, and those aren’t usually my favorite. But the service was very good, the food was tasty, and the company was great.

Time for a bar. We ended up at one next door to the apartment, about 10 paces from the front door. It was called The Lennox, and it was an Irish Bar, and we were there on March 15. S, the son of The Destroyer, went straight to the bar and placed an order. He turned, holding two shot glasses about the size of highballs, and handed me one. “From my dad,” he said. So even from 5,000 miles away…

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eI loved Barcelona, and already, only two weeks later, wish I was back. It’s funny what sticks with you most. The second night there I found myself wandering the streets of the oldest part of Barcelona, alone, around 3am. It was misty and cool, very pleasant. There were a handful of other people walking the streets, heading home. The fog didn’t descend to the ground, but hovered around the street lights, creating an illusion of a soft, luminous roof. It muffled and deepened sounds, and gave me the impression that I had shrunk, and was walking around a perfectly made model of an old city.

Ah, then there was that crepe stand. My favorite place that weekend. Creps al Born. It had a little window in it’s store front where you could order a crepe to go. Inside however, was a lively cocktail bar, that served some of the best cocktails I’ve ever had.

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The next day we all went our separate ways. Brother rented a car and started wandering his way towards Portugal. Younger Son and H went back to Toledo, and S and C flew back to London. Older Son, She and I were headed back to Madrid for a night so OS could catch a plane home the next morning.

From Madrid, we were taking a train to Seville, renting a car and going to Granada…