There was something surprisingly refreshing to walk out on a
tiny balcony with a container of profusely blooming red geraniums and place for
only a tiny table in a foreign city, with the morning’s first cup of coffee and
look down on the red tomatoes, the orange oranges and tangerines, the green lettuces
and celery and yellow apples in the small tienda
de productos frescos, fresh produce store, across the narrow Carrer de
Vallhonrat. It instantly brightened what
already looked like a perfect spring morning in Barcelona, Spain.
Carrer de Vallhonrat. El Poble-Sec, Barcelona
After coffee I ventured out into the narrow streets in
search of freshly baked croissants for breakfast. M was sleeping in;
recuperating from an allergy attack due to a sandwich that must have contained
red peppers on the Lufthansa flight from Frankfurt to Barcelona. It was just
after eight in the morning and the neighborhood streets of El Poble-Sec was
still mostly quiet except for building contractors that were clearing rubble
from an old building being remodeled. On the corner of the street a butcher
shop was already opened, the butcher preparing meatballs, and across from the
butcher on Carrer de l’Olivera a
fishmonger was placing fresh fish on ice. Further down the street a small supermarket
was still closed and across from it the fleca,
a bakery, had no croissants in their display window yet so I continued my wandering
down the street, found an open bar and through its windows I saw that it had
croissants on the counter but decided against it, the freshness possibly questionable.
On the next corner I found a small convenient-cum-produce store, the attendant behind
the counter totally absorbed in his smartphone and did not look up when I
entered. I bought some bottled water for coffee in the apartment. I retraced my
steps back to the bakery, still no fresh croissants visible, but I nevertheless
went inside, ask for four croissants, which they went to fetch from the kitchen
in the back, still hot and smelling buttery and toasty and headed back to the
apartment.
Barcelonan delicacies.
After breakfast we took a metro train to Liceu station and
emerged from underground into bright sunshine on the famous Las Ramblas, a tree-lined
street that cuts through the center of the city and where they sell anything
from flowers, tourist knickknacks, fridge magnets, and artwork, to books and
off course food. Barcelona’s outside-in Champs-Elysees due to the pedestrian
area in the middle of the street and cars driving on the outside of the
pedestrian walkway. We slowly followed the human river, tourists and locals
alike, westwards, passed the Erotic Museum where a faked Marilyn Monroe
look-alike, dressed all in white with black sunglasses, paraded on a balcony, a human advertisement and every now and then M stopped and browsed a
vendor stall, sometimes purchasing a small souvenir for someone back home, until the pedestrian
lane poured into the Plaça de Catalunya, a large square which is considered to
be the center of the city and together with Las Ramblas a popular destination
for some Barça football fans to celebrate championship wins or for Barcelonans
to gather in protest.
On the square we snapped some photos, rested under a shady
tree, crossed the Passeig de Gracia, rumored to be Spain’s most expensive
street, and then allowed ourselves to get totally lost in Barcelona’s Gothic
Quarter, the Barri Gotic. For the rest of the day until long after dark we
ambled along narrow medieval streets, some that rarely feel sunshine on their
cobbled surfaces. We were modern pilgrims, memory-moment hunters with light backpacks and digital cameras who ended up on large squares in front of
gigantic Gothic churches with hundreds of tourists or tiny plazas mostly devoid
of people except for old locals seeking a sunny spot. We came across quaint and
leafy courtyards with soothing water fountains and walked underneath intricately
decorated archways that link ancient buildings and along very old walls with
statuesque windows and doors from a time when builders were patient artisans and architects
cared to build beautiful buildings.
For a while we dawdled on the square in front of the Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint
Eulalia, drank in the atmosphere and grandeur of the 13th
Century buildings, then went inside and later onto the roof for beautiful views
of the city. After an excellent lunch and
superior table service at Taverna de
Bisbe on the square next to the Cathedral we went under ground in the Plaza
del Rei where we walked through the very modern glass reception hall of the
city’s History Museum (Museu d'Història de Barcelona, the MUHBA) and
stepped back nearly 2,000 years in time to explore buried Roman origins of
Barcino as Barcelona was known then. It was fascinating to see the remnants of old
Roman streets, a laundry where they washed and dyed clothes, the round vats for
winemaking still in the earth and many more interesting excavated artifacts.
Street scenes in and around the Barri Gotic
When we emerged from the museum the day’s last
golden sunlight was still lingering around and we went in search of the
remaining pieces of the old Roman walls that once surrounded the city. We found
a huge corner of the wall on a quaint little plaza where restaurant waiters
were arranging tables and chairs for the cocktail hour crowds. As twilight
descended glowing pools of light from tapas bars and general shops lightened
the darkening alleys, giving it the appearance of dappled sunlight in a jungle.
Our wandering continued until we found a cozy plaza with several restaurants
and we decided to rest our weary feet and had a tapas dinner al fresco under large umbrellas at El Paraigua’s while the sound of a live band playing Dave Brubeck style jazz spilled out from
one of the restaurants and filled the square.
Ticks of the bucket list: Gazpacho and Spanish omelet. M's foie gras was just as delicious.
A splendid end to a thoroughly entertaining day in the Gothic Quarter of the city. Barcelona, vibrant and beautiful, ancient and modern has become one of my new favorite cities.
Dinner on Plaça de Sant Miquel
Late night heading to the metro station on Las Ramblas
A city of statues
On Barcelona's Cathedral Square
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