friday = best flight ever day.
lamb + goat cheese sandwiches, red wine, and chocolate creme cookies. thank you KLM.
we emerged from the danky depths of the metro (‘renfre’) and slowly rose to the level of Passeig de Gracia. a breathtaking [and slightly wobbly, due to airplane wine] vision of wide, tree-lined avenue warmth! i took my jacket and socks off and twirled around. we were definitely not in denmark anymore…
after roger and i meandered around a couple more Eixample streets [that widen at intersections and have cut-off corners, making an octagon-type shape that sort of ‘celebrates’ the intersection and also forces pedestrians to skooch off to the right side if they want to cross], we ended the night with tapas [grilled garlic cod, bread topped with tomatoes, + another delectable fishy dish], and of course, sangria.
saturday = feet day.
what a surprise to find that our hostel was twenty skips away from gaudi’s Casa Batlló!
roger insisted on galloping all the way to Plaça d’Espanya so he could sign in for the marathon and snatch a highly-coveted size S t-shirt. at the runner’s expo, i felt extremely vigorous and athletic by association. another vigorous-looking person even gave me a powerbar sample.
we walked all the way back towards catalunya, and encountered many fascinating affairs along the way: two raucous food markets, pleasant triangular garden plots punctuated by playgrounds, a bird woman cuddling up to and whispering to a fine-feathered friend. and countless ‘street entertainers’ drowning in spray paint — such as the jilted goth bride with raven, the ever-popular gold metallic winged Maleficent, and leafy fruit tree woman. initially shocked and soon bored, roger refused to look at them after about two blocks, and adopted a no-peripheral vision policy along La Rambla. (which may have been a factor in the near-successful pickpocketing of my eyelash curler in my backpack the following night.)
it was soon evident that roger and i were captivated by different things. i, by alluringly cheap spanish clothing vendors, narrow, laundry-laden alleyways, and any waft of paella; and roger, by spiral earring spacers, curiosity shops, and the puzzling photographs and life stories of argentinian nomads. it worked well together.
sunday = ISFP day. [introverted sensing feeling perceiving]
roger ran a marathon while i snoozed at the hostel. he also wrote me an excessive note of what i was supposed pack and bring for him at the end of his run. among the items listed: socks, shoes, new cardigan, 2 oranges, my brain, and a sunny disposition.
we went our separate ways in the afternoon. i went to the MACBA (museu d’art contemporani de barcelona) — and when i turned the corner and saw massive planes of glass and overwhelming whiteness, i thought to myself, why hello mister Richard Meier.
other places of note: Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya, the Montjuïc area, mies van de rohe’s barcelona pavilion!, parc joan miro, the old city/ciutat vella: el raval, barri gotic regions — the most perfect street layout for ‘discovery-making’ that i have ever experienced.
monday = power day.
7.30am wake up. 8.00 breakfast. 8.30 leave hostel. 9.00 la pedrera. 10.00 leave for parc guell. 10.30 walk steep path to parc guell. 11.00 sit/people-watch amongst the teacups. 12.00 play in parc. 12.30 leave to gather belongings from hostel. 1.00 get on the wrong renfre away from the airport. 1.30 fix our mistake, get on the correct renfre, scamper to the airport. 2.00 check in for flight. 3.00 drink wine and fly away back to copenhagen.
the weekend in more pictures:
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Tags: architecture, cities, travel