Highlights-Barcelona Day 2
I visited La Sagrada Família Basilica. Designed by Antoni Gaudí and those that came after him, it has been under construction for more than 140 years. Afterward, I had the longest walk between two metro stations ever (construction). After lunching on sashimi (very fresh here), I walked around the Barri Gòtic and Plaça de Sant Jaume. It was a re-familiarization tour.
Don’t do this
The tourist gape
Notable Items
My first action of the day was to have a café con leche and a pastry. There is a 365 bakery (a chain) squeezed in the alley between Middle Eastern fruit and vegetable stores and fast food closets (so tiny). It is only a short walk from the apartment.
The inside is narrow and there aren’t many tables. It doesn’t have the widest assortment of baked goods (nothing wrapped in cellophane, however). The chairs make my rear areas go numb after 20 minutes.
I like to go because of how it feels to be there. The ladies behind the counter are super fast at serving customers, making the coffee, and keeping things moving behind the counter. A woman behind the baked goods cabinet asked me rapidly what I wanted. I hesitated (I understood her, but I didn’t know what I wanted). She started speaking English (ugh, so much for trying to blend in). When I asked, she smiled and switched back to Spanish.
Coffee in Spain feels special. You order a café con leche, literally “coffee with milk.” No one ever asks What size? What you get is 60ml of espresso (i.e., a double shot) in a ceramic cup with a saucer, a packet of sugar, and a teaspoon. In cafés and bakeries like 365, the cup and saucer are put in front of you, either at the counter or your table. The person who made it (they’re not called baristas in Spain, they’re just the person who works there) pours an equal amount of steamed milk into the espresso in front of you. They often do this with a precise wiggling motion that mixes the two liquids and leaves a very slight, light-brown foam on the top. Pinball wizards don’t have such supple wrists.
I’ve had lattes in many countries (don’t order a café con leche in Mexico, you get drip coffee and milk). Coffee in Spain is special and not for the tourists. It’s just how coffee is done there.
The 365 bakery is on a corner. I like to sit near the register, in one of those uncomfortable chairs positioned along the opposite wall, observing the ladies behind the counter and the steady flow of customers, baked goods, and coffee. Tourists come (they usually order in English), but most of the clientele consists of locals on their way to work (many characters among them).
From my seat by the window, I had a good view of two women in visibility green coveralls (that can be seen from Mars) in the alley. They were blasting the alley with water. The El Raval neighborhood would become uninhabitable in days if its streets weren’t power washed frequently.
Today’s mission was to visit La Sagrada Família (I had advance tickets, essential). I was in adventure mode so I planned to take the bus. It wasn’t that adventurous: one route, no changes. I waited at a stop near the apartment with several other people until a woman walked by saying something like there was a blockage or problem several blocks away. I didn’t understand much of what she said, but enough to know that I would miss my 11am entry if I kept waiting. Adventure postponed, I walked to the Metro. The Metro isn’t adventurous (unless you count using the ticket machines).
Sagrada Família security is stricter than airports. I thought it was interesting that there was a man managing the lines for the two scanners, but I was busted for trying to photograph him as he worked. I had to take everything out of my pockets, and some things like my watch and mobile phone couldn’t remain in jacket pockets.
I won’t describe my visit (many videos online do that better than my words would), but I did learn a few things:
The figure of Christ is suspended from the roof by a structure called a baldachin (who knew?).
I had to remove my hat touring the museum in the basement since under the basilica was considered in the basilica.
In 2010, it was consecrated as a minor basilica by the Pope.
The icon on each tower for the evangelists is called a Tetramorph.
I surmised that there must be regular cleaning of the basilica’s façades (more water blasting). Some statues still had pigeon droppings as hair tint, but it would be worse without cleaning. There must be a lot of activity overnight.
Two further observations:
Few other religious structures in the world have the natural light and color (orange, blue, green from the stained-glass). This was part of Gaudí’s vision.
There are signs everywhere telling visitors to keep quiet (to permit religious reflection), but that doesn’t seem possible with all the guided tours as well as the periodic, amplified announcements about keeping quiet (ironic).
After emerging from the facility at 2pm (I did a lot of reflecting), I came over all peckish (Come again? Esurient. You know, ‘hungry-like.’).
I was looking for a nearby post-visit lunch site where I could see the cathedral slightly less covered by scaffolding and plastic (it’s a work in progress). That was the image I had in my head. It came from a prior visit to the Monastery of Saint Mary of Guadalupe. Not the scaffolding, but being able to sit outside at a table while admiring the monastery façade. The reality here was different. I had my choice of McDonald’s, Taco Bell, and souvenir shops.
I had a flash of insight (this is why my wife occasionally gives me extra space in public to avoid injury). “Why not take the Metro to the Barri Gòtic?” After many previous visits to Barcelona, I had become familiar with the neighborhood. It has many more appealing restaurants, even if they lack views of La Sagrada Família (I could look at a postcard while I ate).
The reality of my Metro journey was also different from what I imagined. On the way to the station Jaume I, at the boundary between Barri Gòtic and El Born neighborhoods, there was a detour when I changed lines. A loooooooong detour that required me to exit the station. Exit the station? Who does that when switching Metro lines? When I saw the stairs up and out of the station, I had an out of Metro experience (like out of body, but with traffic). I reversed course until I confirmed, yes, that’s where the arrows go. I had to put the “you’re not supposed to be doing this” feeling behind and surface to street level. Then I walked three blocks before going back down to Metro level. I was almost in Madrid by then. The yakitori and sashimi I had at Maturi were worth the detour, however.
I stopped later for gelato at Gelaaati DI MARCO. As I was considering what to have among a dizzying array of flavors, a clerk asked where I was from, first in English and then in Spanish after I asked for the change. When she asked if I were on holiday, I gave her my standard reply to that question, “Not really. I’m a sociologist and I study people. Every trip is an opportunity to do that.” My gelato (not “gelaaato”) flavor choice was dragon fruit. It had so much food coloring that I was surprised that I wasn’t glowing when I finished (maybe it was a delayed effect).
I returned to the apartment to work on projects like this one. I ventured forth at 9pm for sustenance. I had a chili dog at The Dog is Hot (catchy). Sometimes, tautology is good marketing. I chose it because it was close to the apartment. I ate it there and it was still hot.