Barcelona June 3 - June 11: Paella, Estrella, and Pata Negra

It's often repeated that the rain in Spain stays mainly on the plain. On touching down in Barcelona from an unseasonably freezing Finland, we found this statement to be an exaggeration. The rain was clearly not limited to the plain and was demonstrating it's freedom of movement around the entire Iberian peninsula by torrenting down in buckets here at the coast. This is a little bit disturbing for us, because this part of our trip is supposed to be purely holiday. We've been here before (in 2007) so we've seen most of the sites and are looking forward to spending most of our time doing as little as possible, preferably on the beach. This is in large part thanks to Tiina & Jari, Sini's sister and brother-in-law, who live here and have booked a house in Casteldefels, a pirates' spitting distance of the warm Mediterranean sea.

Fortunately, the rain needed only this day to make it's point, and promptly moved on to another parade somewhere else (probably on the 'plain'), giving us a beautiful week of mostly sunshine and great beach weather.  Which we will capitalise on.

Casteldefels is a 20 minute taxi ride from the airport (which is called El Prat - we guess because of all the British tourists that come through here), but takes us a bit longer because none of us have the correct address. We all have different parts of it, and unfortunately because our group (which includes Hannu & Lea and Saija & Michi) is split across two taxis, we wind up on opposite sides of the town. Also, we have no means of contacting each other due to cell network issues. We manage to contact Tiina, who fortunately speaks Catalan (more on that in a moment) well, and by means of an extended game of broken telephones is able to coordinate the taxi drivers well enough to get us to where we need to be, where she is waiting for us.  And the relaxing can now begin.

Another reason that the rain does not obey Spanish rain rules is possibly because Barcelona does not consider itself part of Spain. Here, they believe themselves to be independent Catalonia, and underscore this belief by having all of their signs printed in both Catalan and Spanish, but with the Spanish appearing *slightly* though noticeably smaller, and always beneath the Catalan. So, while many other countries deign to have English appear alongside the local language at least on important signs like 'Emergency Exit' or 'Danger: High Voltage' or 'Certain Death This Way', that is not the case here. The exception is a hand-painted message we saw on the roof of an anarchists' house visible from the Gaudi gardens, which appeared only in English: 'If it's called tourist season, how come we can't shoot them?'

Sitges has become a favourite place of mine. It's 15 minutes by train from Casteldefels - maybe 45 minutes from Barcelona central station - south along the coast. We spent a day here last time, but that was mid-winter and now it's June, and although the day has started misty and slightly overcast, the beach is packed in certain anticipation of the sun, which fortunately doesn't wait very long to show up. The streets are narrow and cobbled, the stone walls are aged -sometimes whitewashed - and the elderly Church of St Bartolomeu presides. It feels Mediterranean. While the rest of the family departs shortly after lunch, I decided to stay on for the rest of the afternoon to take photographs and wander aimlessly around.

There is nothing better for a man than to eat, drink, and see good for all his hard work...and then eat and drink some more. And then, dessert. Barcelona gets this. For me, food provides the strongest definition of a culture, and in Barcelona we have sampled seafood paella, paella negra (paella blackened with squid ink), varieties of jamón (smoked ham) and cuts of beef and herbed pork, spitted rabbit, gazpacho and...usually washed down with Estrella Damm - the local default beer (above average, rich taste, slightly darker than a standard lager - good), or a shared bottle of Pata Negra or sangria. During the week, most restaurants run a two plate special, which includes two plates of your choice, a dessert and a beer, for around an average of EUR10. For Europe, these are good prices.  I like very much the common practice here of buying an entire leg of smoked ham, then using a thin cheese slicer to 'shave' slices off every day. Every block in the city has a butchery and a bakery (or two), and there's something about nipping out to pick up a loaf of freshly baked bread every morning that appeals to me. 

The days spent on the beach are perfect.  The sun is not too strong, it’s not too warm, and not too crowded. The tourist season only hits next month and the Spaniards have not kicked themselves into holiday gear yet.  We also get to practice our Chinese. I never get tired of the look on a Chinese persons’ face when these lǎowài ( lit.‘always foreigner’, sometimes used pejoratively) greet them in their own language and start chatting. Usually there are a few seconds of puzzled silence as they try to work out what we’ve said in English (or in this case, Spanish). We then repeat ourselves slowly and the light dawns, and the verbal floodgates open, at which point we have to politely ask them to slow down.  On the beach in Casteldefels, Chinese ladies walk up and down offering massages for EUR5. We take them up on it a few times, and while they are very good, I wish they had gotten all the sand off their hands first. Or maybe the offer includes exfoliation.

In a break from the beach and blissful vegetativeness, Sini and I spend a day in the city centre, cruising La Rambla and the side-streets, the labyrinthine Barri Gòtic - the gothic quarter of the old city, absorbing the ancient stone facades and pretending it’s a thousand years ago. Barcelona has a strong retro thing going on, and there are lots of shops selling 70’s and 80’s clothing and memorabilia. Actually Barcelona seems decidedly and deliberately anti-fashion, or on the opposite end – trend-setting.  In either case, looking weird is celebrated.

My mission on this day is to try to find a particular kind of guitar – reminiscent of a trez guitar but more akin to a guitarlele. It has a smaller body than a classical guitar but a full size fretboard, and a distinctively crisp sound. I manage to find this obscure instrument in a shop on one of the many side-streets off La Rambla, but the price immediately cues the shattering sound of a breaking dream. Sometimes we forget this is Europe.  ‘Europe sucks’, we grumble.  I’m still sulking when we stumble upon a shop that stocks all the great Islay Scotch whiskies at the best prices I have seen anywhere in the world. This makes up for everything!  We forgive Europe and stock up on Laphraoig and Lagavulen.  If you’re a fan of the peaty and smokey, and you happen to be in Spain, try Lafuente. They appear to have shops in most of the major cities.  This place also puts the final nail in the duty-free coffin – I’ll be posting a rant here about what a con that is sometime soon.

We meet up with the rest of the family at Tiina and Jari’s apartment for drinks and a short nap, and then head out to Monjuic to observe the ‘Musical Fountains’.  Framed by a spectacular sunset, the view of the city from the top of the stairs of the Palau Nacional alone makes it worth being there, but the fountains are also fun.  They perform choreographed water-ballet and acrobatics in a rapidly changing kaleidoscope of colours. The only weak point in this display is the cheesy 80s music that accompanies it. To me, it seems like it needs something dramatic and powerful like Strauss’ ‘Also Sprach Zarathustra’ (theme from the movie 2001) or the 1812 overture. ‘Moonlight Shadow’ and ‘We Built This City’ just don’t cut it, and even the fountains agree and refuse to dance in time.  I know I wasn’t the only one to think this, as I overheard a woman with a broad southern accent complain, ‘Why don’t they do music by a Spanish guy, like George ‘Bee-zet’ or some guy?’

The rain returns from the plain just as we leave Barcelona. It will catch up with us in Finland. But we’re tanned, rested, have gained about 5kgs each, and don’t care.