The Western European Blitz: Day 4 - Barcelona, the boys are falling!

September 24

Marga’s cheese and meats spread are on the menu. A ham and double creamy brie baguette with a can of good ole fashion Coke a Cola!! Let’s hit the streets!.

Today’s a beach day. It’s a balmy 26 here. That’s a fun weather joke. Because you see they use Celsius not Fahrenheit. Before we explore the clothing options of a Mediterranean beach we will find the traditional Catalan El Castells (human tower-climbing competition). It’s being held in Plaza de Jaume.

To enter the square you pass through the old mid-evil era entrance to the city along the exterior wall of La Cathedral de Barcelona. It’s a sardine can of humans and we are swimming up stream. I immediately start working through exit strategies. Ya know, just in case. The other side of my brain says relax and enjoy the experience. It’s a delicate balance and just as we are about to switch from the free style flow to breast stroke de elbows, we hear loud cheers. El plaza de Jaume is in site but the human towers are not. We fear we’re stuck in the mob. Elbows out - create a pocket. We’re in!

It’s a sea of heads. The Catalan flag waves in the distance. The sun is warm but not unbarring. From a pool of colors to the left 4 men in maroon pop up. Now you can see they are standing on the shoulders of dozens of people below them. A scurry of a few smaller people climb. Now 3 more literally climb the backs of their compadres and form another story, locking arms around each others shoulders. Moments later children race up. Bounding from limb to limb. All they are missing is the ears and tale. The boy gets to the top and gives a brief display of accomplishment with a hand raised then slides down the people as if its a fireman's pole. A loud applause erupts from the plaza. Before the clapping stops another tower raises up. This process is repeated several times. We decide to make an early exit to the beach.

On our way out, red team must be going for a record. 7 stories! The tiers begin popping up., One, 2 with now 8 men standing on the shoulders, 3 - 4, they pick up the pace. Here come the children. 5 -6 , uh oh. Heavy tremors on the right side. You can feel the panic and excitement in the crowd. (I get the feeling it’s like a car crash in Nascar. You’re not openly rooting for them to fall, but if they do it really makes the event worth the sweat and claustrophobia.)
Abort! Abort! The kids start sliding down. Rapido! Rapido! Half the tower has been dismantled and then we see the collapse. I spot one of the small boys leap into the crowd from 12 feet or so. “Holy shit!” I hear from Ingrid. A brief silence.
The crowd erupts again! Applauding the effort and jubilant the day is full. Lets hit the beach.

The Mediterranean is very salty. Also quite refreshing. There is constant breeze and warm sand. El Cervasa stand is just a short walk away. You could grab a beer from one of the hundreds of peddlers walking by but most of them are just carrying a six pack in a plastic bag. I have to think the chances of getting a cold one are pretty slim. The other items for sale are fruity drinks and pretty beach blankets. Ingrid takes a stab at the haggle, but oops we’re out of Euros! There is blood in the water now. We are fresh meat and will be swarmed for awhile. It takes several heavy handed NO THANK YOUs until we left to ourselves for a bit.
I’ll just say nudity is not as rampant as anticipated, but it’s there. It’s noticeable. “We internally applaud the confidence or lack of self-awareness it takes you to bare it all in public, sir. You’re freedom to bare all of your milk bag body is an inspiration”
We meet a Canadian couple from Alberta sitting next us, but they seem heavily invested into their card game so we move on. “Soooory to disturb, eh.”
We’re in search of Donkey republic. Donkey Republic is the bike rental we’ll use to get across city to Segrada Familia.

The Basílica de la Sagraga Família. Antoni Gaudí’s master piece. I feel like I could go on forever about the history, and significance this has had on the city and the Church, but I will leave that for Google. For us the biggest take away was the beauty. As I’m sure it is for most. How could it not be. We enter from the Nativity facade which is 4 towers littered with religious sculptures and scenes.

(Again, Google it) When we walk in I lightly mimic Ingrid from earlier with a “holy shit” just as our audio tour tells us this is a place of God, be respectful. Sorry God. Couldn’t help it. The stain glass windows that encompass all sides of the church let in the afternoon light and it’s f-ing awesome!

We travel through learning all of the significance to every aspect of the architecture but really you just keep staring at the brilliance of it all.

We finish with a trip up the Nativity towers. It’s a proper lift up to the walk across the bridge to take in the sights of Barcelona and the Mediterranean. Its small and sturdy and beautiful. Again, one side of my brain is thinking about this being a several hundred-year-old structure of stone and we are several stories up on said structure. The other side goes back to “relax, I’m sure it’s fine.” What are ya gunna do?

The only way to the ground is a narrow spiral stairs case down the other tower with a dozen picture taking tourists in front and behind us. We’re all in it together now folks!

Segrada Familia- Just book it. It’s worth it.

Okay. Wow. It’s been a day. Tired feet. We’re on the verge of loosing Ingrid again to hysteria. Lets pump her full of Tapas! Tetas y Soda is a little stop in the Eixamplar district. It’s run by a friendly young woman name Josina who is from Grenada. We like Josina. Uno Mas Ingrid!

It’s one more stop at a cocktail bar before we call it a night. Michael is a 21 year old Italian who speaks perfect English living in Barcelona . He learned the language from his brother who was a rapper in NYC in the 90’s. He could pass for a Bronx resident. The company so far has surpassed our expectations.
We pass another Goudi building on our way home finally.

Ingrid calls it a night. She is still battling this cold. I crack a beer on the patio and listen to the fireworks from the La Mercé festival. I cant see them but the light fills up the sky to the South. My brain is off, my feet are up, and my eyes are closed.

Goodnight. Hasta Mañana Picaso.