“So where was I? Oh, that’s right – Barcelona!”

¡Buenos días! Or, tardes… or noches… I guess it depends on where you are. But, the main thing is that we're back from a wonderful trip to Spain! For those of you that don't know, for a brief time I tried to make a history MA out of the Spanish Civil War, and I've been interested in Barcelona and Spain for some time. As long ago as 2004 Nadine and I picked up a guide to Spain, intending to take a trip there in 200- well, 2000-something. You know, whenever we could get the money together. So imagine our joy when I discovered a super cheap flight to Barcelona a few weeks ago! Based on the ticket prices and the recommendations of our friends Gunnar and Kathleen, we headed off to the Mediterranean coast a couple of weeks ago.

Instead of flying out of Leipzig or even Dresden, we soon found ourselves at Altenburg airport, a small landing strip in the middle of the idyllic German countryside. The landing strip was built by the Soviets, and I think that Ryan Air, the cheap airline that we used, is the only airline operating out of that airport. Not that they have many flights and they only fly to three airports, but it makes for a convenient location for Nadine and I.

Our (albeit not quite accurate in this photo) Flight Plan.

Our flight there was overwhelmingly German. Young and middle-aged couples and single guys made up the bulk of the passenger manifest, but there was also a school group that was using the plane. On Ryan Air, there are no assigned seats, so it is first come, first served. Nadine, small as she is, was able to scramble right through the crowd and nab us a couple of seats right away. The down side was that several boys from the school trip had gotten on the plane after us and we were then forced to sit with two behind us and two ahead and off to the right. Despite their yelling at one another (good-naturedly, of course, but no less annoying) for the entire two hour flight, we really enjoyed the Ryan Air experience. Before we knew it, we'd flown over the Alps, then Marseille, the Mediterranean, and finally the Pyrenees before landing in Girona. Well, the Germans all clapped as we landed, which I've been informed is a German tourist thing, and then a pre-recorded Scottish voice jubilantly announced that Ryan Air was the only airline in Europe to be on time 90% of the time, but then we were able to set foot on Spanish terra firma.

Okay, true, Girona is not Barcelona. It's a smallish town about forty miles from the French border, but its main claim to fame (in this story at least) is that it has an international airport. And, while the Altenburg airport is really just two big rooms in a barnlike structure and an old Soviet landing strip, Girona has duty free shops, restaurants, more than one airline operating out of its terminal, and an info desk. Its main attraction for us, though, was that it not only allowed for cheap flights, but we could then hop a bus to Barcelona along with the other German tourists.

The Pyrenees from the Girona Airport.

After an uneventful hour's bus trip, we were dropped off at Estació del Nord, in the heart of Barcelona. I'd done some research before we left, so after gaining my bearings and consulting a hand-drawn map that I'd made, we were able to walk from the drop-off point straight to our hotel, Hotel España. I can actually recommend this method and subsequent accomodations, since it allowed us to check out some famous parts of the city on our way, particularly the Barri Gótic and La Rambla, plus it's only about a mile or so from where the bus drops you off. We were also able to scope out some options for dinner as we walked the narrow alleyways that make up these famous quarters of Barcelona! The sights, the sounds, and the smells of Spain were nearly overwhelming as we headed unerringly to our hotel.

The Arc de Triomf, one of our first sights in Barcelona (right near the bus station).

Now, first things first, let me admit that we were a little nervous about our hotel. It was recommended by Frommers, National Geographic, and others, but after we'd booked it we found it on Google Maps. Let's just say that Google Maps does a good job of conveying the tightness of Barcelona's corridors and the dirty condition of storefront security gates without illustrating how many people there are in those alleyways and the feeling of safety that one retains due to the energy in the city. Pre-arrival jitters aside, we were pleasantly reassured that we hadn't booked a guaranteed mugging, but a nice turn-of-the-century hotel. And, yes, turn-of-the-century is a good thing for a couple of historians.

The Hotel España.

Room with a view... Note the tight corridors!

After checking in (which I was able to do in English as most people here speak it), we headed back out to find some dinner. By this time it was already about 9:00 at night, but in Spain that is a fairly common dinner time. We think it has to do with the siesta that they take in the afternoon. Our first real stop in Barcelona, beyond the bus station and our hotel, was a little place called Txirimiri. Txirimiri (pronounced Cheery-meery… we think…) is largely a tapas bar that also has some select offerings from the Basque and Navarre region of Spain. The Basque region is quite different from Catalonia, but the best thing about Txirimiri is its very local vibe. We were looking for someplace that offered good tapas and a local atmosphere, and we definitely found it there.

After a false start with my Spanish (the people in Barcelona definitely do NOT speak with the Mexican pronunciation I learned from Sra. Gould in high school!) and a short wait at the bar, we were finally able to settle in for dinner, which consisted of slices of baguette topped with a variety of things like chorizo, anchovies and olive oil, sardines and cheeses, Manchego cheese and a balsamic reduction, and this amazing sort of atomized-tomato. It was really as though someone had somehow turned a tomato into a mist and smeared/sprayed it onto warm baguette slices. We also had some "patatas bravas" which were fried potato wedges covered in a cream sauce and a spicy tomato salsa. Washed down with some frosty glasses of the ubiquitous Estrella Damm beer, it was a really satisfying dinner. For dessert we hit a gelato place where I had a scoop of strawberry and a scoop of chocolate-orange gelato ice cream (Nadine was still too full from dinner), and then we finally made our way back to the hotel for some well deserved rest before our big day on the town.

Monday morning dawned bright and sunny, despite the forecast of showers we'd had for the whole trip. Much unlike our usual nature, we got up early and then eagerly hit the streets. Stop one on our agenda: breakfast on the way to the beach. We stopped by a café called Cappuccino that I had noticed the night before (cappuccino and cheesecake for me, orange juice and an almond croissant for Nadine), and then started heading for the palm trees we could barely make out. After some unintended but scenic detours including a wall and tower from Roman days and an arm around my shoulder from a surprisingly friendly police officer (I had asked him for directions), we arrived at the sandy shores of the Mediterranean.

The Barri Gótic.

Roman Wall and Tower ruins.

Barcelona from the Docks.

It was a dream come true. Despite my mother-in-laws' insistence that it would just be another large body of water like the Pacific or Atlantic, it was so different! The water was such an amazing color of blue, not the grayish color of the ocean. When we were flying over, I had even remarked to Nadine that it reminded me of the color of the sky in high summer. Add the beautiful beach with flecks of gold in the sand (from what I'm still not sure), and it was really an amazing experience.

The Mediterranean Sea.

I wasn't the only one enjoying the morning! And, no, she was not with us...

Unfortunately, though, we had already used up several hours between breakfast and finding the beach, so we couldn't really dally. By noon we were back in the heart of the Barri Gótic, eating lunch at a place called Crepes Barcelona before heading off towards the Picasso Museum. After my Emmentaler-and-Sobrasada crepe and Nadine's sugar-and-lemon crepe, which we ate while wending our way though the streets, we discovered that the Picasso Museum was closed, however. Turns out that museums around Europe, while open on the weekends, are all closed on Mondays. So instead we went to Nadine's number two destination: Parc Güell.

After taking the subway to a different part of the city, we couldn't quite find the way to the park, so we stopped at a place called Café Fiorno. Café Fiorno is a great little Catalan café, and it will forever bear the distinction of having made the best "cortado" I have ever had (cheapest, too). A cortado, for those that haven't had one, is a shot of espresso floating on sweetened condensed milk. After delicious coffee drinks and an obligatory use of the free bathroom, we got directions to the park from the girl working at the café.

Okay. It's honesty time. I really wasn't interested in the park. It was designed by a guy by the name of Gaudí, and if you ask me, it truly is "gaudy." While a park made of mosaics sounds interesting in theory, the juxtaposition of concrete, mosaic tile, and the garish colors used did NOTHING for me. Maybe Nadine can do a P.S. on it… Until then, here are a few pictures.

The main balcony at Parc Güell.

The view from the Parc into the city.

A salamander at the Parc. Kudos to Nadine for this shot, since there were so many people there...

... As you can see from this shot!

After the park, we made our way via the subway system to the Passeig de Grácia, which is the shopping mile of Barcelona and used to be the place where the rich and famous lived. There are some truly beautiful villas there. The best part for me, however, was that the Passeig de Grácia empties out onto La Rambla not far from El Mercat de la Boqueria: the biggest, freshest, bestest food market in Barcelona! Much like we had had bad luck at the Picasso museum, though, the Boqueria was largely shut down. We were able to wend our way through it, yes, and we did have some candied orange slices dipped in chocolate, but with most of the stalls closed (and me limping due to an aching Achilles tendon), it just wasn't the experience I was hoping for. It was late afternoon by this point and we were near our hotel, so we opted to do as the locals and hit our room for a brief siesta.

One of the houses on Passeig de Grácia, designed by Gaudí.

A beautiful statue at the Plaça de Catalunya.

An hour later, after my wife and Achilles tendon were well rested, we found ourselves eating churros and the thickest, most pudding-like "hot chocolate" that we've ever had. Now that we had the energy to stay up late enough to have dinner, Nadine suggested that we pass the time by visiting an enormous statue of Columbus (on his way back from the Americas following his "discovery," Columbus landed in Barcelona, hence the statue). For some reason, I was a little reluctant to follow along, but I dutifully went. Moments before we got to the forty-feet-tall statue, the reason for my intuition-based reluctance was clear: a low flying pigeon attacked me. Well, attacked might not be the right word. Bombed would be better. Pooped on me would be even more accurate.

Following a quick stop at a fountain to wipe away the bird-droppings, I decided it was time to go for a drink. It fit our schedule-of-events, but following the poop incident, it was that much more urgent. We headed for a place called El Xampanyet that we'd seen on the series Passport to Europe with Samantha Brown. Frustratingly enough, they had opted for the Picasso museum approach, and they too were closed. Fortunately for us, though, it was late enough by this point to respectably have dinner, so we headed to a place called Evinia for some tapas (Spanish cheeses and potato croquettes with Iberian ham) and some cava, or Spanish champagne.

The closed El Xampanyet.

By the time we were done with dinner and dessert (gelato again – crema Catalana and coffee flavors) it was getting fairly late, but because of the siesta, we weren't that tired. We decided to stop at an elegant little bar called Vildsvin for a nightcap. There were exposed wooden beams, exposed brick, and some Austrians sitting next to us with extraordinarily thick accents in their English. They were soon gone, though, and we had the evening all to ourselves.

The next morning we packed up and headed out to breakfast, our luggage (Nadine's purse and a backpack) in tow. After waiting for a Spanish church to open only to discover that it was filled on the inside with scaffolding, we stopped at a little place called the Bar del Pi for breakfast. To Nadine's extreme credit and her uncanny connection with the city, she was able to consistently pick great and local places to eat, and Bar del Pi was no exception. There was no menu, not a single person there was speaking English, and everyone but us was smoking like crazy and talking or reading newspapers. It was perfect! An espresso, an orange juice, and two sweet croissants later we were more or less breakfasted up and started towards one last park, the Parc de la Ciutadella.

The wonderful Bar del Pi.

I say that we were "more or less" breakfasted, because I was starting to drag after about five minutes from leaving the table. It was warm in Barcelona and the bathroom situation was less than conducive to drinking the amount of water that I am used to. That dehydration plus too few calories that morning made me, well, irritable. I was unfortunately not that interested in the park and spent much of it sitting on a bench while Nadine took beautiful pictures and put up with me like a saint.

The Catalonian Parliament building.

One of the last views of the city, same as the first.

Before we knew it, it was 11:30 and we were on our bus headed towards Girona. Surreally enough, a few hours later, we were back in the middle of pastoral Germany, all memories of a bustling Mediterranean city seeming like a story from someone else's life.

The welcoming committee... Yeah, locals like to sit at the airport and watch people land. Weird, right?

It's been a rough adjustment since then, especially for Nadine. Barcelona was oddly familiar, and we decided that it had an energy like Madison, WI, just on a much, much larger scale. It was more multicultural, and more laid back than anything that we've seen in Germany for the past eight months. It was such a wonderful time, it's a bit hard to get back into the real world. But, I think that's what a vacation is supposed to be: too short, too good to want to leave.

So, there you have it. Barcelona was amazing, and we can highly recommend the city to any and all. Hopefully, the same can be said for all of our future destinations! We'll be doing a bit more traveling soon, so I'll try to keep you all posted. Until next time!