Day 3

We awoke after eleven hours and forty-five minutes of blissful sleep. We headed off on the metro to the Sagrada Familia – a church of Anton Gaudi design. Ever hear the term Gaudy? It must have been coined after this man. He is the Picasso of Architecture. I mean that in the most non-traditional, artistic, weird way. Think of a Picasso painting then translate that into a building. You got it! The church has outlived him but it is not yet completed (begun in the late 1880s) but under construction since his death with private donations. It is far from completion. Only the front and back are completed; no inside as yet. It would have cost $33 for us both to enter (as a “donation”) plus about an hour wait in line in the hot sun on the sidewalk. No thank you. The church will someday be completed but without our financial assistance.

Then back on the metro to Barri Gotic, the Gothic area of the old town. Listening to the speaker on the metro inform of the next stops, I realized that in Spanish (and Catalan, the language of Catalunya – the region of Barcelona) every vowel in a word is used. In English we tend to throw out vowels in a word. We even use diphthongs regularly – no, it is not a thong for taking a dip in the ocean. Don’t you remember seventh grade English? Every vowel here is pronounced separately. “Tetuan” (a metro station) is pronounced: tay- two-wan. I suppose we would say tet-twan, slurring the “au” into a single sound – a diphthong. If you took first year Spanish, you know this. I took German and Latin. Latin has been a big help on our trips to Europe. My Latin teacher in high school told us that Latin pronunciation is unimportant unless you are Catholic since the only people you will likely talk to are very dead. I digress.

Next was the Picasso Museum. Imagine a Gaudi designed building and you can visualize Picasso’s painting style! The museum was interesting in that the paintings were in chronological order, taking us though each period in his life with the different styles. His early work is enjoyable but as he progressed into the early 1900s something clicked in his vision of art that certainly has not clicked in my brain as yet – my same feeling as with Gaudi. That these two shared a time in history in the same location is not surprising.

For lunch I had a Spanish pizza (well, a pizza made in Spain, more correctly). I have had Italian pizzas with the thin almost cracker-like dough in previous years. This was not an Italian pizza. This so far eclipsed those as to be in a different league – and I really liked the pizza in Italy. I ordered this little gem without anchovies even though the menu showed that they came with the one I wanted. I am questionable with fish. Even Chicken of the Sea tuna packed in water is questionable for me. Anchovies make me gag even saying the word. Even thought I asked for no anchovy, of course it came with four little fillets of salty, fishy cat food. Now this restaurant is in a tourist area of Barcelona. I will not return to that restaurant but only because I will leave soon. I got a gratis second glass of wine due to the error. That was true act of class by that waiter.

My first impression of Spain is completely different from what I had thought. Catalan people here are friendly but also infinitely polite. They will not cross a street on red, folks will patiently wait out of the way as others get off the metro or elevators, cars will get out of the way for emergency vehicles, and a scooter will honk at someone not in a crosswalk crossing the street (OK, that was personal, you scooter idiot – I am an American! I jaywalk.)

We are back in the hotel relaxing after another 80F day with humidity. My Northwest body, which is obviously no longer a Bakersfield body, is not accustomed to this torturous heat and oppressive humidity! Ok that was an exaggeration. Tomorrow we pick up our car four blocks from our hotel and head north for the day. But now I am popping the cork on a nice bottle of Catalunya wine - $3.75. Salud.