We are renting a fairly cute two bedroom apartment in the most exciting area of Barcelona, about a ten minute walk from La Rambla (the main pedestrian drag with restaurants, cafés, and shops) and close to a huge park called Mountjuic (meaning “Jewish mountain”, taking its name from the Jewish community that settled on the park’s slopes centuries ago), which boasts many gardens and museums and was the site of most 1992 Olympic events. The downsides: our walls could use painting, the kitchen could use more cooking implements (for Jeremy, of course), and random chachkas and papers in drawers and around the house could go. But, other than that, this place is ideal.We are indeed living in the heart of the city with loud cars, trucks, motorcycles, and pedestrians making their way by our second-story window at what seems like all hours of the night. I’ve forgotten about that part of living in a city—the noise, constant activity, bright lights shining through the windows. Last night at 11 pm, the city trash collector picked up the garbage just below our window. At 8 pm, there are a ton of children still at the local playgrounds, even more so than at the times Jonah and I find ourselves there around 10:30 am and 4:30 pm. Shops really do close down from about 2 to 5 pm, which basically works out fine because of Jonah’s afternoon naps. Based on who I’ve seen pushing around strollers during the day, many children appear to be cared for by grandparents and fathers here, much more so than in the states I would imagine. One dad even had to deal with his little girl who wet her pants and all that went into changing her out of her clothes, drying her off, and getting her in a new outfit. Hallelujah, he’s experiencing the challenges of a typical stay-at-home mom!
Yesterday we got to our apartment at about 2:30 pm and tried to put Jonah down for a nap. That never seems to work the first day at a new place. So we went out for a stroll around the neighborhood with our grumpy little man. We found a little play area on the way, where Jonah wanted to spend most of his time opening and closing the gate. We ate dinner at a café on La Rambla from which we could people watch and take in our new surroundings. We did a quick run to the supermarket, and I quickly realized that this would not likely be a month of organic products. I’m still in search though…This morning Jonah and I went to explore another part of our neighborhood and a park that our guidebook refers to as having the best playground in Barcelona, Parc de Joan Miró. Having just come from London, home to the most fabulous parks, I was sadly disappointed. At about 11:15, the small play area was overrun by obnoxious teenagers—about 30 of them—who were snotty to the grounds keeper when told to get off the play structure, completely ignored a nanny who scolded them for coming into one of the very few areas designed for those under five, and were smoking (the latter of which angered me the most and almost made me speak my mind to one of them, which ultimately seemed pointless). From there, we went to the huge vegetable and fruit market, Mercat de Sant Antoni, where locals go to buy their produce and more. Located in a beautiful, old building, the market dates back to 1876. Most days it also has exterior, covered stalls selling clothes, shoes, and drapes. On the weekends, the outside stalls are occupied by vendors of old books, albums (yes, LPs!), and DVDs.
After Jonah’s nap we took a little stroll around the area and ended our outing with an hour visit to a little park on a pedestrian street called Avenguda de Mistral, which has several enclosed play areas dotting the five-block avenue. Jonah learned how to get himself on and off a bouncing horse, which pleased him quite a bit. We met Jeremy by the Mercat de Sant Antoni around 5:45 pm so we could walk around the old town and enjoy another dinner out.October 7: What amazing weather we have here in Barcelona! Warm weather and blue skies, you can’t beat that. I’m starting to get used to the loud street below, but earplugs are still a must for sleeping at night. The old city (where our apartment is located and where we spend most of our time) has the smells of a developing country with the diesel and other exhaust from cars and mopeds (the latter of which everyone seems to own despite the fabulous bike lines the main streets have, protecting bicyclists from cars with large bumps that would surely ruin any car tire that hit them), urine from dogs (which are also a dime a dozen and mostly of the quite small variety), and strong food aromas. This isn’t meant to be a negative. I actually quite like this aspect of our neighborhood, particularly since we’re only here for a month and I’m doing my best not to think about Jonah’s increased air pollution exposure (which, incidentally, was as bad in London because of all the cars on the road). The countryside in Greece will give Jonah’s nasal passages and lungs a break from the fine particulate matter…
On Friday I decided to explore Montjuic with Jonah because of its close proximity to our apartment. It seemed like a natural place to find play areas for Jonah. What I found instead were nearly 500 stairs I had to either climb or descend to get to some of the gardens and to explore only a small part of the beautiful park, never once coming across a playground. Montjuic has lovely, terraced gardens, which are not ideal for walking around without a stroller. And, of course, the map doesn’t tell you the best path to take to avoid stairs and access ramps and/or roads. My first mistake led to my ascent of 69 stairs with Jonah bumping along in the stroller, only to realize that I couldn’t access the park from that road. So I made my way down 55 stairs on another street, thinking I was safely clear of the stairs. Let’s just say 350 stairs later (68 stairs up, 20 stairs down, 68 stairs up and a steep ramp, and 194 stairs down) made for one heck of a morning workout for me. Jonah enjoyed walking in the gardens; I never did find a play area. On our way to Montjuic I realized that life doesn’t seem to begin here until well after 10 am, as few shops were open as we walked through the Poble Sec neighborhood to the park. It’s quite nice actually how serene it is during our first hour of the day out and about, especially considering the sometimes overwhelming juxtaposition of the post-8 pm vibrance of the city.
Jonah took a long nap on Friday, so we only made it to the same play area on Avenguda de Mistral before coming home to meet Jeremy for an early dinner and a walk around the neighborhood. We strolled along La Rambla and the surrounding quaint, picturesque streets while enjoying gelato from one of the many gelato shops in the area.
On Saturday, we all ascended Montjuic, but we did it via a funicular, bus, and cable car this time. Much easier indeed. We went to the top to visit the fort/castle, which has sweeping views of the port and city below. On the clear, beautiful day we had it was just stunning. We spent quite a bit of time sitting inside the courtyard, where Jeremy snoozed on a bench, Jonah played, and I took pictures of both. It felt like we were a world away from everyone and everything, so quiet, so calm.
After Jonah’s nap, we headed into the Barri Gòtic (the Gothic neighborhood), the funkiest part of the old city. The area has narrow pedestrian walkways and an eclectic collection of shops and cafés. It also is home to the main cathedral, La Seu. We strolled along the beautiful walkways, visited the cathedral and the medieval Jewish quarter, and found ourselves in the middle of a clown act for children in the location (Placa del Rei) where Isabella and Ferdinand received Christopher Columbus on his return from his significant 1492 voyage. Jonah was quite interested in trying to figure out what the clown was doing. He didn’t find the clown funny.
He just kept asking in rapid succession, “Happin? Happin? Happin?” It’s not easy to explain to an 18-month old why a clown is taking off his jacket and putting it back on inside out over and over again for a laugh. We took a quick run through the Museu d’Historia de la Ciutat, with its underground archeological remains of the Roman city of Barcino. Over 43,000 square feet have been excavated, with the remains dating from the first century BCE to the sixth century CE. Some of the remains have been extraordinarily preserved, including mosaic flooring, a wine making and storage processing area, and laundry facilities. We enjoyed a lovely dinner out in the neighborhood before getting gelato and heading back to our apartment.
On Sunday, we walked to the Eixample, an area developed in the 19th century north of the old town that required tearing down the medieval walls that originally enclosed the old part of Barcelona. The area boasts many of Antoni Gaudí’s buildings with their funky, art nouveau appearance influenced by Moorish and Gothic styles. When the area was developed, the more affluent folks in Barcelona moved there. The Eixample remains a more upscale area, the difference in its riches being most apparent in the cleanliness and fresh look of the city streets and building exteriors, lack of urine on the sidewalks, newer and better maintained children’s play areas, and overall more manicured look. 
Comparatively, our neighborhood (and the old city generally) pushes one’s comfort zone more. There’s more grit and trash, but it also has more character and local life (the latter of which is particularly true off La Rambla closer to our apartment). We’re perfectly located for our one month stay. A shorter one would call for staying in Barri Gòtic and a longer one would pull me to the comforts of the Eixample.After Jonah’s nap, we took the bus down to the beach, where we walked through Barceloneta and the Olympic port before landing on Nova Icária beach. Jonah played in the sand with his bucket, sifter, and shovels before we hit one of the local seafood restaurants for dinner. Twice as expensive as the places we’d gone the previous dinners out, the food was disappointing. That’s what we get for eating in a tourist area… We headed back to our apartment through the Olympic village and caught a bus that took us around the south eastern part of the old city, which we haven’t yet explored. We grabbed gelato on La Rambla, and Jonah had his first “official” helping of ice cream (from my cone, demanding more after he crinkled his nose because of the cold and then rapidly licked his lips to enjoy the flavor). My mom’s spoonfuls of ice cream to Jonah on the down low months ago count as Jonah’s “unofficial” introduction.
On Monday it was back to work for Jeremy and back to the beach for Jonah and me on a day with amazing blue skies and warm weather. We took the metro (subway) to the Poble Nou neighborhood (after first heading four stops in the wrong direction following our train transfer…whoops), a largely 19th century industrial area that now has some of the trendiest clubs and shops in Barcelona. Right out of the metro stop I found my organic mecca, a store with chlorine-free diapers and wipes, organic food for Jonah, and synthetic-free personal care products. Hooray! After stocking up on supplies, we walked along the traffic-free, tree-lined, main drag to the beach through Poble Nou. We spent an hour playing in the sand before checking out the 19th century Cementiri de Poble Nou (yes, another cemetery). I think I may be getting over my cemetery interest, save for the Jewish and/or old ones. After Jonah’s nap, we all met up with Macartan’s parents, who happened to be in town visiting another of their sons here on business, for coffee in the plaza off the La Seu cathedral in Barri Gòtic. It was lovely to see them again and to talk politics, both American and international. (Incidentally, while there are a ton of kids in Barcelona, and our guidebook claims the city is child friendly, not a single restaurant or café we have frequented has had a high chair. Thankfully, we always bring our portable chair everywhere we go (it deflates and folds up quite compact, fitting snug under the stroller), so it has worked out fine. It’s just strange…)
This morning Jonah and I started with a trip to the Dunkin Donuts (yes!) that we found on La Rambla the previous day. Sadly, they don’t stock hazelnut coffee, but I did enjoy a donut and a wonderfully weak cup of coffee nonetheless. Then off to the Placa de Catalunya, which anchors the top of La Rambla, and across the street from where El Corte Ingles sits. El Corte Ingles is a real supermarket. What we’ve seen and shopped in so far don’t count. They’ve not had enough food and other items. El Corte Ingles is nine floors of groceries, clothing, hardware supplies, housewares, you name it. Jonah played in the plaza for a while as we waited for the store to open. Once in, my most important find there—cold milk! We’ve been drinking milk that you buy unrefrigerated in a box. I’m pretty sure it’s because it’s not pasteurized. You have to refrigerate it when you open it. I’m thrown by the whole thing. Anyway, not only is this milk I found cold but it’s, yep, organic! So, I may be making a twice weekly trip there (likely by bus because of the distance) to get our milk. Starting to feel a little like we’re living in a modern day “Little House on the Prairie” episode, purchasing our fruits and vegetables over yonder and our milk across town, hauling our wood in from the street (not really but you get the idea…not the creature comforts of the Eixample). But it’s all part of the adventure. One of the things I have most enjoyed in Barcelona has been the process and journey involved in figuring out how and where to obtain items for our flat or local services. Whether it’s been my search for organic food, a seamstress to replace the zipper on a pair of Jonah’s pants, plug adaptors for a baby monitor we bought in Ireland, or a video store (still working on this one), I’ve strolled down many interesting, colorful streets and stumbled upon countless plazas teeming with people enjoying the weather and a cup of coffee. It has allowed me to watch the local residents go about their daily lives, away from the throngs of tourists.
The second big find at El Corte Ingles—a sponge. Seems crazy, I know. But after looking in multiple stores, I had not yet found a sponge that actually absorbs water. I won’t attempt to compare it to the sponges we know, love, and apparently take for granted in the states. So here’s a picture. On the left is the pointless sponge; on the right is the newly purchased, much beloved sponge. With small things like this to keep me happy, who needs that hazelnut Dunkin Donuts coffee!?!? (I do, actually, so feel free to ship me a cup or twenty-seven.)Back on the subject of hot drinks… The other day I was completely ridiculed for ordering a hot chocolate and requesting more milk. The cup I was given had what looked like thick, chocolate syrup in it. It was hot, yes, but I wasn’t looking for a cup of hot chocolate goo. I was looking for a milky beverage that tastes like chocolate without clogging your throat because of its viscous consistency. After looking in the cup, I asked for more milk. The older gentleman who made it for me shouted out to the woman at the cash register and said something back to me that I couldn’t quite understand. So I asked again for more milk. He muttered some things under his breathe, poured a little milk in, and when I asked for even more (than the three drops he had added), he said, “Que mal!” (“How bad!”) Don’t think I’ll be going back there or ordering a hot chocolate quite frankly. One humiliating hot drink experience is plenty for one month. My cute baby didn’t even buy me any points with the guy apparently.
While they don’t have the hot chocolate thing right, they do have the coffee experience right. For the local cafés, there really isn’t a “to go” option here (although you can find some places that do it). Instead, there’s a coffee bar where you order your cup of coffee, sit for 10 minutes to drink it, and head out on your way. It must be a part of what I’ll coin the “siesta” culture here—laid back people, no one rushing to get anywhere, and no Blackberrys. Anyway, the whole coffee bar scene is certainly better for the environment, since it obviates the need for disposable cups. Here, here to that.
From the supermarket/department store wonderland, we strolled into the Barri Gòtic to check out the old synagogue, which had been closed over the weekend. Antiga Sinagoga dates back to the 3rd century CE, surviving until 1391 when the Jewish quarter was taken over and Jews were forced to convert, flee, or face execution. Some of the original wall from the synagogue remains but most other Jewish buildings in the quarter were destroyed. The synagogue serves mostly as a museum now, although the guy who gave me a brief overview told me that it’s occasionally used as a place of worship. Last month a couple got married there. Apparently, there are now four synagogues in Barcelona but no active ones in the old city. Our sabbatical really has brought home for me—more so than any film or other trip I’ve taken before—that Jews really are a diaspora people. First in London, I read a book and talked to friends about the treatment of Jews in London and their expulsion by King Edward I. And now in Barcelona, we see the remnants of the Jewish quarter from the medieval times and hear about the 500 families in the city who were either killed, converted, or fled. I know nothing about Greece’s Jewish experience, so it’ll be interesting to learn about it. And then, it’ll be quite a contrast to spend December in Israel, which was established because of all of this.
From the synagogue, we went to a nice playground on the way home, one we had not yet stopped to enjoy. Jonah particularly liked watching his rocks go down the slide and then following them down himself. He’s quite a rock collector. Jonah also tried snuggling up to and kissing a little girl who joined him on the play structure. Rebuffed, he went back to his slide and climbing up and down the stairs before we strolled home to meet Jeremy for lunch. That’s one of the many nice parts of sabbatical, enjoying lunch as a family.
Jonah is growing up so quickly; let me share some recent updates on him. He understands and can express the concept of being hurt. He got his finger stuck in a slat of a frisbee, and he called out from his stroller, “Hur (hurt), stu (stuck).” While sad, it was also really quite cute. He also understands the concept of being tired. The first time he expressed this was in London when we were strolling back to our flat before lunch, and he said, “Ti-reh (tired)”. He did look quite sleepy. He used the word here as well and followed it up by plopping on the floor and putting his head down. Jonah is also quite active in pretend play. In London it was pretending the table was his boat and making us all oatmeal. Here it’s pretending the cabinet is his car, opening the door, and sitting on the edge. The other day he said, “Open car,” and he opened the door and sat down. Then, “Bye bye.” A minute later, “Out car,” and he stood up and got out of the cabinet. The other week he said to Jeremy, “Kno kno (knock, knock), ooo dare (who’s there)” We’re quite enjoying watching him develop and become a little boy.Picture descriptions: The building on the left is our apartment building, where the yellow sign is attached to the balcony (which is our living room balcony, to the left is our bedroom balcony); Enjoying dinner on La Rambla; The first horse Jonah climbed and jumped off himself; Jonah makes a call on his cell phone from the courtyard of the castle/fort; Clown performance in Placa del Rei; Jonah bewildered by the clown; Jonah enjoys one of the manicured and trash-free playgrounds in the Eixample; Jeremy does as well; Jonah watches a couple of guys work on the wood walkway out to the water at Bogatell beach; Jonah and me at Placa de Catalunya; Sponge comparison; Jonah enjoys the play structure at Jardins Dr. Fleming located by the old hospital; Jonah shows off his five teeth.
No comments:
Post a Comment