| Letting Loose In Barcelona |
One of the most enjoyable parts of this trip is having the opportunity to witness so many different cultures. Although little signs of America are everywhere (McDonald's, Britney Spears, Coca-Cola), there is still plenty of local culture left to keep things interesting. While we try not to constantly compare everything we see to life in the United States, it can sometimes be difficult not to think how some of the wacky stuff we come across would never be found back home, where everything is organized and regulated, supervised and safe.
Such is the case in Barcelona, where the Catalan people trade stiff law enforcement and a general concern for their own personal safety for a more fun, free, and definitely more laid back lifestyle. At the same time, it is not a city entirely in chaos. The buses and subways still run on time. There are no rolling blackouts. Trash does not pile up on the sidewalks. And if you called for an ambulance, one would eventually come. But yes, it does seem like every restaurant is closed for siesta right when hunger strikes. And prostitutes do roam the streets at night. On the beach, shady characters constantly try to sell you beer and all manner of illicit substances. But everybody is friendly and I never felt the least bit unsafe.
We arrived by night train into Barcelona on Saturday morning. I had taken a Benadryl shortly after boarding in Switzerland, and ended up getting an unexpectedly good night of sleep despite being curled up in a chair the entire time. When we got off the train, we were greeted by my old friend Matt Thier, a San Francisco native who has been teaching English as a foreign language in Barcelona for almost a year. We were delighted to see him, partly because he is such a cool guy and partly because we have so much more fun in cities where we know people who can show us around. As it turns out, despite Matt's relatively short time living in Barcelona, he has managed to familiarize himself well with the city and was an impressively good tour guide.
We ended up enjoying a very leisurely four days, spent touring the city's diverse neighborhoods, climbing hills to see the nice views, and laying around in sunny parks, taking our siestas. We were also celebrating Matt's birthday weekend, so one evening we prepared food and gathered tasty Spanish wine and headed for the beach just before sunset. We ended up having a grand old time watching the sun go down, meeting Matt's friends, and putting away bottle upon bottle of Cava, Rioja, and other tasty Spanish vinifera. By the time we were done, the subway had closed, so we were treated to a late night walking tour of Barcelona on the way back to our hostel.
A new experience for me was the absinthe we drank in a very old bar called Marsella on Monday night. Apparently an old favorite hangout of Ernest Hemingway, the place really looks the part. With copious amounts of paint peeling off the cigarette-smoke stained ceilings and decades of dust settled upon the diverse collection of glass chandeliers, there is no mistaking that this place is the real thing. We followed the old ritual of absinthe drinking, which involves dropping a sugar cube into a half full glass of absinthe. The cube is then retrieved and balanced on a fork over the glass. The sugar cube is then set on fire, and after some time, water is dribbled over the top to dissolve that which still remains. The resulting beverage is about one part absinthe, one part water, with the sugar to balance out the licorice flavor of the absinthe. To be honest, I didn't find it all that palatable. I would also say that it didn't really live up to it's reputation as an evil hallucinogen that lead people like Vincent Van Gogh to lop off an ear. But it was cool to sip on a very old drink in a truly old bar in a fun old city.
Our big Barcelona adventure occurred last night, during one of the most important festivals for the Catalan people. Barcelona being more or less the center of the Catalan world, we were at ground zero for some serious celebrating. The holiday is known as the Festival of Sant Joan, and is more or less the welcoming of the summer solstice. Catalan people are partiers at heart, and this festival is a perfect example. Traditionally, bonfires are set up throughout the city using old furniture, assorted bits of wood, and whatever other contributions are made by neighborhood residents. A flame is carried throughout the city and one by one, used to light the many fires. In the past, individuals were invited to hop over the fire seven times for good luck, and couples would do the same while holding hands. Meanwhile, a huge party takes place on the beach, with revelers traditionally jumping in the water at midnight and then continuing the party until sunrise.
We were having dinner in a burger joint when the festival began for us. We were sitting around a couple tables having good conversation when a huge explosion erupted out in the street. The sound was nearly deafening and was as bright as lightning through the frosted windows. Everybody in the restaurant appeared startled, but nobody actually got up to see what had happened. After about 10 more similar explosions, somebody from behind the bar went and closed the doors. Some people in our group seemed a little irritated, but I actually was enjoying myself. In almost every other city I've ever been to, an incident such as this would have had police, fire trucks, at least two bomb squads, and several news vans on location in no more than 15 minutes. Here in Barcelona, this was business as usual for Sant Joan.
Upon exiting the restaurant, we encountered a group of young guys setting off firecrackers. When they began tossing them at each other, we made the mistake of appearing the least bit concerned for our own safety, at which point the friendly gents began tossing the firecrackers at us. I am all for having a good time with some fireworks, but the fun of tossing a celebratory lit firecracker at another human being with a big smile on your face is a little bit lost even on me. We thankfully were not pursued as we scampered away, in fear of losing a toe or an eye.
The sounds of small explosions began coming from literally every direction, and there wasn't a place in the city where we went that somebody wasn't lighting something on fire. It wasn't long before we stumbled upon one of the neighborhood bonfires, which was taking place in a big intersection. The fire was about the size of a Buick, which made me wonder how anybody had ever jumped over it once, let alone seven times. The City of Barcelona had put up some small metal fencing around some of the fire in a laughable attempt to protect it's citizens from what could actually be pretty dangerous. More scary than the fire in the street were all the young kids around it, setting off sparklers, bottle rockets, roman candles, and various other devices whose ultimate purpose is to explode in your face.
These kids were having some serious fun, and I must admit so was I. Probably the most surprising and perhaps the most alarming part of the entire celebration was just how calm all the parents were with all that was going on. I was also rather surprised at just how comfortable I was starting to become with the constant sound of explosions around me.
We hopped a very packed bus down to the beach to see what was happening there. Upon arriving, we found the beach lined with thousands and thousands of people drinking, dancing, sitting around in the sand and of course setting off even more fireworks. These were even bigger and more beautiful, and were almost right over our heads. Every now and then, someone would fire off something right next to us, showering our small group with shrapnel and flying sand while we ducked for cover and plugged our ears. Anywhere else I've ever been, this would be considered dangerous and at the very least, rude. But here on the beaches of Barcelona, it was all part of the big celebration.
Eventually we ran out of Cava and decided to call it a night. Bleary eyed and sleepy, we walked past bonfires still smoldering on our way back to our lodgings. Thousands would remain on the beach until sunrise, but for us, the unforgettable experience of Sant Joan's festival was over.
We departed Barcelona this morning on our way to Nice for a few days of relaxation, and have been on trains hugging the extremely picturesque coast of the French Riviera for most of the day. The water is sparking blue and the sky is clear, which has us all very excited for getting some rest by the beach! |
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