Four Days in Barcelona: Uncommon Travels

Barcelona

Our four day visit to the beautiful and creative capital of Barcelona came after an 18 hour bus ride from Granada and north along the Mediterranean coast. Ntrance into the city was a bit blurry given the time of day: 7 am. My mom and I had no plans; other than the fact that we wanted to be somewhere centrally located in order to have access to the majority of the city’s sights and sounds. Luckily for us, we struck it rich! After following the guidance of trusty metro attendant, we took the metro three stops from the airport in the direction of the city-center, and surfacing in the center of L’Example only a couple blocks from La Sagrada Familia.

Trying our luck further, we asked a local business owner where a nearby hostel might be. She responded: a half block down. We checked it out. Later, after finding out that there was no vacancy at the hostel, we contacted another hostel two blocks away. We chatted with Byron, a Senegalese immigrant, who was cordial in every way. He prepared our room, and, given his newbie status at the hostel, mistakenly assigned us to a four-bed room at the impressive price of just $50 Euros. What more Northeastern Spain! These rooms were spacious, interestingly decorated and adorned with late 19^th century style that formed a perfect comfort to our search. The employees were very professional and took quite a liking to the only female that worked the front desk. There’s nothing like the seductive accent of a Barcelona girl.

What more could you ask from this city?! What it provides is an introduction into the freedom that one finds in many areas of Europe. An openness in terms of art, expression, and possibility. This could’ve been my perspective unto the whole thing, but that’s the essential feeling that I had during our four-day stay in the city.  La Sagrada Familia, no words can describe the grandeur of this building. To me, the natural adornment and décor of this building, both inside and out, is a way of Gaudi saying, “let’s make our religion as fluid and natural as possible.” I believe he also recognized that there was little difference between Nature and God. By validated Nature through his natural styles incorporated in his architecture, Gaudi attempted to return the church to its rightful owner: that is, God.

Las Ramblas: I would imagine that the stores, restaurants, and stops that previously stood in this area were much more interesting and alluring to visitor and local alike. Let’s not forget that during the last 20 years (Since the Summer Olympic Games in 1992?), Barcelona has enjoyed a huge spurt in popularity, as noted by the “development” (I would say, degeneration) of Las Ramblas. It’s an interesting place to visit, with no shortage in Disneyland/tourist-like services and goods and a fair-share of pick-pocketers, but I would avoid this area at all costs. A worthy part of the city that is a must is La Barceloneta and El Barrio Gotica, this is the home of the Picasso museum and a variety of shops, stores, and restaurants all tucked away on narrow streets reminiscent of most European towns and cities. The dark streets give way to the light of activity coming from each of the businesses. Some shops are owned and operated by artisans, though most house products (clothes, shoes, etc.) that are crafted elsewhere.

I’m disappointed that we missed visiting the majority of museums, cultural sites, and other landmarks, but, to my personal liking, my mom and I visited the glorious steps of Montserrat, which stand an hour’s drive northwest of the city center.

Montserrat is prettiest on any day of the week, in any weather, and with any form of company (be it solo to with the rest of the world). The presence of this mountain, which is named after the serrated quality of the rocks that form the mountain (hence, Montserrat, or Serrated Mountain). Our day was overcast, cool, and foggy; a perfect day to see this special area. I want to go back to this place. I still can’t get over the fact that Montserrat is so close to the impressiveness of the city of Barcelona, its lovely hilly outskirts, and the expanse of the Mediterranean Sea.

Toni, our guide, and my friend from a trip that I made to Ecuador a few years back, met us at the University station close to the Camp Nou. In his minivan, my friend took me and my mom to this place.

Toni is a Catalonian born on the outskirts of Barcelona, where he currently lives close to his family. I met Toni when I was in Quito, Ecuador in 2007. I had the pleasure of meeting and spending time with him and a handful of other marvelous travelers whose nationalities spanned the world’s arsenal. Toni and I had an unsaid connection which usually manifested as short outbreaks of laughter and appreciation for one another and whatever common point of focus.

When Toni isn’t helping his father with his carpentry business, my friend spends a majority of his time creating truly one-of-a-kind art from velvet and paint. It’s some of the most innovate, beautiful, socially-conscious, and interesting art that I’ve ever seen, and it’s further proof that, regardless of monetary success, giving the world of oneself via one’s passion, talents, and abilities is the most important action that anyone can do.

We wound outside of the city, through the industrial parts, along an unnavigable river, to the turn off which stretched up the mountainside to the diamond in the sky.

Upon arrival to basecamp, we strode past a museum, a former monastery, and a cathedral housing the infamous Black Virgin. Give background to this…

We took a walk up a wide looping road that culminated in an almost panoramic view of the entire area to the northeast of Barcelona. The splendor of the city and sea are usually viewable from this perch in the sky, but on this occasion, given the patchy fog of the afternoon, we could only make out these elements from the sun’s faraway reflection that shone through clouds.

Toni asked me what I thought about the United States and how their ability to rise in power in every aspect was so pronounced and seemingly unbreakable. I had to pause for a moment and could only respond that the U.S. has the benefit of the “Protestant Ethic,” which is the source of many of the catchphrases in our vocabulary today. “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps,” “…,” “…,” etc.

It’s this mentality that led to the focus and importance placed on the individual in our society. Also, much later, the impact of Ayn Rand-type thinking that demands that each person be completely self-sufficient and self-reliant. To me, this is a brilliant idea if only it could be given context. Not everybody is in a position to benefit from being completely self-reliant, since assistance is often needed to get a start, catch a break, and have an opportunity to improve one’s state/status. In Rand’s vision, empathy is thrown out the window, and me, me, me, or, us, us, us (and not: them, them, them) is commonplace. In terms of owning one’s own personal power, Rand’s ideas are perfect and fitting. On the other side of the equation, the social safety net side, empathy through assisted support/living is completely necessary.

Toni was still in awe of this. After all, he was currently embroiled in a difficult social, familial, and personal financial situation where he had been questioning the false promises and projections that the Spanish (and other countries’) government had posed. Something failed: the fraudulent projections of banks, markets, and companies. Buy, buy, buy; then, go bankrupt and wonder what happened and how it all went so wrong. I had been sleeping at the wheel; much of what was occurring in Spain was reminiscent of other countries including, Greece, Ireland, Portugal, and even the U.S. I knew this, but I had chosen, previous to this, to cover my eyes and enjoy my area of bliss. Toni woke me up in that moment, as I realized that none of us can ignore the bad decisions being made at the level of the Corporatocracy.

At that moment, my head was cluttered with why I hadn’t been able to give Toni a quick and easy and clear response to why the U.S. system was the way it was and how it had come to be. My frustration for wanting to know led me to investigate further, and after the initial confusion, I now understand the reality of the U.S. socio-economic structure, and that of the rest of the world.

At the tail-end of our descent from the heights of Montserrat we reached the town of… this little hideaway at the base of the mountain was a perfect place to satisfy our hunger. There’s no better way to do this than to eat the famous sausage/chorizo of Catalonia, Butifarra.

We parked ourselves inside a local restaurant that had an obvious history of hikers that frequented the place. Toni filled us in on just how rich this restaurant’s history has been in terms of famous and lesser-known hikers. I was impressed with the décor I saw, the ambience I felt, and the stories that I heard. How fulfilling it is to go to traditional and local restaurants that reflect the livelihood of the population.

The Butifarra and fava beans were delicious and just what was needed after an enjoyable day.

After a pleasant and relaxing ride back to the University metro station, Toni and my mom and I said our good-byes. It was great to have had the opportunity to see Toni again, and to know that he was doing well in terms of following his passion for art and life.

To add to the beauty that we had observed during the whole time we spent at Montserrat, that very same day, we made it to center of all sports, the hallowed grounds of football mecca, the Camp Nou, home of FC Barcelona! This was as rich of an experience I’ve ever had while traveling, given my insatiable love for football and that of the FC Barcelona team. Prior to my arrival at the Camp Nou, I had to slap myself on the face to wake me up from the sleep that I had been so buried in for so long. It was a short metro trip from where Toni left us off to the area of the stadium. We arrived early, perfect in every sense given my wanting to take in every aspect of the experience. I didn’t bring my jersey, but so be it. I was present; that’s all that mattered! We had an accomplice in the ticket arrangement. One Mr. Luis. We ran into him as we were approaching the ticket window to the stadium. I had previously bought one ticket for the game, but I wasn’t banking on using the ticket, since we were two. As we stood in line and I wondered out loud, a 70-something man took me by my arm. I was alarmed, but listened to his message. Though I was completely skeptical from the start to about halfway through the game, I felt that Mr. Luis was to be given attention. We rode the wave…Though my mom still can’t believe that we did what we did… After making the arrangement for the tickets (which were from the son and grandson of our accomplice), Mr. Luis mentioned going to a nearby bar to have a chat. The comforts of my home had all but vanished when we stepped foot into this traditional of traditional bars only a block away from a main entrance to the football stadium. Beer-bellied men and a couple women stood, sat, and adorned the sardine-packed drinkery. Out of the majority of the experiences that I had while in Spain, there’s no way to turn down this one. The images that I remember are the following: newspapers wet with beer littering the tables, bottles of Estella Damn, radios belting the Hymn of FC Barcelona, people chanting the hymn to perfection with no shortage of fervor, and a sixties-seventies feel of adornment to the place.

From there the rest is blurry. Luis and I started to chat about his history with the team, his family, their whereabouts, the possibility of FCB making the Champions League Final, and, most intriguing of all, Luis’s work experience as a train conductor. Our accomplice worked for the train system in mostly the Catalonia Region of Spain for almost fifty years. Right away, he bragged about his free access to all trains in Spain for the rest of his life. He, in fact, had just returned from the south of Spain a few days prior where he had visited family friends from many years past. Next, we discussed the current state of the economy in Spain. I got the clear picture, as I did from numerous others during the two-week visit, that Spain was in a deep hole; one that will take some time to climb out of. Similar to most other countries, world-wide, the lack of spending power of a middle class (and the absence of such a middle class), is the issue. The divide between rich and poor is palpable when talking with people, though it’s not very apparent upon view of the externals. I’ve talked to others that hail from more stable parts of Spain (i.e. the Basque Region), where it is mentioned that the impact isn’t real. A valid point if the surroundings aren’t in the bad shape that characterize the larger part of the country.

Next topic: immigration! Wow! Mr. Luis gave me a clear idea of his take on the subject. All these “non-Europeans” with their interesting habits and illegal activities are the reason that Catalonia and the rest of Spain/Europe aren’t in a more stable economic situation. I couldn’t have disagreed with him more. Though many undocumented immigrants use the system that is provided to them when living/working abroad, they always offer their employers (and, by extension, the country/economy) a population of exploitable workers without “rights” to a fair wage, proper benefits, and protection rights. Very similar to the United States where the “traditionalist/conservative” camp always needs a scapegoat to point at when financial/economic times are tough. The Irish, the Italians, the Blacks, the Browns… Choose your enemy! Filthy and classist/racist upper classlessists always have a finger to point.

What a day it had been! First, the smart, centered, and open-minded qualities of Toni found up at the majestic mountains of Montserrat; then, the entertaining, stubborn, and traditional qualities of Mr. Luis just outside of the Camp Nou.

Now, it was time to get going to the game, for Judgment Day had arrived. Would my mother and I be permitted to enter the stadium? Or, would we be caught, arrested, and deported away from our desired destination of Football Mecca?! We made our way to the entrance gates where we had originally set up the deal with Mr. Luis. I was shaking, my mom was terrified, and Mr. Luis was as cool as ever as the latter presented three laminated photo-clad cards to the ticket attendant. My heart skipped a beat; then two;…. Were the cards real?! Was it enough to pass “Go”?! Could my mom and I pass as relatives of our semi-racist Catalonian friend?! Just when the last of three “No’s” had crossed through and into the jumble of my mind, the gatekeeper did a half-second glance to the entrance cards and a nod to our guide, and we were able to enter the park! What a rush! Ok, so we were in, but would we have set seats once inside?! My mom and I both wondered simultaneously.

The venture further and deeper into the unknown continued as we located our seats. The entrance to the field from the sub-stands area was as good an entrance that any field/stadium provides to the spectator. The three of us expectantly walked up the stairs toward the light that shone from the source of pure football divinity. As I look back, we, and everything in the world, was in double-slow motion as I took the last step that propped my head into a position to set eyes on the field. The glory of the Camp Nou was like no other; I would equate it to the feeling of going toward the light at birth and death. Anything else that is comparable is unknown to me, at least at the time of writing this piece.

From here, we quickly located our seats. The rest was like going to the most amazing spectacle of one’s life. Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, the Castle of Oz, Heaven; all worthy destinations comparable to the Camp Nou! The field: perfect condition. The stands: 99,000 seats, stretching from field up to eternity. The players: doing warm-ups. Busquets, David Villa, Iniesta; and there he was! Lionel Messi! Number 10! The greatest player in the world, maybe in the history of the sport…

The pitch glistened almost readying itself as a stage for the show of a lifetime. As we came closer to gametime, the glimmer of the pitch seemed to be matched by the camera and cell phone lights snapping shots of the stars of the night. Aside from the large contingent of local fans, the foreign fans present represented the whole wide world. They were here to pay witness to the show, the court, the spectacle, the theatre. Who could deny that Barcelona has been the best team of the last five years. All of that would be on display on this night against a mediocre opponent in Rayo Vallecano, the third or fourth best team in Madrid (though they were competing well this season).

FC Barcelona did not disappoint in their 3-1 defeat of Rayo Vallecano. Messi scored two goals, though he could’ve marked at least four all day. It was a nice follow-up to their impressive display of attack shown the previous Tuesday versus AC Milan in the Champions League.

Mr. Luis saw our contentment in watching this show together. Though he left a bit early to beat the crowds, Mr. Luis thanked us for everything and wished us well. My mom and I returned the cordial act too; our new Catalonian friend was responsible for being the guide that made this interesting, engaging, exquisite night possible. So, to all of you that have been or will be touched by the seat and experience opportunities that one Mr. Luis, the Catalonian Train Conductor, offers, cheers to you!

After the game, we waddled at a sheep's pace and mindset out of the stadium; it was a fulfilling end to what is a modern day sacred experience. All fans reveled in the solid and successful game played by Barca. Chants belted and echoed their way through the underground tunnels as the hoards worked their way above terrain. When that finally happened, we set upon a comfortable evening even in spite of being only a speck in the massive 80,000 plus crowd exiting the Camp Nou!

Here, as we strode back toward the underground metro station, I became fully aware of who was who in terms of the fans. In passing some merchandise booths selling all the stuff, 15 or so Chinese kids excitedly and simultaneously called out what they desired. It was a noise that overpowered the collective din of the rest of the 79,985 plus of crowd! I glanced over as I laughed to make eye contact with a lovely Barcelonean girl that appreciated the cute spectacle as much as I did. The ocean of fans moved on...