postcard from Barcelona
[Alt text: The inside of Gaudi's Sagrada Familia, possibly the biggest church in the world. If you think the Vatican is ostentatious and obscene, Sagrada is like, "hold my beer."]
When I told people I was going to Barcelona for 8 or 9 days, they were surprised I wanted to spend the whole time in the city. As opposed to, say, jetting off to Madrid or Portugal. They don't get it — you could do sightseeing stuff in this city every single day for a month and still only see/do half the things.
Mornings have been for museums and guided tours: Three different Gaudi sites, a design museum, the Miro museum, the Van der Rohe pavilion, an art nouveau music hall that was so incredible I almost cried. Afternoons have been for wandering around, and/or coming back to the Airbnb to take yet another shower. The weather here is humid and confusing. It will seem almost chilly and then 20 minutes later I'm soaked in sweat.
[Alt text: A display of candles that look like 3D bars of soap, some of which feature Vespa designs.]
Random things I've noticed or thought about:
It is no longer easy to pick out other Americans. In the 90s, you could see them coming from a mile away. Baseball hats, white sneakers, loud as hell, looking sloppy compared to everyone else. Not anymore. I will think a couple people look American and then overhear English accents, or French. Everyone dresses so casually now, it's really hard to tell who's from where.
That song all the kids are singing, "We don't talk about Bruno." The Spain version would be, "We don't talk about Franco."
I walked past a Starbucks (with signs in Spanish advertising PSLs) and saw a woman inside wearing a sweatshirt that said PRETTY GIRLS LIKE TRAP MUSIC.
Travel writers should have one finger chopped off every time they write the word "bustling" or "vibrant." Wikipedia is a MUCH better way to learn about a building or a neighborhood.
[Alt text: A donkey made out of a wicker or rattan type of material, right outside a shop, carrying baskets of flowers.]
The rent-a-bike service is called DONKEY REPUBLIC. I am sensing a theme.
"Vintage clothing" here is... different. It's mostly men's, and mostly sports jerseys, tshirts, and sweatshirts displaying American teams/brands/schools. To make the old Izod shirts appeal to women, they've cut off the bottom 12-18 inches of the shirts and hemmed them into what I guess are supposed to be vintage crop tops.
Orange Theory Fitness is all over Barcelona. But here the brand is simply "Orange."
Most of the action is on the (very narrow) side streets. It's more fun that way. My favorite time of day is between 6 and 8pm, when the streets are full of people hanging out, walking their dogs, having drinks and socializing in the little plazas.
I saw a store selling men's clothing. The name of the store was Tween.
I was wondering why I saw so many Filipino people here before: "Duh, colonialism."
[Alt text: A painting on a pull-down garage door, probably a closed sewing shop. The painting shows spools of thread, a thimble, a button, scissors, tape measure, and pin cushion, all in bright colors.]
Taking French instead of Spanish in high school was stupid and racist. I am grateful so many people speak English here. And floored when people ask me for directions in Spanish.
The locals are polite but indifferent. It's not like Japan where kids were psyched to practice their English on me, or places in Europe where I've felt (justified) anti-American hostility. It's more like, "OK, you're American, I will switch to English now."
I love the subway here. It's so easy. I've never had to wait more than 2 minutes for a train, and so many of the places I want to go are less than half a mile from subway stops.
The getting here, and then recovering, was fucking HARD. I basically broke into my Airbnb eight hours early and collapsed, scaring the bejeezus out of the guy who came in to clean. And then the maps apps weren't working for me and I was on the verge of tears, like "I am too old and stupid to travel." A friend told me I was just rusty, and she was right. Now I know to give myself two full days to adjust. And to get a prescription for Ambien next time.
Food: I'm a bit shocked at how much people here can eat, especially at lunch. My first day here, I watched two grandmothers put away enough food for a family of 4. Maybe that's why everything closes mid-day — people have to go home and sleep off the food comas. It hasn't been that hard to avoid meat here, and Google Translate helps a lot. The pan con tomate (bread with tomato on top) is my favorite thing, because I am "basic." Foodie types would have a ball here.
Barcelona has the same inequality we have at home, although a bit less obvious. I saw a man on his knees begging for change outside a Loewe store. I haven't seen the mental illness and drug addiction that is so obvious in the U.S. Maybe they take better care of those people, or maybe there's less meth here.
If an app like Strava were to trace my steps, it would look like a toddler's coloring project: Scribbles back and forth. Not complaining; that's how you learn your way around.
If I come home without Covid it will be a goddamn miracle. No one wears a mask here. It's required but not enforced on the subway. I'm in the 10% that does mask on the trains. But that's not stopping me from enjoying all of this. I have like 8 more hours to enjoy this place so I'm hitting send and apologizing in advance for typos.
Mommy Dearest
As promised, a combined story based on things you sent me:
When I was a kid, she told me I was allergic to bees, that if I ever got stung on my chest or throat, everything would swell up and I would die. She never bothered to let me know about epi pens, and I lived the next 30+ years of my life terrified of bees. Eventually I got stung by a bee, had a panic attack, went to the ER, and... nothing happened. Turns out I had never been allergic to bees. Of course, when I told my mother about this, she laughed and said "I'm pretty sure someone was allergic to bees."
Mom used to be a speechwriter for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. Before 9/11, she once flashed her ATF badge as she boarded a plane, like she was some kind of federal agent going after criminals. Yes she was carrying her gun. The pilot asked her about her mission, and she said, "Oh, no, I'm going to shoot foxes in Colorado." That didn't end well.
Another time, when she wasn't happy with a hotel room, she yelled at the check-in person and threatened to douse herself in lighter fluid and light herself on fire if they refused to change her room. She was asked to leave.
One night when I was in high school, my mother called my best friend's boyfriend's mother and yelled at her because I was not home on time. I wasn't even at their house.
As an adult, I once invited her to my book club meeting, and she tried so desperately to impress everyone. Like, proving that she wasn't just my mother, that she'd read the book too. She kept interrupting everyone else when they tried to speak. It was so bad that afterwards, several people came up to me all concerned, asking me, "Is your mom OK?"
Right after I had a baby, she flew out to "help" me. But rather than help, she spent the entire week obsessing about the FedEx guy. She was convinced he was purposely NOT delivering something work-related to her at my house. By the time he arrived with her package, she screamed at him and had a complete meltdown. All while I was leaking breast milk and crying because I was so tired and overwhelmed at being a new mom.
These days, my mom has a tendency to hang up abruptly when she's done with whatever phone topic she called about. It's extremely disconcerting. It's also a relief. That woman is impossible.
Links
Long Covid sounds terrifying. (Guardian)
The answer to “Is being an adult just a never-ending to-do list?" (Substack)
An interesting approach to how to stop worrying. (Psychology Today)
New favorite comedian. (YouTube)
Or maybe this comedian. (YouTube)
If you went to my high school you might appreciate these pants. (JCrew)
This dog singing/howling. (Boing Boing)