BARCELONA

HOTEL ROOM MATE ANNA

It was a total surprise to me when I realized I hadn't fully read the fine print in the description of our hotel in Barcelona. The little tiny type did include mention of a rooftop pool, a small little water feature hardly bigger than a kiddie pool. I totally missed the reference. I'm thinking Rick was fully aware of the amenity but chose to keep it to himself fearing if I knew I might have changed hotels knowing it would be much harder to keep him focused on our architectural tour if there was eminent relaxation available in the form of an irresistible though small pool.*  I didn't say it but I was secretly on his side knowing the heat of the day was going to get to me as much as it would get to him.

*EDITOR'S NOTE: Once again Rick is struggling to get out from under the bus!

The Hotel Room Mate Anna was located just around the corner from La Batllo, another of Gaudi's architectural wonders. Although for me, the major architectural wonder at five in the afternoon was that there was a Starbucks on the ground floor of hotel.

We had hired a driver to pick us at the airport and deliver us to the hotel. As I mentioned I had missed much in the written description of the hotel but subconsciously I think our gaydar must have been in full swing as we made our selection of where to lay our heads. If the gold details of our swanky room weren't enough the poolside speedo boys were definitely the exclamation point on the "Room Mate" phrase included in the name of the hotel. The hotel preached diversity and although there was a preponderance of muscles there were also plenty of families and groups of geriatrics, us included.

We couldn't have felt safer had we chose any other place to stay. "Enjoy the little things" with a bag of jellybeans was the hotel's motto and its gift.

Our morning breakfasts besides being delicious were always trying to make sure we were looking at the brighter side of life.

Leaving little reminders about how we should lead our lives was set forth in small ways like the chalkboard with a quote, "In a world where you can be anything - be kind" next to a display of the bottled water they provided that helped developing countries bring potable water to their communities.

They were also aware that a lot of partying was going on so to help cleanse the wicked ways of travel there was always a detox cocktail waiting with the rest of the morning offerings.













ARCHITECTURE NOT DONE BY GAUDI

It was hard to walk anywhere in Barcelona without seeing the influence of Gaudi and the art nouveau period. The organic forms growing out from the streets or dripping from overhead canopies were on display everywhere.

Flowers made of tile and cut from stone were worn like jewelry on buildings lining the shopping streets of the inner city.

The organic detail wrapping around the base of this column took this lowly footing and brought it to another level of architectural brilliance by contrasting it with the marble steps below and the massive weight of the column above.

Since I was not familiar enough with the language it was easy to ignore any signs that might have meant "No Entry Allowed" I would walk in anywhere and plead ignorance if I got caught in some place I wasn't supposed to be. My ballsiness got me into spaces that couldn't be seen from the outside. This amazing triangular stained glass ceiling was just one of my taboo moves.

The Massimo Dutti clothing stores are a must stop for both Rick and me but their flagship store in Barcelona is a must see for all and the perfect place to stop for an afternoon cappuccino .It occupies 20,000 square feet of space in a restored early twentieth century building that had previously housed the Catalan haute couture designer, Asuncion Bastida.

The research for the restoration was done in collaboration with Barcelona's heritage society. This signature fireplace on the second floor roared with terrifying design envy.

I believe even the smallest of souls could be impressed with the beauty of Barcelona's architecture.






















THE MARKETS

Our journey to Barcelona scheduled us to hit the streets in the later half of August. On the afternoon we were coming back from La Sagrada Familia we by chance passed one of Barcelona's indoor food markets. Any time in August is not a good time to go food shopping since so many vendors had their gates lowered with handwritten signs saying they would be closed for the rest of the month. I think August translates to "vacation" in Spanish.

Despite many of the drawn awning doors there were still enough vendors open to make our mouths water and our stomachs growl.

There were fresh fish staring us eye to eye and making us hunger for a Spanish dinner with lots of paella even though the time for dinner was hours away.

One vendor sold eggs, the ordinary and then the not so ordinary. I have no real knowledge of what birds or reptiles might have laid these eggs but the idea of passing one of those larger ones seemed painful at best.

 If we had intended on staying for any length of time we would have bought a bouquet from the flower stand that stayed open all night long. In the U.S. we have farmer's markets in many cities small and large but the idea of a permanent market seems so European and so wonderful. I'm hoping it's a trend that will pick up speed in America. Wisconsin are you listening?
















KARMA TWO

Other than our stay in Italy our trip was a bit of a rushed trip with short stays and small tastes of cities we'd never seen or really experienced. We were preparing for our final trip to our last destination. Packing and unpacking and then packing up again is exhausting. We had an early flight the next morning so we had done our packing in the early evening on the night before. It had worn Rick out so rather than dashing off to dinner he opted for a nap. Rick has the capacity to turn his lights out in about a five second time frame if he's tired. The problem is sleep comes so fast the other aspects of lying down before falling asleep don't happen. Things like slipping your shoes off or removing your glasses. Rick is also not a calm sleeper. He can roll around and hold conversations within his dreams. The conversations can be entertaining but the rolling around can cause problems. This time it was his glasses, a new pair of Giorgio Armani frames. The crack of the breaking arm as he rolled over them was enough to wake him up followed by a big burst of profanity and then regret.  Nothing worse than being on vacation when you can't read a menu or a directional sign because you've broken your sight assisted prescription glasses.
He was depressed. We still had a whole section of our vacation and he wasn't about to do it having to hold a white cane with a red tip in his hand. We had gone into the old town section of the city earlier that day. I had wanted a pair of aviator sunglasses. I'd been resisting the urge but as luck would have it it seemed the area of old town we were in was nothing but sunglass stores. After the third one I gave in. I bought a pair.
The only thing I could think of as Rick sat in bed with two-thirds of his broken glasses in one hand and the broken off arm in the other was I had an hour and a half to race back into the weaving streets of old town. I was sure I remembered where the sunglass shop that sold me my sunglasses was located. My hope was I'd find them before they closed and they'd take pity on me and find a way to repair Rick's glasses if only temporarily. I searched. I went down alleys I thought were the ones we had been in earlier that day. I circled around streets where I was seeing the same stores I had passed two and three times in my now panicked state. It got down to seconds before the stores would all close. I gave up.

Sometimes giving in and letting go is the best way of finding what you really need. I started heading back and within two blocks there was an eyeglass store that didn't sell just sunglasses but regular glasses and did eye exams as well. It as if the inner glow of the store was a beacon among the darkness. I walked in and showed the man sitting at his work desk the broken glasses. I told him the story of how they got broken and how we needed to leave early the next morning. He looked at the glasses, got out his tools, poked and twisted the frames and then began to fix them. In his broken English told me he understood how a vacation without sight was no vacation. He warned me about the delicate fix he had done. He refused to charge me. He kept his doors open until he finished and he shook my hand wishing me a bon voyage when I left. Karma.