What is Barcelona like?
Well, I am aware of the fact that since I have been in Barcelona (since May 23rd to be exact) that I have only sent a few measly postcards and stingy texts. This is because when I arrived in Barcelona I immediately hated it. I am pretty sure it had little to do with the city, and a large amount to do with my heavy bag, lack of direction, and the general unfriendliness of the city´s inhabitants. Anyone coming from Dublin cannot fail to be impressed by the sheer scale of Barcelona which is supposed to have the same amount of citizens as Dublin but has beautiful buildings rather than the straight-forward grey sky grey building grey earth of Dublin city. Of course the fine weather can only help.
I refuse to start on a bad note though. Barcelona lies on the north-eastern coast of Spain in an area called Catalunya. The locals seem to be slightly divided on the issue, but generally your best bet is to call everyone "Catalan" and refer to the spanish language as "Castillian". To do otherwise usually incurs a mad session of head-tossing, chest-puffing, ´pah´s and ´bah´s, whiplash, and general bad humour. If you arrive by train from the city´s main airport, the first place you will see is the main square called ´Placa de Catalunya´. To add to your confusion, all signs are written in both Castillian and Catalan. This means if you are given an address in Catalan, you are bound to only see Castillian signs in that area, and vice versa.
But I digress. Placa de Catalunta is a square surrounded by bushes, trees, pigeons, fountains and drug-dealers who look like they have just stepped out of "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air". They are generally friendly enough, maybe because if spotted by the police they are set upon with great force, and are thus in need of white people to prtect them. This hatred of Moroccans and North Africans seems to be a national sport here, along with battering of elderly old homeless types, and the like. The square is flanked by El Corte Ingles, which translates as "the english cut" and is popular in the same way as Brown Thomas in Dublin. The Hard Rock Cafe and Cafe Zurich also line the square, along with the place I work. This means that if I go for a cigarrette break I can stare down into the street at everyone below and shout abuse at them and then hide. Just joking. But working the midnight shift on weekends is hilarious cos you see some awful idiocy and mullet-headedness going on.
Off Placa de Catalunya is a street, or rather several streets tacked together, called The Ramblas. If you follow these to the end you will reach Barcelonetta beach, which is busy most of the time due to its proximity to the city. It is literally a 15 minute stroll down the Ramblas. The Ramblas themselves are tree-lined and full of performers: mostly mime-artists and statues, but also the odd flamenco dancer, and especially towards the end, artists and clowns. My favourite statues at the moment are two old silver men on bikes with skeletons next to them who pedal and squeak furiously waving fists at each other whenever given money. There is also a man dressed as a clock, angels in copper who give out lucky charms to passers-by, indians, mermaids, and Che Guevara and his cronies along with some dodgy looking bird who thinks she resembles Cleopatra. There is a lovely fruit market about half-way down the Rambla where you can take pictures and buy lovely but expensive produce. I hear the farmers are handing out free fruit all over Spain at the moment because of how little they get from shops of the asking price - a basket of cherries costs me 2 euro, yet the farmer only receives 17 cent of this. Sound familiar?
The buildings in Barcelona are mainly old colonial style buildings, and most of the streets are fairly wide, with the exception of the Barri Gothic which is full of medieval winding streets which keep you cool in the summer heat. Some of the buildings have been designed by Gaudi and his contemporaries, and are astonishingly unusual. There is one known as Casa Batllo which looks as though it has a dragon on the roof. Many of the buildings have lovely Art Deco plasterwork and designs, and it is a pleasant city to walk around. There are plenty of parks and churches to see as well.
However, finding a pub is a bit of a mission. During the day it is easy, as the chairs on the terraces indicating bars and restaurants are easy to see. To eat on the terrace is always more expensive, especially round the Ramblas, but after a while you learn where to go (a tip is to secretly follow some locals). I spent my first night out trawling the city for a bar that was open. Barcelona has the reputation of being a party city, with some bars open til 7 or 8am, but what you are not told is that most bars are hidden from plain view, and though open to everyone, it is perfectly normal to find yourself decending upon some tiny dodgy looking street where a dirty doorbell is pressed, and then suddenly you find yourself up 6 flights of stairs in a hopping modern bar. These Catalans are crazy.
Irish pubs are a big favourite and are found all over the town, proudly proclaiming "established in 1986" and the like, and generally full of english-speakers. Here you can pay the standard Irish price for a pint, which in Barcelona is ridiculous, although the beer is at least drinkable. Word of warning: Estrella Damm, which is the standard beer in Barcelona, is disgusting. Drink San Miguel at least! Other drinks to try are Mojitos, or any cocktails, a Claro, which is half-beer and half lime, or Sangria which is a type of wine fruit-punch.
Finding your way around Barcelona, even when full of alcohol, is very easy, although pickpockets and dodgy areas should be avoided, as in most cities. There are tourist offices all over the place where you can get a free map and directions from helpful staff. Catalans on the whole are not very good at directions, believing, like the irish, that is better to sound helpful than to admit ignorance. If you get a map, use it, because all the streets will be marked on it. As for shopping, especially at this time of rebaixas everything is very cheap, topped off by the fact that there are markets galore in the Barri Gothic to your left as you head down the Ramblas toward the sea. Barcelona is in general an expensive city when you consider that the average monthly wage is about 700/800 euro, but for an Irish person it seems good value. Once you travel anywhere outside the city centre, even just along the metro lines, everything ends up remarkably cheaper. Alcohol is, of course, the business. A bottle of Jameson costs only 6 euro compared to whatever the heart-attack enducing equivalent in Ireland is, and you can get a good bottle of wine for about 1.50. Cider, which I wouldn´t touch in Ireland, is also very delicious and cheap, averaging at 1.80 a bottle.
So off I go to Port Olympico, the mad nightclub strip near the beach built during the last Olympics, to visit my boyfriend who is working a nightclub called Australia. It is possibly the most expensive bar in the whole country, TO BE AVOIDED, but I suppose semi-naked ladies kind of make up for its seediness, although I think 9 euro for a Guinness is ridiculous....
Fear not! I will return soon and fill you in on the situation with my life in Barcelona, and my flat farce. Yes FARCE, you heard me! Oh, and the mullet problem of the Catalan people....very sad story actually....
1 Comments:
Mojitos and mullets - sound like a deadly combination. Glad to hear you're doing fine and thanks for all the comments. Will write you a longer note soon, I promise. This working six days a week lark is taking it out of me. Nxxx
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