Barcelona: Day One

Loads of sticky tabs

Two days in Barcelona--one of which was spent in a jet-lagged daze--gave us barely enough time to scratch the surface of all there is to do and see. The list of sites I wanted to visit was insurmountable, and I knew that from the start.

Simon/ukelele and John/travel guitar

We departed MSP on July 30 with a very short one-hour layover in Charlotte, NC, and then we were on our way to Barcelona. The flight was uneventful if long (8.5 hours). As usual, since we had individual screens in the seat backs, the boys gorged on movies. Admittedly, so did I, crossing While We're Young and 100 Foot Journey off my list. I read a bit from Go Set a Watchman, Harper Lee's controversial, previously unpublished first novel. I managed to sleep just a little bit and so didn't feel like a total wreck upon arrival.

Happy travelers pre-boarding in CLT

The plane landed in Barcelona around 7 a.m. We went through border control quickly, collected our luggage, declared nothing, grabbed a cab, and headed to our hotel. I sat in the front seat of the cab, wishing I spoke even just a tiny bit of Spanish to break the uncomfortable silence. Instead I watched the cityscape transform from the sort of European architecture that is often a mixture of street-level storefronts with apartments above. As the taxi rolled down Avenue Diagonal, I caught my first glimpse of what could be nothing other than Gaudi's genre-defying buildings. It was one of those defining moments: when you identify a landmark you have long associated with a city, like Big Ben in London or the Eiffel Tower in Paris. I knew we had arrived, and I couldn't wait to explore.

Our hotel, on the corner of Passeig de Gracia and Diagonal, had rooms available for us at 8 a.m., which was a pleasant surprise. I had planned on just dropping our luggage in storage and heading out but we were able to brush our teeth, splash cold water on our faces, and generally revive ourselves for a big day of walking around.

But, first, breakfast. On Passeig de Gracia, not far from our hotel, we found a bar with outdoor seating that offered pastries (Winston's choice, always) and bocadillos, Spanish sandwiches with fillings such as prosciutto, potato/egg tortilla, and dry sausages. The tavern, I later learned, specialized in pintxos, Basque tapas, which I had enjoyed on a previous trip to San Sebastian. Since this visit to Barcelona was one part scouting mission, I have added Txapela to our list for the next trip.

Before we could even order another bocadillo, it was time for us to find our way to Park Guell, one of architect Antoni Gaudi's masterpieces.

mosaics

 I had no idea how long it would take to get to Park Guell. I didn’t feel like figuring out mass transportation so we walked to the taxi queue at the end of the block. Taxis in Barcelona are super easy to take. You can’t hail them as you would in London, Paris, or New York City. Rather, you hire one at the well-marked taxi stands that are on nearly every block in pedestrian-heavy areas. Now because I am so clever and did my research ahead of time, I was warned that Gaudi sites have timed entrances and often have hours-long waits. The good news is that most sites sell advanced tickets so I bought ours before we left home.

Since taking a taxi was so efficient, we arrived well in advance of our 11 a.m. reservation and spent a bit of time wandering the tacky tourist shops in the neighborhood. Imagine my surprise when we finally got in line and learned that I had purchased the wrong tickets?! Apparently, one buys tickets to the park, which includes free admission to Gaudi’s house, or one buys tickets to the house, which does not include admission to the park. The website is a little unclear on this, but still I thought I selected the correct option. We were all a little bummed, but we were also really tired and hot so made the most of being inside with a moderate amount of air conditioning. And, the house did not disappoint.

The park was originally intended to be a "garden city" and would have had homes that featured the latest amenities, situated as far away as possible from the pollution of urban industry. Only two houses were built; neither one was designed by Gaudi, although he did move into one. That house (pictured below) is now a museum that features plans, furniture, and his death mask.

Gaudi's residence

bronze object

a mirror under bench showed back details

that arch will make a reappearance

ceiling tiles and lovely stained glass lamp

The Monumental Zone of the park has been described by Rough Guide Barcelona as "an almost hallucinatory expression of the imagination." You absolutely cannot see the magnificently tiled creatures from the top terrace. What you can see is a representation of the fantastical structure, heavy with vines and foliage.

And the spires of Sagrada Familia under the cranes.

 

At this point I felt dehydrated and the internal vibrations that accompany lack of sleep. We hit the taxi queue and went back to the hotel for naps. Sleep for just an hour--with another hour of snoozing--rejuvenated each of us enough to be able to make it until an early bedtime. Next, we needed to eat again, and, because we were in Barcelona, a tapas meal was in order. There are so many tapas restaurants on Passeig de Gracia alone, how does one choose? We were hungry and pretty much picked the first restaurant with outdoor tables and a visual menu: Tapa Tapa.

menu

truita de patates (potato tortilla) and Fuet de Vic (dry sausage)

anchoves de l'Escala amb oli verge (marinated white anchovies in smoked pimento & olive oil)

In addition to the tapas pictured above, we also ordered calamars a la romana (calamari, Roman style, i.e., fried), croquetes de pernil iberic d'agla (croquettes with Spanish ham), pebrots del Padro (small, mild grilled peppers), and tall Erdinger (German) beers. I love this style of small plates eating. Most of the food was inhaled before I could even snap a picture, which meant that the boys dug small plates, too. The menu was vast and many tapa went untried. We were here only for a snack.

Eixample's grid (photo credit: expatedna)

A post-meal walk around the Dreta de l'Eixample (right side of the Eixample) neighborhood served to revive and exhaust us in equal measure. Eixample means "extension". It was built in the 19th century on a grid system of wide, tree-lined boulevards, which stood in sharp counterpoint to the twisty, narrow, dark streets of the Barri Gotic (Gothic Quarter) and El Raval areas. The wide sidewalks even accommodate a taxi lane, which wasn't very obvious and meant that one really must watch where they walked and how they crossed streets at all times.

Passeig de Gracia, the grand street of Eixample--think Fifth Avenue or the Champs Elysees--featured luxury clothing stores, fine restaurants, and stylish apartment buildings. The latter served as a huge draw for me. As the Ruta del Modernisme (the Modernist Route), Passeig de Gracia was a showcase for Gaudi's and other's architecture.

walk of architectural stars

La Padrera (Gaudi)

ironwork details

Casa Battlo (Gaudi)

some organic forms resembled bones and joints

Casa Amatller (Cadafalch)

St. Jordi slaying the dragon at Casa Amatller

even the underneath part of a balcony is beautiful

Casa de les Punxes (house of spikes by Cadafalch)

Before we left home, we visited with some friends who had rented in apartment in the Eixample neighborhood recently. They recommended several restaurants and a great ice cream place. Hot and tired, once again, we searched for the ice cream place. Between my jet lag and occasional inability to accurately read my phone's GPS, we walked for a long time in the wrong direction. We saw nothing interesting. We never found the ice cream place, which also happened to be one of the best places in the city for orxata (Catalan for horchata, but made here with tiger nuts) and would have been super refreshing. Instead, we worked up an appetite for dinner and decided we should quickly find a restaurant.

El Nacional had been recommended by our friend Colin. Using our GPS and landmarks that were now familiar after walking PdG several times, we found the building. El Nacional was in a 19th-century industrial building that was off the street, tucked down a passage. The interior space boasted vast barrel-vaulted ceilings and had the vibe of a brasserie with lots of brass and glass and dark wood. This multi-space restaurant represented a new concept for Barcelona--four eating areas and four bar areas (beer, wine, cocktails, oysters). Here are the restaurants we had to choose from: La Paradeta (deli style with sandwiches and pastries), La Taperia (tapas), La Llotja (fish/seafood), and La Braseria (meat). For this meal, John chose La Llotja, with the giant blue glass and reed fish sculpture hanging overhead.

grilled turbot was ethereal

crunchy Andalusian-style shrimps eaten heads and all

With full bellies, we rolled back to our hotel and had a solid night sleep. Big plans for the next day!

summer vacation 2015: Spain and Portugal

We did not choose this summer's vacation destination. John's brother, Ben and his little family planned to walk a 300-mile stretch of the Camino de Santiago in northern Spain, from Lograno to Santiago de Campostela. Then, they would somehow make their way down the coast to Lisbon. We were reluctant initially to agree to Portugal in August. It's hot. But there was a little bit of pressure to have the annual summer vacation. John's mom was keen to meet Ben's family in Portugal. John's other brother, Will, who lives with his family in Stockholm, Sweden, agreed to meet us, and Portugal was on.

Unlike other European countries where we have rented houses over the past 11 years, Portugal didn't seem to have many homes that could accommodate up to 16 people. A location near Lisbon was requested, and so I looked in the bedroom/resort communities of Cascais and Estoril. But even in February, nearly every home I found on vrbo was booked. We did eventually find a home close to the beach in Cascais and booked our flights and installed Duolingo on our smartphones and ordered travel essays, guidebooks, and maps.

As we were purchasing airline tickets, we learned that it cost less to arrive in almost any major European city and depart from Lisbon rather than fly roundtrip to/from Lisbon. Madrid is close (a one hour flight from Lisbon), and we debated spending a few days there, walking off jetlag and getting some time for just our little family. Barcelona is a two-hour flight from Lisbon. Both cities have tapas, but only Barcelona has Gaudi. Barcelona won. We would spend two days there for architecture and tapas.

During the five-month wait, I delved into the travel guides to familiarize myself with the broad arch of Portuguese history that included Romans and Moors, the Crusades and the Inquisition, explorers, dictators and now a place in the EU. I read Philip Graham's The Moon, Come to Earth, a collection of essays about the year his family lived in Lisbon that he wrote for McSweeney's. I delved into Jose Saramago's Journey to Portugal, a comprehensive tour of every region in the country, written in a third-person omniscient point of view. And we talked to friends who had been in Barcelona recently to learn about restaurants, neighborhoods, and the good ice cream shops. I wrote comprehensive packing lists so as not to forget chargers and converters and comfortable shoes. We sticky-tabbed the travel guides with more sights to see than was realistic. We sent each of the boys off to camp (Winston for a two-week session at Icaghowan and Simon for three week Widgiwagan camp that included nine days on trail in the Absoraka Range of the Rockies). And, I snuck in a quick roadtrip through the eastern part of South Dakota with a dip into North Dakota with a friend.

summer vacation 2015: home sweet home

We have been home since Monday evening, but I am still mostly operating in a fog. Last night I woke only once--at 3:30 a.m.--and am feeling better rested than I have all week. Re-entry is nearly as difficult as dealing with jetlag when traveling abroad. Plus, I'm trying to stay in the vacation headspace as long as I can, both to remember all the details and to stay relaxed.

While we were away, the bike/walk path on the St. Paul side of Mississippi River Boulevard was re-paved. August and I have already explored. We also noticed evidence that summer will soon end. I'm not ready.

long holiday weekend

This morning, John and I delivered youngest son to the bus that would take him to camp. He will be gone for two weeks of unmitigated fun.

Winston before camp, already looking nut brown

I am less anxious about his absence than son number one, who is backpacking in the Rockies through Camp Widjiwagan.

Absaroka Range (a potential backpacking location for Simon's group)

Although I know intellectually that Simon is in Montana (I am assuming he has arrived by now), I have no idea of his precise location. There are two possible locations in the Gallatin National Park where his group might spend their two weeks on trail--the Absaroka Range or the Spanish Peaks. Both are gateways to Yellowstone, and all the pictures I have seen online are stunning.

Yet, the uncertainty has kept me up at night on more than one occasion over the past week. The Gallatin National Park website has two announcements that I find disconcerting, though not surprising: 1. grizzly and black bears are found throughout GNP, and 2. dry conditions mean forest fire alerts. Naturally, my anxiety is on overdrive. John keeps reminding me that no news is good news, which is some small comfort. It's all I have. Well, that and the knowledge that Simon was excited for this adventure. I hope he is safe and having a fun time.

Simon, 15

John had work off on Friday for the observed July 4th holiday. We took Winston to the American Swedish Institute with us.

We enjoyed an exquisitely delicious lunch at Fika. John commented that he could eat like this everyday. Honestly, so could I. Fika's menu features a midwestern interpretation of  Scandinavian fare with fresh, bright flavors, such as these salt cod-potato fritters and baby arugula salad with roasted tomatoes and bacon.

Then, we toured the Hagstrom guitar exhibit. Although Hagstrom guitars are currently manufactured in China, it is one of two Swedish guitar makers. Founder Albin Hagstrom was an accordian manufacturer. After his son's trip to the U.S. in the 1950s, where he experienced rock 'n' roll, Hagstrom began making guitars with the pearluloid that was used in accordian production. Hagstrom guitars always had a bit of a cult cache, but David Bowie, Frank Zappa, Elvis Presley, Kurt Cobain, and Pat Smear all played them.

Bowie played the Kent

clear-fronted guitar cases hold each guitar

Yesterday was the 4th of July. We were here in the Twin Cities where we kept a low profile. Someone was craving bahn mi, the Vietnamese sandwich, so we ventured to ipho on University Avenue. There were very few cars on city streets or on the freeway, and I was once again reminded of how MSP clears out on summer holidays with citizens fleeing to their cabins. The paucity of automobiles is almost alarming and feels as if we are just coming out of an apocalyptic event. I was also reminded of how the only place to be on the 4th of July is Watertown, SoDak. 

July 4, 2014 at Sunset Drive,  Lake Kampeska

Seriously. You cannot beat Lake Kampeska for R&R on a summer holiday, especially once dusk hits and the fireworks displays around the lake start.

I spent a lot of this holiday weekend reading Andy Weir's The Martian. This book had not been on my TBR list, but so many readers whose opinions I value recommended it. That, and a  few weeks ago, I took the boys to see the Space exhibit at the Minnesota Science Museum. 

Neil Armstrong's gloves from Apollo mission

My Martian

It left a big impression on me, especially all the parts about living on a space station. The book is super page-turning, despite some really technical parts, which, fortunately, I don't feel are essential to understand. But I like the author's castaway story for the 21st century, alternating the stranded astronaut's log entries with a rescue attempt.

For the first time in at least a month, John's band is practicing. August and I are holed up in the den. The U.S. team won the Women's World Cup against Japan. The victory was spectacular. Such a good game and a beautiful way to head into a new week.

Remodel: Day Twenty-Six (And then there was light. A lot of light.)

The electricians installed lighting today. And, wow, did this place get bright.

First, the bathroom got an LED glimpse fixture in the shower

as well as a vanity fixture.

The latter was difficult to photograph because of the angle but also the glare caused obvious problems. Suffice to say, it was centered above the medicine chest.

pendant? chandelier? chandelier composed of pendants?

Then, the LED glimpse lights were installed over the studio, and the vintage pendant cluster was hung with great care and lots of tweaking to get the length just so.

These photos are teasers. I am running to a board meeting and look forward to snapping some better shots when the scaffolding and protective covering is removed.

Remodel: Day Twenty-Five

The carpenters were here today. Lots of sawing happened. It was loud, but their results were transforming. Again, I took this photos late in the day, and the only light was from the flash on my phone. Not bad, eh?

Floor trim + dirty wall

Linen closet (that bottom section will have a door)

In anticipation of the electrician's work tomorrow, I picked up our light fixture at Architectural Antiques, where I was told, "The more we touch this, the more we damage it." Argh. Each of the lamp shades was covered in bubble wrap so I didn't take a look. Apparently, the crack got darker when the adhesive was applied. Emily at Arch Antiques is going to keep an eye out for a replacement shade, and I plan to enlist the help of a fellow UMN College of Design alum who is a lighting designer. It's worth a shot.

Remodel: Day Twenty-Four

Winners of the Third Event

Happy Monday. I spent the entirety of the weekend at the St. Paul Curling Club watching Simon and his three team mates participate in the Kyle Satrom Bonspiel. They had three six-end matches on Saturday and one on Sunday, which was regulation play. Their collective points qualified them for the Third Event championship, which was a playoff for 5th place, though I think Third Event sounds much more impressive. The boys won in a match against another SPCC team that they curl with each Saturday. It was thrilling, and I was so proud. Here are some photos:

Simon and Theo (r) watching, waiting as opponents sweep

Simon delivering the rock (Owen & Simon C. sweeping)

An adjacent team measuring. It's THAT precise!

This morning Larry popped in with the trim that will hide the drywall joints at the wall and ceiling. The goal had been to avoid needing trim for a cleaner, more architectural look, but it seems somewhat unavoidable. Larry specified the smallest possible trim, and I think it will look good, more complete. Larry also gave me an update on the week: electricians on Wednesday, plumbers, carpenters. It's all coming together!

Tile now with grout

Nick grouted the tile in the bathroom today, but didn't quite finish. Apparently, the tiles are beveled in such a way that several applications of grout are necessary. He had planned to stay until 8 p.m. to finish, but I'm glad Larry encouraged him to go home. John is sick and less tolerant than usual of all the work and workers and the house's state of disarray. Nick will return on Thursday to finish grouting, and fortunately has enough grouted where the plumbers can do their work, which involves installing fixtures.

Remodel: Day Twenty-Three

Nick stayed late and finished laying all the tile, but I don't have any photos to show for it. He'll be back on Monday to set the grout. That's it for construction reports this week. I plan to spend the weekend at the St. Paul Curling Club watching oldest son and his team compete in the Kyle Satrom Bonspiel. Sweep!

Remodel: Day Twenty-Two

Still more tile work today.

the long view from the door frame

almost finished tiling

racing stripe

Yet another plumber arrived today to install the new kitchen faucet set. Since I requested a replacement, I thought the set would more closely resemble the existing set. Instead, we got something that was really ugly and out of place. Argh. I told myself that it's temporary--as in two or three years temporary. As long as it works, right? It's come to that. About five minutes into the job, the plumber informs me that the valves are too rusty and are leaking. If I want the faucet installed, the valves will have to be replaced. Of course he should make the necessary repairs. For an extra $300. And, still, my overwhelming emotion is relief. On a roll!