Wandering

Once again, I had attempted to make plans for today, but I think I should quit trying to plan stuff, and just choose a compass direction in which to wander each day.

After a lazy morning and early afternoon, Greg and I wandered over to our local neighborhood market, a couple of blocks away.  It was great, a smaller and cheaper and FAR less crowded version of Boqueria...but because they don't really expect tourists so much up here, fewer people speak English and more people think you can haggle in Catalan. I can't even haggle in English.  I just want to walk in, pay the price marked, and leave.

For that sort of shopping,there is our local supermarket, Caprabo, which Greg and I have nicknamed Crap-Bo. There's nothing really wrong with the place, but the local versions ain't Publix. Still, if you need laundry soap and a box of band-aids, it's as good as anywhere.

When we brought home the fresh berries and apricots from the Mercat, the kids pounced. The berries were literally gone by the time we unpacked the supermarket bag. Do these kids even chew?

We thought we would head up to Poble Espanyol, another tourist trap down in the Montjuic neighborhood. We knew it would be Epcot-like and overpriced, but I'm tired of all the souvenir shops that sell the same junk (none of which I want), so I figured we would try this.

On the way, we stopped at Parc Joan Miro, where Nicky and Greg played on the zip line and climbing structure, I took photos, and Cassie acted like she did not know any of us.

Unfortunately, we got to Poble Espanyol to find that there was some sort of concert/music festival going on, featuring young people covered entirely in tattoos and making out over beers, while older people in leggings printed with marijuana leaves tried to look young.  Groan. Not my scene...not in 20 years.  I reserve the right to dye my hair a cheap red and wear cannabis-related clothing at some point in my life, but I'm not that pathetic yet.

So we backtracked to the Magic Fountains, which start high on the hillside at the MNAC (which translates to national museum of art of Catalonia). MNAC is a giant beast of a palace-building, and while we didn't go inside, the many many many many many levels of fountains were really awesome. Nicky and Greg went to play by the fountains, so Cassie and I wandered to the drinks cart and bought cold things and sat in the shade. She sketched...a soccer player. I don't know how to feel about this.

The museum was a great place to hang out and watch the concert-goers shuffle by, some looking more concert-ready (ahem) than others. The half-dozen or so outdoor escalators allowed us to get up to the terrace of the museum and look out over Barcelona. Nicky ran the stairs instead of taking escalators, which to me is like drinking a bucket of sand instead of cold water. But that's Nicky.

We had planned to be in that neighborhood long enough to watch the fountains do their dance routine (think of multiplying the Bellagio casino by twenty), but the sun doesn't set till after 9pm here, and we couldn't hold out. We came back home and collapsed, and started taking bets on whether my pinky toe is still there or if it just fell off around the Arenas.  I haven't taken off my sick yet, because I'm too damn tired. I made some dinner and flopped.

And here's where I must confess before all my food and wine peeps, that I have not in fact had a real meal in a Barcelona restaurant yet.  Mostly that's because of timing (they don't open till 8-9pm), and partly because Cassie is creeped-out by the fact that there seem to be no children in these places anywhere. Where do kids eat? We don't see many at restaurants. I suspect that the rationale is that every restaurant is absolutely unreasonably expensive, which is the other reason we have been cooking at home. We spent fortunes on meals in Italy, and not even fancy meals, just...decent. Every meal cost us at least $100US, and the prices here are similar.  We haven't gone broke yet, but we will if we keep that up! We have had some great sushi and many bites of random goodness, but we haven't been to tapas or paella places as a family.

Instead of going broke on food, we bought plane tickets to Paris. No, not the train, which cost double. When did the plane start costing half of the train fare? We have a rental in Marais and we are hoping to meet Marc & Erin for lunch next weekend.

I bet Nicky runs the stairs on the Eiffel Tower, the little weirdo.