After we landed in barcelona we took a taxi to our hotel because we somehow ended up exiting the airport right in front of a taxi stop. Once we checked into our hotel and settled in we got on the confusing and inconvenient metro only to randomly end up exiting at la rambla. For those who haven’t been to la rambla or haven’t even heard about it (because I hadn’t until I was actually there,) la rambla is like third street promenade in santa monica on crack.
It’s the street with a huge pedestrian pathway filled with everything from flower booths to weird people in costume posing for money to pet shop booths which sold selling everything, including pigeons. There also are actual shops and restaurants all along the street, including two mcdonalds.
We basically just walked down la rambla and came across the big outdoor market called la boqueria. By outdoor market I mean a hundred booths selling different fruits, veggies, meats, fish, and even eggs next to each other under a huge tent.
It was pretty spectacular and my mouth was watering the whole time, except maybe when I walked by the seafood part that smelled, well, like seafood. The fruits looked perfect, the chocolates I saw beats sees candy any day and the hanging dried pig thighs were surprisingly delicious looking.
We finished walking through the market and then continued walking down la rambla until we pretty much hit the coast. Before we walked down the pier/dock area, I saw a monument surrounded by lions. Apparently, I handed dorene my camera and told her “I’m going to mount that lion and you’re going to take a picture of me.” All I remember is asking her to take a picture, but she still laughs just thinking about what I supposedly said.
Let’s just say, the actual mounting of the lion part ended up being quite difficult. Of course dorene got jealous/I told her it was her turn and she mounted my lion as well.
After our barcelona lion experience, we walked down this modern pier and I couldn’t get over how pretty everything looked from the water to the sailboats to all the different lights. Dorene couldn’t stop saying how it looked like a backdrop.
We had our first set of tapas and pitcher of sangria for the night (and yes I said for the night) at this place on the pier. We had fried potatoes covered with sauce, ham croquettes, and “guacamole.”
The couple next to us felt bad for us trying to take pictures of each other, so they asked if we wanted our picture taken. They ended up being two older teachers from seattle who had once lived in los angeles. It left good being able to speak english to strangers, god I hate spanish. Best part was running into them the next day in the Picasso museum and the day after that on a bus. Luckily I’ve mastered the “pretend I can’t see you” look, so we avoided saying hi.
Once we were done we started our walk back up la rambla and stumbled upon a random plaza. The plaza was lined with all sorts of restaurants with a fountain in the middle. We decided to go to the only restaurant with a line because we assumed it had to be that good, and it was. There we (or should I say dorene) had another pitcher of sangria (you have to realize that sangria is cheaper than water in spain), more croquettes, some chicken, and veggies, in an attempt to be healthy.
In this restaurant I learned a big lesson, don’t stare at other people’s food because sometimes they’ll notice and start talking to you. At one point there was an older man sitting behind us and I just happened to notice that his sangria had apple slices in it while ours didn’t. Perhaps I was looking at it a little too long, because all of a sudden, I heard him offer me some. You could tell the guy was bored and alone because he felt like talking to me about everything, from the economy to how to make sangria and how he uses huge buckets to make it when he has people over. I tried extracting somewhat useful information from him like where a good place to eat was or where we could go tomorrow night. He attempted to help but between him being half drunk and lost in translation, I wasn’t able to get much.
Forty-five minutes and one shared dessert later (he insisted we try the profiteroles he ordered for dessert, we each had our own fork, don’t worry) we were able to escape his company and started back up la rambla, headed for our hotel. All in all it was a great night, I mean how can a night with two dinners not be great?
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