Barcelona: Sagrada, Picasso, and Magic Fountains

I wish I had a pedometer on during our second day in Barcelona- we must have walked around 7-10 miles. I'm exhausted just thinking about it!

We started our morning with Barcelona's most famous attraction- La Sagrada Familia. We decided to walk the 4 KM there, since we wanted to see more of the city, anyway. I had purchased tickets to see Sagrada Familia about a week before we left (I learned my lesson in Amsterdam with being unable to see the Anne Frank House) and I'm so thankful I did that- the line must have been over an hour long! 

    

The old front vs the new back look like they belong to entirely different churches. The front almost gives the illusion of things melting. The back is very geometrical. Daniel gave the back, geometrical nativity the very artistic term of being "Jesus blockheads" because, well, their heads are all block shaped! 

   

It's taken over a century to be built and is projected to be complete in 2026. I guess there are bound to be several different styles if it takes that long to be built, but it is still strange- it seems like nothing really belongs together! 

   

In the back was an old school house. Gaudi had it built to school the children of all of the builders. 

   

   

The inside all had an incredibly modern feel to it. It didn't look like your typical Catholic church, that's for sure! I loved all of the stained glass- it was just a mosaic of color, there were no depictions of biblical scenes. It gave the impression that there were different colored light bulbs in the church, as the whole area by the window would be illuminated in green, red, or blue.  

 It literally looks like Jesus is ascending into heaven on a parachute. Or I guess if he's on a parachute, would he be descending to Earth? Hanging around the parachute were grapes and candles. It was stunning.

After the church, we walked to a tapas bar and had a Spanish beer, along with tuna, eggs with chorizo and potatoes, padron peppers, and tomato flat bread. It was good, but I was disappointed at this point that we couldn't find as good of food as we did in Madrid. I needed Ashley and Kiko to help us navigate!

Afterwards, we walked to the Picasso Museum. It's free on Sunday afternoons, so we had to wait in line for about 30 minutes. It wasn't bad, though- there were a couple of men playing their violin and accordion, and they were actually quite impressive.

   

I think I'm just not a museum person. I rather be walking around a city than stuck inside a museum. I've also seen a ton of museums at this point, so maybe that's why. The museum was beautiful and in an old gothic building. However, I wouldn't go back if I had to pay (London's free museums have spoiled me). If you want to go to the Picasso museum when it's free (starting at 3 pm on Sundays), go around 2:30. The line gets REALLY long after then and you end up having to wait even longer. 

We took a little afternoon break and went to our flat to enjoy the terrace. Around 8, we headed to Plaza de Espanya for a free "magic fountain" show. Sounded quirky to me, but our host insisted that it was really cool! In typical Spanish fashion, it didn't start until 9:30 PM, so we ate first and then walk the 3 KM there. 

It was crowded, but enjoyable! I'm not sure if it just runs during the summer months, but it is a 15 minute light, music, and water show that runs on repeat from 9:30-11:30 PM Fri-Sun nights.

A very, very full day! I think I have two more Barcelona posts in me, and then I'll get back to normal life in London!

Arriving to Barcelona

We're back, a bit more sunburned than we left and with very, very sore feet. We were in Barcelona for the past few nights and loved it! We took hundreds of pictures and managed to do so much that I am trying to figure out how to best organize my blog posts. 

First, our flat. I always look forward to checking out our flat once we arrive. They have all been so different and give a little taste of what it is like to truly live in the city. Our Barcelona flat truly did not disappoint. What it was lacking in size, it made up for with perfect panoramic views and design (Seriously, I want this chick to come decorate our house. She had awesome taste). 

 We had a small studio, with this winding staircase that led to our rooftop terrace. We would go to the market, buy some jamon, manchego, and cava, and spend hours on the roof everyday. It was definitely my favorite thing about our trip to Barcelona!

       

Other than simple cheeses and meats, the market also had pigs head, tongue, and lots of questionable meats. We are adventurous, but decided to pass on the heads. 

 I thought we'd spend more time on the beach, but we only checked it out on the day of our arrival. It was warm but windy! And so crowded! We enjoyed walking around, stopping at beach bars, and people watching. 

 Sangria made with Cava. Was a little too sweet for my liking, but still refreshing to sip on while on the board walk.

Lots of musicians in Barcelona! This was one we listened to for a bit while on the beach. 

  

 Other than checking out the beach, we also explored the Gothic Quarter once we arrived, since it was where our flat was situated. It was interesting just meandering through the narrow, winding streets. Although we weren't looking for it, we found the Barcelona Cathedral and decided to take a peak.

   

True story: I didn't even try to go into the cathedral. I was wearing shorts and figured it wouldn't be appropriate to go in (and honestly, kept seeing other gals in shorts get turned away from going inside, and didn't want to face humiliation). So Daniel went in while I stayed outside. So take note, if you are going to Europe and want to check out churches, make sure you are not in shorts or a dress that is above knee length. It sounds like a no brainer, but when it is 85 degrees and you're spending your whole day walking around in the heat, you don't think about wearing your Sunday best!

In front of the cathedral was a full on band playing what I am guessing to be traditional Catalan songs. People, mostly local seniors, would get in circles and dance to the music, placing their purses and backpacks in the center of the circle. The dance consisted of them just slightly moving their feet while holding their arms up. I'm sure their arms got tired!

So, that was a very full half day in Barcelona! I'll write more in the next couple of days about Sagrada Familia, Picasso, the best view in Barcelona, and, of course, the FOOD (because what is a vacation post from me without a detailed account of what we ate?!). 

Brighton Beach

This past weekend was a long weekend for us, as we had a bank holiday on Monday. We knew that we wanted to take a day trip somewhere, so we ended up going to Brighton, a beach town about 50 minutes south of London. 

I was skeptical about what to expect. Local Londoners like Brighton, but I think it's how a local Houstonian would view Galveston- there's nostalgia there, but would you recommend it to a tourist? Probably not. Like Galveston, Brighton is known to be a little seedy, and to be honest, Rick Steves doesn't even mention Brighton in his England tour book, so I went with a bit of doubt. 

One of the main attractions is Brighton Pier. It's kind of like Kemah, but much older and ricketier. Daniel wouldn't go on a ride, in fear that it would malfunction and he would plummet to his death. 

Brighton is known for its "Brighton Rock" candy. I'm sure it's delicious, but I didn't try any. I was for some reason expecting poprocks or those rock suckers.

After strolling around the pier, we walked along the pebble beach. It wasn't nearly as crowded as we thought it would be, considering it was a bank holiday weekend. It was so relaxing hearing the waves and seagulls. I am a beach bum at heart.

  

 Although the rocky beach was a bit annoying to walk on, it was very smooth to sit on. The rocks were nice and warm, and we could have sat on the beach for hours. But thankfully we didn't, or our skin would have melted off.

We walked past two weddings, and one was in the pavilion in the above picture. We spotted some traditional British fashion-woman with huge fascinators, men wearing kilts, gentlemen wearing top hats and velvet blazers. 

The water was freezing! I don't know how these people could manage to go in. Really, the day was a bit cold. Warm sunshine, but a bighting wind made it about 55 degrees. That's why we didn't feel our skin burning.

 No, I'm not "Double Fisting" (which, side note, never say that term in England. It means something completely different and horrifically sexual. I learned that the hard way). I'm just holding both of our Kronenbourgs while Daniel takes pictures.

On our way back to the train station, we walked by The Royal Pavilion. King George began building it in the late 1700's. Its Indian style makes it stand out in the mostly Victorian city, but I like how unique it is for English architecture.

   

I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed Brighton, but I wouldn't recommend more than a day there unless it is warm enough to really lay on the beach for awhile. And go, knowing this is a town where the Brits go for an easy vacation, but not necessarily where a tourist would go (I'd go to Bath or Cambridge before Brighton if I only had a short amount of time in England). It's gritty and not as well groomed as other English cities, but it has a beach, so I'm sold! 

Sunburnt in London

When Daniel and I moved her in July, it seemed like the sun had absolutely no effect on our skin here. The weeks leading up to the move, we were at the pool, beach, or river and our skin had a healthy amount of color. In London, we could be outside all day long in the sun and our skin color wouldn't even get a shade darker (or redder). 

Well, fast forward through months of virtually no sun to about 4 hours of sunshine, and you get this:

Sighhhhhhhh. It was 55 degrees. I had to wear a sweater, for God's sake. We were outside for probably 4 hours. And now my neck and face are redder than a lobster.

Ironically, we had been making fun of all of the beet-faced English people outside getting burnt so easily. And little did we know, our skin was just as burnt as theirs.

I almost wish my arms and chest got burnt, too, just to even the color out a bit. I currently look ridiculous in anything other than a turtleneck.

The best part is, I wasn't wearing any make-up other than a dab of concealer on a pimple I was trying to hide. No hiding it any more- there is a pale ring proudly highlighting my lovely zit now!

And now I am terrified at the prospect of what will happen to my skin once we move back to Texas. EEK!

Pissed as a Pirate

I'm writing to you with my tail between my legs and sad, sad puppy dog eyes. I'm sorry I've been such a bad blogger. I really don't have any excuses other than I just haven't felt like writing. I hope this post will make up for it!

Since I don't really have any pictures to go along with the story I'm about to share, I hope these random pics of my stroll in Golders Green Park will do. Imagine me basking in the sunshine, slurping down a cone full of dark and mint chocolate gelato (as opposed to going for the run I was prepared to do) all whilst telling myself that I'll be a healthier person after _______ (it keeps changing. I think I'll just settle on being a healthier person once we move back).

OK, on to my story that has nothing to do with the previously shown pictures.

On Tuesdays, I take Michael to Tae Kwon Doh and have an hour to kill while he's kicking, punching, and hiy-ahing. There's a cute, trendy little boutique nearby called One Seven One. Picture old wood floors, exquisite Parisian silk tops, and snooty, skinny sales ladies.

Despite fearing a Pretty Woman type moment happening to me at the shop (I'm a hot, just-biked-up-hill-and-no-my-hair-is-wet-with-sweat-not-rain mess), I go in and try on some overpriced, flowy tops and try not to do the pound to dollar conversion in my head.

These sale girls put a whole new meaning to the word snooty. Dressed in head-to-toe black, hair perfectly straightened and in place, wearing 4 inch heals. They don't even bother to look up from their cell phones when I walk in (I am now thinking that they probably thought I was homeless or something). When I do ask for help, they look up from their phone and in a barely audible, upper class London accent, give me a one worded answer.

Here's the thing about the English. Despite being sometimes snooty, they are always quietly polite. They simply ignore weird behavior. It's an unspoken rule. You don't make conversation with strangers. Someone could be threatening to kill everyone on the tube, and still a British person will quietly mind their own business and pretend like they hear nothing.

SO, my arms are full of impulse buys that I'll regret the next day when this bear of a woman come stumbling into the shop.

She's wearing oversized, highwater green pants with a too tight shirt that is also green, but not the same shade as the pants, but also not enough of a contrast to really go together. Her hair is all over the place and smells to high heaven. She makes me look like I could own this hoity toity shop. And actually confuses me with sales girl.

"Ex...ex....exchuse me, Ay need...ay need...some shoes," the lady slurs to me, leaning her sweaty body on a rack full of $100 tops.

I just stare at her. The sales lady just stares at her. Finally, because it is simply against their DNA to be outright rude, the sales lady walks up to her and asks, "What kind of shoes?"

"Nah, nah, not shoes. AY need...ay need....(she looks around store and spots the jewelery case) some jewels!"

So the sales lady walks her to the jewelry case. And this is the conversation that continues, as the drunk tries on random baubles.

"But...but....ish it shtretchy?"

"Yes, it stretches to fit your wrist."

"But....can I shhhhh stretch is?"

"Yes"

"But...but...how...how ishhhh it shhtretchy?"

"The material."

"Oh. Will....wiillll....will I be...alllllergic to the shttretchy?"

"I'm not sure. Other people react to jewelry in different ways. Are you sensitive to different metals?"

"Yeshhhhh! Yesh I'm sensitive! I'm very sensitive!"

"To  certain metals?"

"Ohhh....(falls over jewelry case). That one. I like that one. Give me that one."

The high class sales lady pulls out this ugly, fake gold ring displaying a massive, knuckle covering green crystal. And she actually proceeds to let this crazy lady try it on.

At this point, I'm just sitting on a chair, watching the show, holding my purse close to my side. I think the lady is going to drunkenly run out with the ring on her finger, but no, she stumbles to a mirror and admires her newly adorned finger.

"I like thishhh ring. I'm buying thishhh ring."

Then, her eyes fall on me, and to the other staring sales ladies, and she says, "I'm so sorry, girls. I'm simply pissed as a pirate right now", starts to gag, recovers without puking all over the store, buys the ring, and stumbles out to the next high end boutique.

I look at the sales ladies with huge eyes, just waiting for something to be said. But nope, they act like nothing out of the ordinary has just happened, just ask me if that'll be all, and ring up my blouse. Because the English can never be anything other than polite.

I laugh thinking about the pissed as a pirate woman waking up the next day to an itchy finger, confusedly staring at the green rock weighing her hand down, wondering if it is simply a figment of her alcohol-induced imagination, and then going back to bed, all while wondering where in the hell did she find this bauble at?

The people of London will never stop being entertaining.