Link love: Things to do in Barcelona

Ready to soak up some culture in Barcelona? ;)

I’ve got a whole bunch of half-written blog posts on places I’d recommend to take visitors, but since those aren’t quite ready yet, I’ll share a few resources I’ve found helpful over the last few months:

+ Le Cool: A mix of art, culture & shopping.

+ BarcelonaYellow: All sorts of info, from nightlife to apartment rentals to transportation.

+ The Spain Scoop: Travel advice & tips, especially helpful for folks making a long-term move.

+ BCN Week: A weekly newsletter on events, culture & politics.

+ Barcelona Life: Even more info on nightlife, restaurants, entertainment & more.

What am I missing? Tell me your favorite Barcelona sites & ‘zines.

podcasts, books & recommendations

I’ve been listening to more podcasts than reading lately, but finding good stuff in both places. On my current podcast playlist:

• On Being
• DoubleX Gabfest by Slate
• Here’s the Thing with Alec Baldwin
• Notes in Spanish
• Coffee Break Spanish

Recently read:

• Just After Sunset by Steven King
• Help, Thanks, Wow by Anne Lamott

Books in progress:

• A General Theory of Love by Thomas Lewis, Fari Amini & Richard Lannon (re-reading it)
• This is How You Lose Her by Junot Diaz
• Why Have Kids?: A New Mom Explores the Truth About Parenting and Happiness by Jessica Valenti (been slowly reading a chapter here & there for months now)

Books recommended by friends that I’ve added to my list:

• Scent of God by Beryl Singleton Bissell
• Blood, Bones & Butter by Gabrielle Hamilton
• Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter

Goal update: I’ve read 39 books in 2012.

What are you reading right now? Any recommendations?

Crappy excuses I tell myself when I don’t want to run

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. I’m still feeling plowed by events in America, and though I know a run usually helps my state of mind, it took every bit of will power to get my butt out the door.

It got me thinking about all of the crappy excuses I tell myself when I don’t want to run – and all of the things the devil’s advocate in me says back. (Do the rest of you have ongoing inner dialogues when it comes to exercise and responsibilities and to-do lists?)

Here’s a rundown (har har) of my most common running excuses …

Excuse: I’d rather stay snuggled up in bed with a book.
Counterargument: Vitamin D and fresh air will be invigorating!

I try to remind myself that this is the first winter in five years that I’ve been exposed to so many days of sunshine! Since I’m skipping Portland’s winter (and subsequent gray skies), I should take advantage of beautiful (mostly rain-free) winter runs in Barcelona.

It was 59 degrees and sunny when I ran stairs today. This was my view.

Excuse: I feel too fat to run.
Counterargument: You’re not fat; you’re lazy. Also, discomfort is good for you.

I don’t own a scale so I don’t know what I’ve gained in Barcelona, but my body has changed a bit. I’ve indulged in more bread and wine than normal, and I’ve gotten a little soft. I don’t really mind all that much (we’ll see how I feel when summer rolls around), except I do mind when I’m running because I feel slower and out of shape. Of course, I’ll only improve the situation by getting in shape so I’m better off shutting up and getting moving.

Look! Last summer, I actually had, like, sculpted arms. No such reality now.

Excuse: I’d rather go to a café and eat pan con tomate.
Counterargument: You can eat bread after you run.

It’s probably not the best idea to bribe myself with bread (see aforementioned bread-indulgence-softness issue), but I totally do it. And it totally works.

At the risk of embarrassing myself … There is actually a perk to over-indulging in bread: more junk in the trunk! I may be getting softer all over, but at least I’m also getting something of a butt.* (I give you license to make fun of me for saying that.)

Excuse: I don’t have enough time.
Counterargument: Are you fucking kidding me?

This is a really rich excuse because I only work 16 hours per week here, though that doesn’t factor in travel time to work and private classes (and lesson planning). In any case, I certainly have time to fit in a 40-minute run. It simply involves spending a little less time on Twitter, lingering over coffee for a bit less time, and, you know, setting an alarm so I actually wake up at a reasonable hour in the morning.

Excuse: My IT band feels tight.
Counterargument: Well, that’s unfortunate. But that’s not a reason not to run; that’s a reason to stretch more.

I’ve gotten really good at putting off runs when my legs feel wonky. But my legs feel wonky because I’m not doing any strength training or stretching. It might also be time to replace my New Balance Minimus shoes; though they don’t have a ton of mileage on them, they break down more quickly than cushioned shoes. But, really, I don’t think this is a shoe issue. I think my IT band is tight because I’m not taking time to stretch or protect my quads and glutes. New Year’s resolution #1: make time for lunges, squats and planks.

Excuse: Running is boring.
Counterargument: So, turn around and come back when you get bored.

I actually don’t think running is boring (unless we’re talking about really long runs); it’s just getting out the door that’s the most difficult for me. Once I’m moving and listening to music, I get in a groove. So when this excuse crops up, I promise myself that I can turn around and come back whenever I’d like, and this effectively gets me to run for at least 30 minutes, if not more.

Spill: What excuses do you tell yourself? And how do you convince yourself to get out the door (or to the gym)?

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* I mean, I’ve still got a ways to go until I’ve got this kind of junk in the trunk, but I’m workin’ on it. (Don’t mistake my meaning here! I’m saying junk in the trunk is a *good* thing. Most of us ladies want some shape!)

There is no way to make sense of the tragedy – or to understand conservative Republicans in America

22 Dec. | Update: Please understand that I wrote this under the influence of confusion and anger, that my blog sometimes functions as a place for me to work out my feelings, and that I am far (far!) from an expert on any of the below topics. I stand by my views, but for better, wiser, stronger posts, please see these:

• Our stories matter because we matter by Brene Brown
• I am Adam Lanza’s Mother by Liza Long
• Safe From Harm by Erin Kissane

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Warning: Full-blown, semi-coherent RANT ahead. I am mad, and I’m not being polite or perky or appropriate today.

It’s a beautiful day in Barcelona. Sunny, in the low 60s. The city is full of holiday spirit: Christmas craft stalls, flower stands, marching bands.

But I feel thousands of miles away.

My mind keeps wandering to the shootings at Sandy Hook School in Connecticut. I can’t make sense of it, and so I read all the news stories I can find, bewildered and sickened and so sad.

Why am I gaping at story after story with the same horrific details? To try to find something that’ll settle my thoughts? To see if there are any words to express what the families are going through and how they’ll ever move forward?

I’m looking in the faces of the children in Barcelona more than ever. They are so innocent, so fresh-eyed and so, so sweet. I cannot fathom how anyone could shoot a child.

Since I heard the story on Friday night, I’ve wanted to pretend it doesn’t exist. Just days before, there was a shooting in a mall in Portland. And, a day after Connecticut, 50 shots fired at a mall in Los Angeles.

In 2011 alone, there were more than 30,000 deaths by gun violence in the United States. (source)

That means some 85 people are killed everyday in firearm-related incidents (including suicides). (source)

And let’s talk homicide. In 2009, there were nearly 11,500 homicides caused by guns in the U.S. (source) By comparison, there were 2 homicides caused by guns in Japan in 2006, and 11 in 2008. In the UK, there were 18 homicides by guns in 2009. (source)

And I know it’s not just about the guns. It’s about the people; it’s about the culture. But we come from a culture of gun violence. It’s all intertwined.

I’m so angry.

I’m so ashamed of America right now.

I hate that some people ostensibly use the constitution (freedom to fucking bear arms) as an excuse to kill. I hate that we are a nation of people who don’t support gun control. (Yes, many of us do – strongly – but my Facebook feed is rife with bullshit like, Guns don’t kill people. People kill people. Okay, but if those people couldn’t get ahold of their guns so easily, could they do so much damage so swiftly? And if those people could cry for help in other ways, could get access to mental health care cheaply and easily, would it come to this? And if our criminal justice system was one of rehabilitation, would we be able to help people actually heal?)

I want every conservative Republican who’s still not in favor of tighter gun control after Connecticut to be forced to sit in a room with the parents of the dead children and the families of the dead teachers. See the looks in those people’s eyes and then try to tell me that guns don’t kill people.

It is proven that more guns means more murder. (source)

Last I checked, there are 4 states in America where it’s legal to bring a firearm into a bar. And it’s legal to carry a gun into restaurants that serve alcohol in some 15 or more states. You will never convince me that there’s a rational reason for that.

You can tell me until the cows come home that you come from a family of hunters and that your parents taught you all about gun safety. That’s fantastic, but I don’t give shit. That’s not bringing any of these people back to life.

You can tell me that you have a right to “protect” yourself. To which I will say: What the hell are you protecting yourself against if not another fear-crazed person like you WHO ALSO HAS A GUN?! (And, as a caveat, may I also rant for a moment about the fucked up culture of fear in America? People are using senseless acts like Connecticut to start arguing in the opposite direction that we need more guns, that teachers should be armed. You have got to be kidding me. Why are we propagating a culture of fear? How about we work together to improve education and economic equality and cultural tolerance, instead of being god-damned scared shitless all of the time and saying we need guns to keep us “safe?”)

I want to be able to channel my anger toward something more productive, but I can’t bring myself to it right now.

When I first heard the news of Connecticut and saw all of the political posts on Facebook, I posted that we should give space to compassion first.

I’m lacking compassion right now.

I want to try to be compassionate toward the killer’s family, particularly his mother (whom he shot), but I’m not there yet. She didn’t deserve death, but what was happening in his life that she didn’t intervene (or did she try)? Why was he able to get his hands on so many of her weapons? Why did she flaunt her weapons to neighbors like badges of honor?

I want to try to be compassionate toward people with political views different than my own, to respect their right to their beliefs, even if I don’t understand them. But I can’t right now.

I want change in America. I want a future for our country that I can believe in. Now is the time for Obama to step in and change gun laws. We cannot continue to lose so many lives.

My heart goes out to the families of Sandy Hook School and their community. I’m so deeply sorry for your losses.

12/12/12

12/12/12: I love numbers!

Well, it’s actually already 12/13 around here (or 13/12, as the Spanish would write it, forever causing me unwarranted confusion), but who’s counting?

I did a little bit of a blog refresh today and changed my header image to reflect what’s happening these days: less running (and no races), more traveling, the same amount of (daily) chocolate.

And while I updated the blog’s look, I re-read a few posts. It startles me that I wrote this one just over a month ago. Things were a little shaky that day, no?

Reading something like that initially stirs up embarrassment. I don’t really like airing dirty laundry on the internet (even if I do try my best to skirt specific details). (P.S. See how I just used “dirty laundry” and “skirt” in one sentence? That’s a writing no-no because it’s just so devastatingly punchy, but I’m going to leave it in because I’m too lazy to self-edit at the moment.)

But, more than embarrassment, it makes me feel freakin’ proud and resilient. A lot has changed in 5-ish short weeks. To wit:

• I moved to a new apartment, and I fell in love with the neighborhood. I like its vibe. I feel at home here.
• I got hired to do some freelance writing, and it’s putting food on the table! (Yay, income.)
• I made a few new friends and navigated a potentially super stressful housing situation (I’m moving again next month, but sticking to the same neighborhood) without freaking the fuck out.
• I slowed way down emotionally and did some reading & journaling & reflecting (all that stuff I’d been putting off), and I came out on the other side feeling calmer and lighter.
• I went to Istanbul and had my mind blown!

Forging this international path feels good. Finding my way toward contentment feels even better. I hate admitting that I was a wound-up stress case at the beginning of 2012, but I was. And that stress monster haunted me a little bit when I first arrived in Spain.

Now I’m feeling more like me (or the me I’ve wanted to be but couldn’t quite find), and that’s, well, it’s rad.

Bring it on, universe. I’m game.

Fuzzy brain, fumbling words

My friend Jessica wrote a post about making language mistakes & feeling embarrassed that is speaking to me in so many ways today. To be sure, Jess’ Spanish is leaps and bounds beyond mine, but it shows that we all hit a wall of frustration at certain points, no matter how advanced our language skills. We’re not native speakers, and we can’t change that.

I went to Istanbul for the weekend (I loved Istanbul and will write about it soon), and upon returning, it’s as if I’ve completely forgotten how to string together a sentence in Spanish.

This morning, I ran into the yoga instructor that teaches at the little studio next door to my apartment (the studio where I paid for a month of classes). I’ve decided not to renew for December because I’ll be traveling and having a visitor from the states and moving to a new apartment (yet again, more on that later). (And I didn’t really enjoy the style of yoga, but that’s beside the point.)

The instructor said she’d been wondering where I’ve been and asked if I’d be returning to take classes. I meant to say that I’ve been busy and out of town, but might consider it in January.

Instead, I completely fumbled.

I couldn’t get a sentence out. I couldn’t conjugate a verb. I basically spouted a few disconnected words, and she tried to fill in the rest, and I just nodded at what she was guessing, even though it had no bearing on the truth.

By the end of the conversation (if we can even call it that), it’d been determined that I’m leaving Barcelona next week because of money and I’m going back to my home in the states and ending my visit here.

Um, yeah. None of that is true.

I was just so flustered and frustrated that I couldn’t even attempt to get the conversation back on track.

She gave me dos besos and wished me a wonderful Christmas in the states and a good life!

Sheesh.

Inevitably, I’m going to run into her next week – or next month (though I’m moving to a new apartment, it’s just around the corner) – and she’ll be perplexed why the stupid American girl who can’t speak a lick of Spanish is still wandering around the streets and not headed home.

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A little preview of my 3-day trip to Istanbul …

Spanish word(s) I love: copa

As I study Spanish, I come across words that have usage and/or subtle meanings that I love, so I’ve decided to start a semi-regular post series on the blog called Spanish word(s) I love. I promise I’ll make mistakes in usage so don’t go quoting me on anything, but perhaps you’ll be as entertained as I’ve been by the Spanish language.

Today’s word: copa

¿Quieres tomar una copa?

Copa means cup or glass, as in copa de vino (glass of wine). It’s used in other drinking-related phrases, such as:

• tomar una copa = have a drink
• ir de copas = go out drinking
• beber una copa de más = have one too many drinks

It’s also used for:

• Copa Mundial = World Cup
• copa de sombrero = crown of a hat
• copas (de baraja) = one of the four suits in a Spanish deck of cards

And my favorite: como la copa de un pino, which literally translates to “like the crown of a pine (tree)” and is used in the following idioms:

• Él dijo una mentira como la copa de un pino = He told a whopper of a lie.
• Es una idiotez como la copa de un pino = That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.

What do you think? ¿Qué bueno, no? Stay tuned for more nerdy, idiom-filled fun …

Living abroad: 8 things I miss about the U.S. – and 3 things I don’t

Don’t get me wrong, living in Barcelona hasn’t provided the kind of adjustment and culture shock that living in a remote village without plumbing would, but there are definite differences that cause me to celebrate or, at times, grumble. I’m kind of good at grumbling when things tick me off, so I tried not to write this post too early in my adventure, lest I blow everything out of proportion.

Enjoying happy hour over the summer in Portland – and displaying my extraordinarily long shins. (photo by my friend, Jill)

I still have a lot to learn about life here, but I think I’ve gotten enough of a flavor of the city and its tempo to evaluate what I wouldn’t give up, what I could do without, and what I really miss about life in the states. Today I’ll focus on that last part, and in an upcoming post, I’ll speak to the things about Barcelona I’m falling madly in love with.

8 things I miss about the U.S.

1. Food carts. I’m speaking mostly about Portland here, but DAMN, I miss our food carts. We’re spoiled in PDX. Fresh, cheap, delicious, organic food from hundreds of carts, representing every kind of craving and cuisine. Yeah, sometimes too many choices are overwhelming, but what I’d give for a steaming $4 bowl of kale, quinoa, black beans and spicy sauce. Or a drippy delicious egg sandwich from The Big Egg. Or a plate of nachos covered in jalapeños. Or anything covered in jalapeños.

Portland food carts, I love you so hard.

2. My grocery staples. Almond butter, almond milk, turkey breast, vanilla granola, whole wheat tortillas, hot salsa, protein bars. Before you go telling me that I can find substitutions and approximations for all those things, let me stop you. They’re just not the same! (And they’re damn expensive here.) I miss you, Trader Joe’s. I miss you, New Seasons.

3. IPA. You’ve heard me wax nostalgic about IPA, and it’s the truth: I love a hoppy beer. The wine in Barcelona is lovely, but the beer is abysmal. It’s all watered-down, Pilsner-style, flavorless ick. I’ve gotten in no less than three arguments with Europeans – and even an American here – that the beer in Barcelona is better than in the states. Every time, I’m like, But have you been to Portland? No? You haven’t? End of discussion. ;)

Remember that time I found an IPA in Barcelona and got all teary-eyed?

4. Meal times. My preferences are very slowly changing, and sometimes I like the long lunches and late dinners in Barcelona, but for the most part, I miss eating and going out at what felt like “civilized” hours. I know saying that is near blasphemy in these parts, but staying up until 2:00 am every day (or later on the weekends, when people don’t even start the night until after midnight) is catching up with me. There are days I really miss meeting for happy hour at 5:30, eating dinner at 7:00 and making it home in time to curl up on my couch and watch Bravo.

5. My gym membership. I don’t exercise here as much as I’d like, for a number of reasons, one being that I get really bored when I don’t have easy access to a variety of workout options. I miss taking classes like Zumba, Pilates & whatever fancy name they’re calling the weightlifting class these days. Here, monthly gym memberships are really pricy, unless you sign a long-term contract (even then, they’re more expensive than the states), and I can’t sign a contract without having a Spanish identification number.

6. Having a steady income. I guess this one isn’t U.S.-specific, but it’s specific to my experience at home. I took for granted the calm that comes with getting a regular paycheck, knowing how much to expect every two weeks and being able to budget accordingly. My finances are all over the place here, and though I’m learning to deal with the anxiety, it’s not my happy place.

7. Skiing. As winter approaches, I’m getting all bugged out over missing the ski season in Portland. My friends and I had a nice little routine of meeting at the parking lot on weekend mornings, carpooling up to the mountain, stopping for breakfast burritos, beating the crowds to the hill and stopping early in the afternoon for, yes, IPAs. (I have gear, equipment and a ski pass at home so it’s not a big expense the way taking a weekend trip to the Pyrenees – or wherever the closest skiing is – would be here.)

8. Friends & family & football. Of course, friends and family would be on my list no matter which country I’d relocated to. Not seeing friends from home is an adjustment enough, but it’s really the time difference that gets me riled up. It’s a challenge to find times to Skype, and sending texts and emails just isn’t the same. Oh, and have I mentioned how nearly no bars show NFL games here? (Those that do show them inconsistently at best.) I miss watching the Packers and checking my fantasy scores incessantly and acting a fool with my friends. (We can get into a discussion later about how being a football fan maybesortakinda goes against some of my beliefs – and how I could try to get into soccer here in Barcelona – but for now, let’s just leave it at #PACKERNATION and #GOPACKGO.)

Despite appearances, we didn’t even pose for this pic.

3 things I don’t

1. Working a 40-hour week. In my circle of acquaintances here, the 40-hour week is unheard of. And I don’t just mean because work is hard to come by, which it is, but that people choose to work less if given the option. The mentality is so much less work-work-work-move-up-move-up-move-up than it is in the states. I love the focus on balance and enjoyment. Life is tranquila, and that pace agrees with me.

2. Driving. The public transportation in Barcelona is legit. I can walk or take the metro everywhere I need to go. It’s fast, it’s cheap, it’s not stressful (except when there’s a transportation strike and trains are running 30% of the time and I’m late to work). ;) I love not worrying about paying for gas, paying for insurance, finding parking, etc. I sort of never want to own a car again.

3. Owning shit. I absolutely love being mobile. No mortgage, no car, no furniture, no accumulation of piles of crap. I love that when I moved from one apartment to another here, I packed up all of my stuff into three suitcases and got on the metro, and that was that. The need to be mobile has also changed the way I shop. I’m not tempted to buy clothes (other than a couple wool sweaters when I realized I didn’t pack anything remotely winter-appropriate) or trinkets or candles or cupcake platters or whatever other shit I used to put into my basket at Target. Maybe this’ll change one day, but I’m digging the simplicity of not having stuff.

Tell me: Have you lived abroad, or are you living abroad now? What sorts of things do you miss about home?

A walking tour of Gaudí’s best in Barcelona

Want to hit up Antoni Gaudí’s most famous Barcelona buildings all in one day? It’s possible on foot, and it’s something I did a couple weeks ago. (Though I pass a few of the buildings regularly and had already been to the others, I wanted to see them back to back.)

Gaudi collage by ok-visit.com

Regrettably, I forgot to take my good camera with me, so you’ll have to deal with iPhone pics, but I’ll also post better pics by others so you can see the full effect.

Allow me (and my knowledge gleaned from Fodor’s!) to take you on a walking tour of Gaudí’s best, including some additional stops along the way.

Note: While these may be some of the more touristy places to see in Barcelona, they’re popular for a reason. They’re pretty special. But I’m also planning a few future posts of less-discovered gems in BNC. Stay tuned. :)

Start your tour: At the foot of La Rambla, close to the sea

Here, nobody says north or south; it’s “away from the sea” and “toward the sea.” So, start your walking tour near the sea, at the foot of La Rambla, and walk up Rambla, away from the sea.

First stop: Plaza Reial

This plaza’s worth a peek for its storied past. Author Gabriel Garcia Márquez, architect Oriol Bohigas, and former president of the Catalonian Generalitat, Pasqual Maragall, were said to have apartments here. I find it a little lackluster compared to other plazas – and its cafés are nothing special (I learned the hard way by buying an overpriced, bad coffee here) – so take a quick peek and then leave. (It’s on the right on La Rambla, about one third of the way up the street.)

Next stop: Boqueria
La Rambla, 91

a pic I took on one of my first visits to the Boqueria

Barcelona has so many wonderful markets, and the Boqueria is one of the liveliest. You can find all sorts of things here: meat, cheese, fresh bread, sweets, fruit, wild mushrooms, hot peppers, nuts, and more. Throughout the market there are also crowded bars where you can muscle your way in for a snack and a glass of cava (or wine or beer, or whatever you fancy). Despite being on one of the most touristy streets in the city, the Boqueria maintains its local appeal.

Continue up La Rambla until you hit Plaza Catalunya at its top.

Next stop: Plaza Catalunya

I’ve never actually spent time in Plaza Catalunya; it’s less than relaxing and basically serves as a central meeting spot in Barcelona. But it’s worth a meander and moment to collect your thoughts. (Do I sound like a tour guide or what?)

Look back toward the sea, and you’re looking toward Barcelona’s old town: the Gothic district and La Ribera (referred to more commonly as El Born). Look away from the sea, and if you can look past the monstrous Corte Ingles, you’re looking toward the more modern L’Eixample.

On the northwest side of the plaza, find Passeig de Grácia and head north (away from the sea). ;)

Next stop: Casa Batlló and CASA Amatller
Passeig de Gràcia, 43 and 41

I love Casa Batlló (on the right) and its equally stunning neighbor, Casa Amatller (which isn’t a building by Gaudí). Casa Batlló, restored by Gaudí and partners, is like a Willy Wonka building: all candy-colored and shaped.

My blurry pic …

… and another angle by sincretic (on Flickr)

Apparently, the skulls and bones on the balconies represent the victims of the Dragon of Evil, and the scales of the rooftop represent the dragon’s body, having been killed by St. George.

A look inside will cost you a hefty 17€. (My cheap ass, therefore, has not been in!)

CASA AMATLLER

picture by edomingo (on Flickr)

To Casa Batlló’s left you’ve got Casa Amatller, designed by Josep Puig i Cadafalch, who also served as mayor of Barcelona. The building’s facade includes a sculpture of a princess, said to be the architect’s daughter, and animals pouring streams of chocolate, a nod to the house’s original owner, a chocolatier.

picture by Sarmale (on Flickr)

Casa Amatller isn’t open to the public.

Continue north on Passeig de Grácia; the next stop is on the right side of the street.

Next stop: La Pedrera, aka Casa Milà
Passeig de Gràcia, 92

picture by me, while I dodged traffic

La Pedrera means The Stone Quarry, and it’s an apt name for this building, with its wavy facade and wrought-iron, kelp-shaped balconies. The roof was originally meant to hold a sculpture of the Virgin Mary, but the building owner, Pere Milà i Camps, asked for a design change, and now the building’s colorful chimneys are some of the Gaudí’s most recognized work.

picture by Mary Hutchinson (on Flickr)

You can pay 16.50€ if you’d like to go inside – and up to the roof.

La Pedrera sits on the corner of Passeig de Grácia and Carrer d’Arago. Head east on Arago.

Now begins the longest walking section of the tour, so take your time. Said another way, Stop in a café for coffee/red wine and a chocolate croissant! Yum. I’ll wait …

Six long-ish city blocks later, turn left on Passeig de Sant Joan. Head north for three long blocks, and turn right on Carrer de Provenςa. In four blocks, you’ll run into Sagrada Familia and gasp (either because it’s so huge or because that damn thing is still under construction).

Next stop: Sagrada Familia
Plaza de la Sagrada Familia

another iPhone pic, possibly better than my others

So, yes, more than 100 years later, Sagrada Familia is still under construction. It’s monstrous, and it’s controversial.

I’ve been past it at least eight times since I’ve lived here, and I always notice something else upon returning. In fact, it’s meant to be overwhelming to the senses, as it’s supposed to encompass the entire history of the Gospel. Read more about its meaning and symbolism here.

an ominous pic by juanma.castilla (on Flickr)

A visit inside costs 13€, and I’ve heard again and again that it’s absolutely wort the price of admission … but I still haven’t been in.

A pic of the inside by aurelian (on Flickr)

On the northeast side of Sagrada Familia, find the diagonal street called Avinguda de Gaudí. Continue northeast on this avenue until you run into our final stop.

LAST STOP: Hospital de Sant Pau
Carrer Sant Antoni Maria Claret, 167

my partly-shaded picture

I’d jogged by this building a few times before I realized it was a hospital. It’s simply too striking; decorated with mosaics and ceramic tiles, it looks more like a church or really fancy old school. It was designed by Lluís Domènech i Montaner, who also designed the Palau de la Música Catalana and Casa Lleó Morera. If you’d like a tour inside, you can arrange one from 10:00 am – 2:00 pm on the weekends only.

a better picture by Claudi.cat (on Flickr)

Another pic by Claudi.cat

And there you have it. Pretty good all for a half day’s walk, right?

If you’ve got energy to burn, hop on the metro (stop: Lesseps, then walk ten minutes uphill) or take a cab to Park Güell, Gaudí’s infamous city garden.

Coming soon: An architectural tour of the Grácia neighborhood :)