I know, I know. It’s been a long ass time since my last post. I assume all responsibility for this massive lack of updating. But I’ve been busy, and I’ll tell you all about the shit I’ve been up to.
I’ve realized a couple things. First of all, the two most prevalent things in Barcelona are (1) scooters and (2) dogs. Seriously, everywhere I fucking turn there is someone riding a scooter, whether on the street or sidewalk (people just kind of DGAF – Don’t Give A Fuck – and park them anywhere, kind of cool if you ask me), or someone walking a dog (usually sans leash – is
Cesar Milan from Barça?). Don’t get me wrong, both are just fine, but they are EVERYWHERE. Additionally, aforementioned canines wear little doggie clothes (they have a
surprisingly extensive wardrobe ranging from tiny sweaters to Messi jerseys) and seem to have some kind of intrinsic sixth sense for shitting anywhere I later intend to walk upon. Or maybe, dogs are far smarter than I give them credit for and it’s a fine-tuned worldwide conspiracy in which they’ve spent years tracking my movements in order to calculate the most strategic spots to shit with the single, diabolical goal of me constantly stepping in their feces. I bet they get a good goddamn laugh out of that. But, dogs can’t particularly laugh -- at least I don’t think so -- and in all reality there are probably just a lot of fucking dogs in this city. No big deal. Dogs are awesome.
I have a few home that I kick it with and they're pretty cool. Total bitches though. Did you guys see what I just did there?
Moving on.
It’s February now, and it’s cold and rainy. Weird, right? I came her with the naïve assumption that I would be able to step off the plane into 85 degree (Fahrenheit, I don’t fuck with Celsius just yet) weather with the sun shining every day. For the most part, it’s sunny out – but there’s been this cold front moving through and we even had some snow flurries yesterday morning. We had FLURRIES, and people freaked the fuck out. Some schools even closed. Mine didn’t. What the hell? We have to have damn near a foot of nieve en el suelo in Nebraska to cancel classes, but in Barça? The weather dips DANGEROUSLY CLOSE to freezing and – honest to Dios – it’s like the people here think a blizzard is imminent. Apparently last time there was light snow the city just flat out collapsed. Public transit shut down, no one could drive their tiny European cars anywhere due to fear of accidents, school was cancelled, work was cancelled, and no one had any idea what to do. Luckily for the good, hard working people of Barcelona, we escaped the shitstorm that could have been yesterday. The sun came out today, and all was right in the world.
But enough about the terrible, cold weather. How stereotypical of a space filler was that?
My last post seems like weeks ago. OH YEAH. IT WAS. My bad. But, it’s cool. Like I said, I’ve been up to all kinds of shit. And this post will include ALL OF IT. This is the part where you should prepare yourself for a long ass read, complete with photos. And don’t just look at the pictures either, cabrón. That’s what I did in elementary school, and due to that I can still only read at a fifth grade level. Kind of depressing, actually. So grab some snacks and a drink or five and settle in.
Ready? Good.
A couple weeks ago, the 11th to be exact, we took an ISA-organized tour of the Gothic Quarter – El Barrí Gotíc. This is arguably one of my favorite areas in the city, as everything around you has that old history-has-happened-here kind of feel. Cathedrals and shit on every corner. Cool stuff we’re dealing with here. Anyway, this woman (I feel bad for forgetting her name – she’s taken us on a couple tours and she’s a sweetheart. Smart as hell too.) led us around some wicked legit architecture, some decent ass looking pillars, and the phenomenal Catedral de Barcelona. If someone needs that last bit translated, I’m surprised you made it this far.
That was kind of a dick thing to say, wasn’t it? ¡Lo siento! My bad. To make up for it, here are lots and lots of photos I took for your viewing pleasure. The first few are actually a few shots I took walking around near Barceloneta (the barrio next to the marina) and La Rambla (the giant avenue/stretch of shops and restaurants in Barça where you can find anything from jerseys to tapas to Pakistani guys selling trying to sell you loose beers and questionable hash). You can tell the Gothic photos start…well…when they start to look Gothic. You’ll see. Check it out.
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| These are some pillars we looked at for like, 30 or 40 seconds. Temple d'August. The temple of Augusto. It was a Roman monument and now...there are buildings around it. Might have been moved. ¡Guau! |
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| Jesus Christ, this place was cool. Doesn't that sentence sound like I'm addressing Jesucristo instead of swearing? |
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| The Cathedral was dedicated to Eulalia de Barçelona, a co-patron saint, and the thirteen geese kept in the courtyard symbolize the fact that she was 13 when was married. Talk about robbing the cradle. |
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| LOL HEY I'M A GOOSE. |
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| Bullet holes left from the days people were executed in this little square. |
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| Eulalia, shown here, suffered martyrdom during Roman times. From Wikipedia: |
"One story says that she was exposed naked in the public square and a miraculous snowfall in mid-spring covered her nudity. The enraged Romans put her into a barrel with knives stuck into it and rolled it down a street (according to tradition, the one now called Baixada de Santa Eulàlia). The body of Saint Eulalia is entombed in the cathedral's crypt."
I took these next new a little earlier in the day.
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| Bad ass Columbus statue. |
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| Yesssss, I went to this concierto. And it was a filthy good time. |
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| Chicks on the "n" totally fucked up this prime photo op. |
Bad ass area, huh? You bet your fucking ass it is. I honestly hope all of you reading this get a chance to see these places in person if you haven’t yet. Total contrast from living in Lincoln to living in a city that (1) is like a museum in and of it self and (2) constantly has things going on night and day. Seriously, it takes every in me to turn down an invitation to go out and about with the ultimate goal of saving a few euro. That, though, does not often happen as I’m here to get out and experience things. And that, Mom and Dad, is how I’ve spent so much money, not to mention hundreds of euro in things such as a gym membership/internet/phone service/more phone service/some clothes/unlimited metro pass/tapas/tapas/tapas/more tapas. Seriously, I really fucking like tapas. Especially patatas bravas. They’re just fried chunks of potato with a delicious sauce on top – maybe aioli? – but they’re great. Also, the seafood here is just flat out “mouthgasm” good. Speaking of, I went to the nicest establishment I’ve been to yet last week in Barceloneta. It was actually called “Barceloneta” as well. My friend Krista had a few friends (from the States) in town who were studying in Rome. These guys – seriously buena gente -- had some cash to blow and came to Barça for the weekend. Also, aforementioned dudes had a club level suite at the Ritz. I stopped by for a couple beers before heading to the restaurant, and it was a quality setup.
So, we walked down the beach to the marina where the restaurant was located. Me, being invited, had no idea where the place was or what kind of place it was. All I knew is that the concierge at the Ritz called it the best paella in the city (I FUCKING LOVE PAELLA) and that it was a nice spot. Brett, one of the Rome amigos, had called ahead and made a reservation. We walked into this place and I immediately got the nice-ass-seafood-joint kind of vibe. You know, where they have a decorative tank along the wall so I can pick which lobster to kill and eat? And I know, I’m starting to do that whole hyphenate-a-few-words-to-use-as-a-single-adjective thing a lot aren’t I? Ehh, whatever. My bad. Anyway, this place was great. I highly recommend it if you’re up to spend a little cash – we each dropped around 25€ on food and the house wine. So, we were seated right next to the serving table where they prepare everyone’s plates after taking the food from the kitchen. Which was awesome, because we had the chance to see every bomb ass, fresh from el mar dish that was being served throughout the restaurant. With the exception of one guy, we all got the paella marisco – the seafood paella. And oh my fucking God. I’m finding it excruciating to type this right now, as I’m currently starving and my mouth is literally watering at the thought of tasting this legendary comida again. I’ll make a return trip before I leave. Seriously, it was like these people had a heart to heart conversation with the various shrimp, scallops, and crayfish on my plate beforehand and told them they better not fuck things up. Either way, they were eaten and cook, but I respect them for tasting so phenomenal. Here’s mi amiga Krista posing with the comida:
On to some other things, I’ve taken a couple other tours aside from the Gothic quarter. Last Saturday, we went to the Picasso museum in the Born area. Seems as though todo el mundo was hungover and uninterested, although it was pretty damn cool seeing this place. We had the same tour guide (god dammit, what was her name???) and she explained every detail of Picasso’s life to a T. Turns out his dad was a total dick. Pretty good way to take out his frustration and daddy issues though, become a world-renowned artist and everything. I wish my parents were terrible people so I could paint masterpieces. Wait, do I? No, no I don’t think I do. But the coolest part about this place was the last couple rooms that included all the sketches good old Pablo did while
remaking Velazquez’s “Las Meninas." Remember when I talked about going to the Prado museum back in Madrid and seeing that shit? No? Well, it was awesome, and the Picasso remake was pretty legit as well. Take a look. Unfortunately, no photography was allowed in here. So, no pics. Sorry ‘bout it.
Fortunately, I also went on a tour where we COULD take pics a couple weeks back. A group of us ISA kids met up and saw the Gaudí museum/apartment building. Essentially, it was a tour of modernism in the city – which essentially consisted of Antonin Gaudí’s iconic creations. Apparently he was commissioned to design this place back in the day, around 1900 I think, by some filthy rich family who lived here. The guy was somewhat of a savant in that fact that (1) he took influences from everywhere --namely the natural world -- thus inspiring his freeform, organic style, and (2) he was a dumbass and died walking into a tram. But, anyway, look at this pictures. They’re legit. In typical Markus style, though, my camera died about halfway through the tour. I didn’t have to tell you that, because you would have had no idea either way. But I’m honest. Usually. Just look at the goddamn pictures.
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| Really cool shit here: Gaudí framed his famous work, La Sagrada Familia, on the roof of the building. |
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| Here you can find come interesting pinecones. Inspriation, I believe. |
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| Muneeb got hungry. |
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| This is supposed to be an ergonomic door knob, but just kind of looks like a dick. |
OH YEAH. My cousin, Will, arrived here last week as well. We planned this whole (prepare yourself for hyphenation) let’s-go-kick-it-in-Barcelona thing together and so far so good. We’d been in contact since he got to Madrid, but the first time I saw the dude was out of nowhere when we unknowingly went to take the Picasso tour together. Straight up, I was just standing there and the dude walks up and is just like…”Hey. Sup?” Real casual like. So that was cool, and we’ve been intermixing our two groups. Always nice to meet some new people, right?
So, shit. What else have I done that’s worth writing about? To be honest, plenty – but I’m going to stick to a few more key events.
Over the past two weeks Barça and Real Madrid (fuck Madrid) have played twice in the Copa del Rey quarter-finals. On that note, we’ve officially found our main spot for watching matches. L’Ovella Negra, “the black sheep,” is a giant, self purported megabar pretty close to my place in the Poblenou area. For the Clásico matches we had to show up at least two hours early to make sure that we could get in. Seriously, about 1000 people or more filled the place during these games, and a majority of the tables were reserved. Also, they have these awesome five-liter towers for 25€. Sangria is 27€. Both are good. So, grab four other friends and you each get a goddamn liter of beer for 5€. Not a bad deal, huh? And as for the games, they were great. We (I can say that now because I leave here) beat them in Madrid, and drew when they came to Camp Nou. With the aggregate, the draw was enough to knock those Mourinho led bastards out of the Copa. Also, Pepe is currently the most hated individual in Barcelona. If any of you watched the game back in ‘Merica, you would have seen that Portuguese ponce (look that word up, it’s a good one) stomp on Messi’s hand. They should have the death penalty for these kinds of things. But anyway, we’ve seen a few games there, and oftentimes hit the place up before going out to concerts down the street at a spot called Razzmatazz.
And that brings me to another point.
The past three Thursdays, I’ve found myself at Razz. Which also means I’ve found myself up until sunrise (or later) because the shows don’t get out until at least 5AM. The first concert we saw there was Diplo, and that shit was packed. I didn’t know what to expect coming in, as I’d already had a few run-ins with American-overrun discotecas and pricey covers. But this place is different. In fact, it’s the shit. Last week, we saw Borgore – a reaaaally dirty DJ from Tel Aviv – and last night we went
otra vez to see Resso. Never heard of them before last night, but dubstep Thursdays at Razz get goddamn wild. For the first time since being here, though, we almost got in a couple fights last night. First off, these two douche tickets tried to pickpocket Will. Our amigo Garrett spotted the fuckers, alerted Will, and the Spanish guys were the ones that got pissed. A new phrase: “Estoy malo leche.” Literally means “I am bad milk” but essentially conveys the message that “I AM PISSED.” Estuve malo leche de la situación. But conflict was avoided. This came directly after a Spanish chica walked up to my friend Aaron, made out with him, and tried to snag his wallet from his back pocket. Valuables were henceforth moved to front pockets. AND THEN – and this is initially my fault – I walked into this fucking huge, drunk dude and spilled some of his beer. I almost bought him a new one, but he decided to say fuggit. A little later he even let Krista borrow his hoodie outside, who then gave it to me while walking back in. The guy thought I was trying to steal it, got right up in my face, and we were on the brink of starting world war goddamn three when cooler heads prevailed. Turned out to be the most quality of nights after that, as we continued the Razz fiesta until five, grabbed a bottle of scotch from our friend’s dorm nearby, and our new amigo Juan Luis (one of the most legit people I’ve ever met – more on that dude in another post) took us to a secret speakeasy status place at 8AM. It was at an undisclosed location, so as to protect all parties involved. Interestingly enough, another guy was wasted here and tried to start some shit as well. Is it just me, or is there a pattern here? I swear we weren’t being jackasses, but it seems like all the crazies found us last night. This guy wouldn’t get off the fact that we Americans were all
guiris in Spain. It’s pretty much a word that means the same as the Mexican/South American
gringo. White people, foreigners, what have you. Anyway, once again, conflict resolution came into play and after some half assed apologies this guy just up and left. Likely embarrassed, as he was trying his best to pick a fight, but who knows. After this, we took a walk to the beach as the sun was rising over the Mediterranean, scotch in hand. Except for the cold, biting wind, it was great. Eventually the group parted ways and headed home, and it was just me and Will – dos primos en España – kicking it on the beach with the sunrise until around 10 or 11. We walked up and down the shore, and stopped by a pastry shop to get some ridiculous good chocolate croissants. We even met this guy Pedro and his two dogs, whose names I forget. These perros did not have sweaters or shirts on, and were awesome fucking dogs. We ended up spending 45 minutes with this guy talking about dogs, playing fetch, and eventually speaking about the financial crisis going on in Spain (and, for the most part, the world in general). Shit’s pretty bad here in that respect – highest rate for unemployed youth in industrialized nations I believe, as well as a 20% overall unemployment rate. We traded numbers with the guy, and hopefully we’ll be in touch in the future to kick it and talk again as well as play with those badass dogs.
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| Diplo. Can you spot me?? Hint: my hands are in the air. |
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| LOL HEY. |
Oh yeah. Forgot to mention – Will puked. The dude, and all of us, had flat out had a long night of music, drinks, and dancing, and I guess it finally caught up to him as we were heading back to our respective homes. There we were, having a profound moment in family bonding on the shores of the Mediterranean, and the vile 6€ scotch we’d been sipping finally struck back. It was slow at first, then began a rapid ascent from the depths of his stomach up to the esophagus and eventually crept out of his mouth onto the beautiful, tide-touched sand. God dammit if I didn’t wish I had a picture of that. Seriously, one for the family albums back home.
As for watching the sunrise, that was the second time I’ve done that since being here. Both times on Friday mornings after a long night at Razz, and both had their profound moments interrupted by unforeseen forces. I’ve just told you about earlier this morning, but last week was even a little stranger. I didn’t want to go home just yet, as I was sure Jo Ellen was getting ready for work and I likely looked like the sleep-deprived P.O.S. that I currently was. So, as the beach was five blocks away I took a little stroll down La Rambla del Poblenou. It was around 8:45 and the sun had recently crept above the horizon. I was out on the pier, foot up on a rock jutting out of the water, and really just taking in the depth of my travels and pondering life and existence in general. And then I saw it. There was a human head about 20 feet out in the ocean, and for a second I thought I might have to recall all of my lifeguard training of years past. But then, this guy starts wading back into shore. Side note: it’s about 45 degrees (Fahrenheit, still) at this point, and that water has got to be cold as hell. So, I realize that this dude is just out for a daybreak testicle-freezing swim, and I also realize – as he exits the water – that he is ass naked. This beautiful moment in my life, standing on the shores of the ocean and reflecting on my very being, was quickly overshadowed by the fact that there was a naked dude walking around the beach. So European. Literally all I could do was laugh and go home. Not much else to do in that situation. We did not talk about the financial crisis or trade numbers.
And on that note, I’m done. I’ve been sleeping all day due to being up until daylight, and I’m finna go for a run and grab some tapas and vino después. Nothing too crazy tonight, though. We’re going on a trip to Girona tomorrow, which includes the Dalí museum. Seriously excited for that shit – I’ll bring my camera and report back soon. Honest. I will. Also, tomorrow night I AM GOING TO MY FIRST FUCKING BARCELONA MATCH. At Camp Nou. I shit you not. Aaron got me a ticket for 50€ as a deal through their dorms, and I bought his for the same price for a game in march. This Saturday we play Real Sociedad in a La Liga matchup, and on March 7th there’s an ISA trip to go see Barça play Bayern Leverkusen in a Champion’s league match. Cool shit, right? And then Sunday is the Super Bowl. What a great fucking stretch of days. I’m going to buy a guitar soon too – Will got one for 150€ from a little hole-in-the-wall (Jesus, I hyphenate a lot) guitar shop on La Rambla. He named it Isabella and she’s muy guapa.
Adiós, mis amigos.
UPDATE: Woke up late and missed the fucking bus for Girona. Couldn't have been more pissed. Estuve malo leche. My alarm didn't go off (classic move), and I got to the meeting point no more than a couple minutes after the busses pulled away. So I ended up sleeping until fucking 4 in the afternoon. Whatever, though. I went to Camp Nou and
saw my first Barça match, and it was great. Pics from that will be in the next post. Also, it's Super Bowl Sunday and that's pretty goddamn cool.
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