Weekend in Barcelona
An amigo of mine and I have said adios to Australia for the year and decided to discover Europe one weekend at a time by being au pairs in the east of Spain. This weekend we discovered Barcelona. Well fell in love with, let alone discover.
Having checked into our hostel late on Friday afternoon, we dumped our backpacks and went off in search of something to fill our empty tummies. That’s when we discovered the central market or Mercat de la Boqueria and oh boy was it delightful. There were piles of all kinds of fruits, vegetables, meats, cheeses, drool‐worthy stacks of nuts, dried fruits and chocolates, not to mention the freshly squeezing juices in every combination and colour imaginable. My Spanish isn’t good, but I could understand the woman standing on a stool yelling over the bustling mass of people: “dos por una! dos por una! una euro!” It was closing time which meant bargain juice for dessert.
We returned to our hostel to find it was Sangria Night in the common room, so we sat and awkwardly (at first) began to chat to a group of Danish guys while sipping our mix of red wine, brandy and chunks of fruit. Perhaps thanks to the Sangria, we were soon all having a great chat about our travels and homes. A few Australian‐wildlife stories were thrown in too ‐ just for shock value! Once the only remains in our glasses were the bits of fruit, we set out to see just what is that keeps the Spanish out in the street until the crack of dawn.
Friday night found us at The Harlem Jazz Club where we recognised a pair of Norwegian girls from our hostel. We realised we had a lot in common with the girls and got on like a house on fire. We also soon realised that we were actually bunking in the same room together which led to a squeal of delight from one of them. We were quickly shushed by the more serious jazz fans.
The music was indeed very good, but the atmosphere was delectable. Hopefully the tale of how during one of the numbers, someone in the audience pulled out a box of sparklers and handed them around ‐ will sum up the general mood in the jazz club that night.
I’m not much of a clubbing person. Every now and then I’ll be dragged out for a night of deafening music and dancing in heels that are far‐too‐high (not without several pre‐boogie drinks mind you) for a friend’s birthday or the like, but on the whole I much prefer to go to places where I can also have a conversation.
Barcelona was therefore the place for me. Not having strict alcohol licensing laws, almost anywhere and everywhere can serve you a drink. Cute cafes by day turn into smoky beatnik bars by night, clustered with chairs, pillows and other seating apparatuses – around small tables strewn with exotic looking drinks and a healthy number of beer bottles!
One of my favourites was definitely the place where the bar tender made too much strawberry daiquiri, and gave us the remains in a jug to share out. Needless to say our brief introduction to the Barcelona nightlife left us as two rather hung over sightseers in the morning however come Sunday, just like all respectable tourists, we could would tick off Gaudi’s Familia Sagrada Cathedral and Guell Park. We also walked down La Rambla and saw its multitude of busking creatures ‐ many times. The central market was eagerly revisited too!
We met with our Norwegian friends for gelato and a quick look around the Picasso museum before saying our goodbyes and exchanging Facebook details. We sadly made our way to the bus stop, but Barcelona wasn’t quite finished with us yet:
“Hola! Hola. No hablo Espanol, hablan English?
“No, sorry that bus to Valencia is full. Next bus is at 9pm.”
Let’s not go into the irony of the situation, but there we had it, another five glorious hours in Barcelona. Initially we weren’t over‐the‐moon at the prospect of spending hours at a bus station in the wee hours of the morning waiting for another bus to take us from Valencia to our next town, but we soon decided it would be well worth it.
We were barely even aware of the lively activity going on in the plaza behind us as we counted the Euros left in our purses (I had a whole €5.64 to go crazy with) and messaged our respective au pairing families about our somewhat delayed return. To pass time we decided we’d lug our bags around whatever was causing all the fuss behind us and oh my ‐ am I glad we did.
I can’t think any other way of describing it other than a hippy market. The plaza was covered with huge tents with people sitting under them on cushions, drinking what looked like Turkish apple tea. There was stall after stall selling tofu kebabs, huge cups filled to the brim with Mojitos, table tops over flowing with homemade cheese, bread, oil, cake and oat biscuits, and a lot of people buying curious looking herbs!
We spent the next few hours perusing the different stalls, taking in the sights and smells, and attempting to practise a little conversational Spanish with several stall holders while sampling their contribution to the market.
With a tummy full of spiced tofu and countless tasters of cheese and cake, we settled down on a patch of grass where not even the thought of a sleepless night at a cold bus station floor could impinge on the bohemian feeling that Barcelona had left buzzing inside us.
‐ Ellie van der List
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