We had an atlas that we bought before leaving the States and it turned out to be a great thing to have for the rest of our trip. Google Maps actually provided very accurate directions, but the highways in Spain constantly change names and unfinished stretches sometimes force you onto frontage roads for a few kilometers, so it was nice to have a visual (we had no international data plan, so no Google Maps on our phones).

Isaac got a little fussy about an hour into the drive, so we handed him some pegatinas (stickers) and stumbled upon a new crutch for dealing with a cranky toddler in the car. A routine quickly developed where he’d point out a sticker, we’d hand it to him, he’d smack it down on the sticker canvas—a coloring book—as hard as he could, clap his hands, and say ‘Yay!’ This went on for awhile, but eventually he became mesmerized by the metallic colors on the stickers and fell asleep, a sticker in one hand and the coloring book in another. To this day stickers almost always pull him back from the brink if he is falling apart on the road.

We continued west as Isaac slept and the fairly dry landscape got even drier. Grey-green vegetation gave way to brick red dirt, sage-green brush, and small buttes and mesas scarred by gulches and dried rivulets. Olive and almond groves were also becoming more common, and every few kilometers we passed another ruined stone edifice atop a high hill that dominated its immediate surroundings.

It was still raining two and a half hours later when we dog-legged north and entered the foothills of the Pyrenees. Isaac awoke a little later, just as we began the relentless up and down ziggle-zaggle (Erika coined this phrase in Idaho in July) typical of mountain roads. He had a little snack and then we started singing songs, one of which was “This Old Man.” When we got to the verse about seven, Erika threw in a little twist: “this old man, he played 7, he played 7 all up in heaven!”

View from our balcony in Biescas

I looked over at her like she was crazy, and she was like, “what?”

“Erika, it’s ‘he played knick knack up in heaven, not, ‘he played seven all up in heaven.’”

We both erupted in laughter and I can only imagine what Isaac was thinking as we gradually got ourselves back under control! Now, Erika and I can’t sing it any other way and still break into uncontrollable fits of laughter when we do. Hopefully it won’t embarrass him too much when we sing it with him and his friends in a few years .

We finally made it to Biescas about an hour later in the middle of a torrential downpour. I got soaked as I unloaded the car while Erika and Isaac were in the lobby talking with Elena, who was renting us our next apartment. She turned out to be a wonderful woman and more accommodating than we could have ever hoped, as you’ll discover in one of the later entries. This week’s home was an incredibly quaint stone and timber house perched on a steep hill. It had two bedrooms, a full bath, a little kitchenette, and a balcony with a fantastic view down the valley to the south.

Isaac gettin crazy in the Pack and Play

We were starving by the time all of our luggage was unloaded, so we drove around hoping to find some food. It was around 5, so the pickins were slim, but we found a bar that was able to serve up some toastadas and cafes solos. Whew! It wasn’t much, but it took the edge off. Afterwards, we headed back to the apartment and Isaac morphed into a wild man while we unpacked. He was tearing around the apartment squealing and laughing and yelling and otherwise being a crazy person. At one point he discovered how fun it was to scramble to the edge of the bed, climb over the rail of the adjoined pack and play, and fall down into it. This was pretty nerve-wracking for mom and dad, but he was literally beside himself with unfettered joy after the long car ride, so we facilitated it and did our best to keep him from falling too hard.

Another feature of this bout of mania was the debut of Isaac’s separation anxiety. At one point, while I was in the bathroom, he apparently walked out into the dining room, leaned over to peer around the cabinets and, while looking both ways, said, “Dada? Where Dada?!” His first sentence! This became a common theme for the rest of the trip.

Anyway, once we were all unpacked we went out for some pizza. It was getting towards 9 p.m. by this time and Isaac was evidently very hungry. He ate a TON of spaghetti and sausage while we drank Estrella Damm and ate pizza. At some point during dinner we taught him how to raise a glass to toast. He took to it quickly and still loves to do it today. Next time you see him, offer your glass and say “Cheers!”

Miró's The Caress of a Bird at Fundació Joan Miró

We woke up early the morning after our lovely little laundry escapade and headed to Montjuïc. This massive hill overlooks city and sea and features a huge fortress, a palace, gardens, an Olympic village, and several museums. Our first stop was the Fundació Joan Miró, a museum showcasing paintings and sculptures by one of Barcelona’s native sons. We both love Miró and were excited to see the museum’s extensive collection. We also suspected Isaac would like the artist’s colorful, simple forms.

The museum didn’t disappoint and Isaac really seemed to enjoy the art, especially a large white sculpture called Solar Bird. When he saw it, he quietly peered at it for several seconds, seemed to decide something, pointed at it with conviction and said, “Duck!” Isaac calls all birds “ducks,” and we were very impressed by his perceptiveness. If you click the link you’ll see why, as the sculpture is very abstract, to say the least.

Without doubt, the Fundació Joan Miró  was one of the highlights of Barcelona and we wholeheartedly recommend a stop here. Particularly interesting are his paintings from the Spanish Civil War era and the sculptures out on the terrace with great views of the city.

After hitting the gift store we headed to the Laribal Gardens. This large, wooded park, situated on the steep slopes of Montjuïc, incorporates elements typical of the Arabian gardens found across the Iberian Penninsula. It’s a wonderful place for an afternoon walk. We rambled along the sandy paths, passing a variety of trees and other Mediterranean plants, including olive, fig, and orange trees; huge palms and cypress; and even pomegranate. The park is also known for its numerous small, ceramic-tiled fountains, and we seemed to pass a new one around every corner. Some of them were quite whimsical and uniqely designed. If Isaac hadn’t been asleep I think he would have loved the pig fountain!

The patio of El Font del Gat

Eventually we arrived at the charming El Font del Gat for lunch. This restaurant is picture perfect with tables arrayed beneath orange trees on a patio overlooking Barcelona; unfortunately, the food was pretty forgettable and way too expensive. Oh well, you can’t win ‘em all.

After lunch we caught the Telefèric de Montjuïc (a glass-sided gondola) up to Castell de Montjuïc at the top of the hill. Isaac loved looking out the huge glass windows and was determined to point out every single car and bus we saw along the way.

The location of Castell de Montjuïc has a long and storied history. The first fortifications were built in 1640, but it’s most infamous period was during Franco’s rule. During that time the fortress served as a political prison notorious for frequent executions. Eek! For years it was hated by the people but in 1963 it was converted into a military museum. Now this massive, daunting structure is a quiet place to catch spectacular views. As you amble around the roof you encounter an interesting juxtaposition of the many faces of Barcelona: the vast turquoise expanse of the Mediterranean Sea, lovely white beaches, the reddish Spanish-tiled rooftops marching across the city, the strange pointy towers of Sagrada Família, the shiny modern skyscrapers randomly punctuating the sprawling city, and the noisy, dirty chaos of the port.

Overlooking the Mediterranean from Castell Monjuïc

Overlooking the city from Castell Montjuïc

In late September, the Castell de Montjuïc is also the site of many events associated with La Mercè. During this raucous festival, Barcelonés celebrate the patron saint of their city, bringing the streets to life with live music, dancing, and parades. La Mercè is known for its “casteller” competitions (amazing human pyramids, sometimes up to 8 levels high) and its Parade of the Giants, but the highlight of the Festes de Mercè seems to be Correfoc, or “the opening of the gates of hell”. It actually sounds (and looks!) legitimately dangerous – imagine drunken Catalans and wanton pyrotechnics – but it would have been a memorable sight to see. Unfortunately, we missed the festival by one day and had to settle for a promise to attend it in the future.

Adiós, Barcelona!

After a nice day on Montjuïc, we headed home for a much deserved rest and a snack. After a hilarious photoshoot with Isaac on our balcony, we hit some of the local shops on our block and got some adorable clothes for the boy. Then, we settled in for a quiet dinner and an uneventful evening of packing, cleaning, and plotting a route for the drive to Aragon in north-central Spain. Our destination was the small mountain village of Biescas in the Pyrenees. We were very sad to leave our lovely apartment in charming Gràcia, but excited to enter las montañas and the next phase of our Spanish adventure. It was time to head for the hills!

Anyway, we hopped on the train and headed downtown, but we could NOT find the Picasso museum to save our lives. We had a nice little extra tour of Ciudad Vell (Old City) and its narrow, winding streets, but eventually it just got ridiculous and we started asking random pedestrians for directions. When we finally reached the museum, we were greeted by a huge line. As we queued up, one of the museum staff approached to tell us that we couldn’t bring the Deuter into the museum. We reassured her that we had a smaller carrier and she said that was “perfecto.” Suddenly we were all whisked away to a side entrance, brought to a ticket booth with no line, and shown directly to a room with free lockers where we could leave the backpack. Great success! Another perk to being a parent in Spain!

We entered the museum and were rewarded with an excellent overview of Picasso’s development from teenage art student to multi-faceted artistic genius. We explored until Isaac ran out of steam and then headed down to the cafeteria for some cafe and food. Finding only disappointing, unsurprisingly expensive options, we bailed and made for Barceloneta.

A sculpture representing the shanty restaurants that used to line Barceloneta beach.

The city comes right up to the edge of Barceloneta's beautiful crescent beach

Barceloneta is quaint little water-front corner of Barcelona that manages to feel a lot like a small beach town. I had read about a great beachfront restaurant called Can Majo with a reputation for great seafood, which we sought out and managed to find. Isaac had fallen asleep on the walk over, and we were grateful for a seat in the back corner. Eric set the backpack down behind him and Isaac was able to sleep undisturbed. If you are ever in Barcelona, make it a priority to go to this restaurant. We had an excellent lunch of incredible olives, bread, and Caldero de Bogavante (basically lobster paella). Isaac awoke as we ate and, after a slow, cranky start, ate many spoonfuls of the main dish. Such an adventurous eater!

After stuffing myself on the best seafood I’ve ever had (washed down with a perfectly matched white wine suggested by the waiter), I took Isaac to the fresh seafood display. He was transfixed by the platters of snails, lobsters, eels, fish, clams, shrimp and other delicacies. The person behind the counter was a total prankster and began playing with Isaac, taking a particularly big lobster and moving it around like it was dancing. Isaac loved it!

Isaac playing in the sand

When we were done, we headed to the beach where Isaac rolled in the sand and we all had a nice, refreshing dip in the Mediterranean (a first for the whole family!). Isaac was a bowl full of giggles when he first entered the sea and was completely in love with everything about the beach: the sand, the “cocks” (AKA rocks), and the plethora of milk dispensers on display (topless sunbathing is the norm in Barcelona ).

After the beach, we stopped briefly at Santa Maria del Mar (St. Mary of the Sea), which is an old (c. 1383), very simple, elegant basilica of striking symmetry and adorned with amazing stained glass. According to our guidebook, “the number 8 (or multiples thereof) – the medieval numerological symbol for the Virgin Mary – runs through every element of the basilica’s construction…The result of all this proportional balance is a tonic sense of peace and enlightenment.” I’m not sure about enlightenment but as the late afternoon sun inched closer to the horizon, walking through the cool, dark basilica was certainly a lovely, quiet ending to the day’s adventures.

Maritime-themed statue of Santa Maria inside Santa Maria del Mar

Upon returning to Gracia, Eric finally had an uncomplicated shopping experience – woohoo! He returned home and things went sharply downhill from there. As I was cooking dinner, Eric started laundry, only to abort the mission because Isaac kept pushing the machine’s buttons. Then, I tried to take a shower, but there was no hot water…a problem somehow relegated only to the bathroom…huh? With that mission similarly ended, we put Isaac to bed and sat down for dinner. Halfway through, Eric restarted the laundry, and then, a few minutes later, a sudsy deluge descended from the ceiling of the apartment. Dang it! Once the water stopped flowing, Eric tried to call the rental agency, to no avail. With nothing left to do, we cleaned up and sat back down to finish dinner and have some wine.

A little while later we decided that the water may have came from an upstairs apartment, as it had come from the ceiling. So, we gave the laundry another whirl and at about the exact same point in the cycle, woosh! Another deluge! Now convinced it MUST have been coming from us (by somehow defying physics), Eric made several frantic (and expensive) calls to the rental company, which netted us a promise of a visit later that night.

Eduardo knocked on the door about an hour later. He was a friendly young guy from Ecuador, which meant he spoke Castilian – a huge relief under the circumstances. He and Eric were able to have a pretty in depth conversation in Spanish and a little English about what had happened. Ultimately, they agreed that the leaks really had to be a bizarre pair of coincidences, as it would make no sense for the water to drain up before flowing down to the pipes under the street. With that decided, they chatted some more and Eduardo commented how impressed he was that Eric knew so much Spanish. He explained that most of the Americans and Brits who rent the properties through his company not only don’t speak Spanish, but they get angry when they landlords can’t communicate in English. We found this shocking considering we were, um…IN SPAIN!

Sure, it can sometimes be exhausting and frustrating to struggle with a new language, but isn’t learning about a new culture and its language part of the point of international travel? Maybe its our sociology/anthropology backgrounds, but we LOVE that aspect of exploring other countries and we always try to pick up some of the local language when we travel. For us, the holy grail of travel are those few minutes when you are actually REALLY communicating with someone in another language. You get in a groove and, even though the grammar is wrong or the words pronounced incorrectly, everything seems to fit together and you actually understand each other.

And, it’s interesting: throughout our years of traveling together, we have discovered that we definitely have our own styles of learning new languages. I am better at hearing and understanding them while Eric is better at speaking them (it was a little different in Spain, though, since Eric took so many years of Spanish in school). He thinks it may have something to do with how he learned Hebrew during Hebrew School and for his Bar Mitzvah. He only learned to read and speak the language and rarely knew what the words meant. Whatever the reason, it works for us and is a great asset when traveling.

Anyway, after a great conversation, Eduadro left, promising that the rental agency would be in touch with our upstairs neighbor about the issue. We decided to give the washer one more go, thinking three coincidences were extremely improbable. Fortunately, we were right, and we were able to do several more loads of laundry without issue before leaving Barcelona.

We were settling quite comfortably into Spanish time so it wasn’t until around 12 that we finally got moving. We ran into a couple of Americans on the bus who are living in Oregon, but who are from the east coast. When we told the woman we’re from Maryland, she asked if we live near Gaithersburg. I told her I grew up there and, being Thelma Rubinstein’s grandson, I asked who she knows in that area. She gave a doubtful look and said, “do you know the Stauffers?”

Entrance to Parc Guell

“I know an Adam Stauffer. Do you know him?”

“Why yes, yes I do! I went to college with his parents!”

“Well, I’ll be…”

Man. Traveling sure does have its crazy synchronicities, eh? Anyway, we marveled over this bizarre coincidence for a bit, swapped stories of what we had seen so far of Spain, and finally attained our shared destination: Parc Guell (gallery).

As we disembarked, we realized that we didn’t have a map of the park, and kind of aimlessly wandered towards a path flanked by dense vegetation. We passed through a huge gate and then saw a crazy pink house set back among some trees. This is the house in which Guadi lived for most of the last 20 years of his life, and which is now a museum. It was a bit of a let down for 5 euro and we didn’t spend much time there, though we did enjoy the sampling of Gaudi-designed furniture.

The park, on the other hand, could hold your attention for hours on end.

Sculpture near the entrance of Parc Guell

Tree-like columns in Parc Guell

Parc Guell is Gaudi’s dabble in landcape design and another work commissioned by Eusebi Guell. In this case, the goal was to build an upscale neighborhood for Barcelona’s wealthy citizens. Commercially it was a failure, but artistically, it is totally fascinating. His ability to fit architecture into its environment–to make architecture feel natural–really shines in certain areas of the park, and foreshadows things to come. We spent a good deal of time here, exploring crazy walkways with pillars like tree trunks and others with sloping columns that impossibly hold up stone archways. At times, it was hard to separate man-made from natural forms. And at every turn, some other strange architectural feature greeted us. Seeking shade from the intense Mediterranean sun, we hung out for awhile in an area meant to be an open-air market. The ceiling here was riddled with gorgeous, colorful mosaics and Isaac enjoyed chasing around all the pigeons.

Looking out over Barcelona and the Mediterranean Sea from Parc Guell

Eventually we made our way up to a vast terrace (the “roof” of the would-be market), surrounded by more pillared walkways and Park Guell’s famous serpentine mosaic bench. From up here, there is a fantastic view of Barcelona and the Mediterranean. We wandered around a bit, dodging vendor’s blankets, taking in some fantastic live gypsy jazz, and snapping photos of the panoramic vista of city and sea. Erika nursed Isaac while another woman nursed her 15 month old son. They communicated in broken Spanish, broken English, and motherly smiles as the kids ate crackers together. Its moments like this that make traveling with a kid so fascinating and special. These experiences with other parents became a theme on our trip and, through the simple act of parenthood, we bridged language, culture, and nationality while our kids played together.

Time seemed to stand still up on that terrace but soon enough it was time for another Spanish lunch. We jumped back on the bus and headed to Gracia, hoping that we might have another lucky day of stumbling upon a random restaurant with a fantastic Menu del Dia. After 20 minutes of fruitless searching, we put eyes on a place called Tapa i Apat (clever, eh? ) about a block from our apartment. Erika vaguely recalled the place having good reviews in a guide book so we walked in and took a seat in the back. This time lunch featured salad with salted cod, Andalucian Gezpaco, fish filet and potato salad with tuna and olives, sausages and potatoes, cherry tart, strawberry mousse, and a cold beer. Wow! Another fantastic (and ridiculously cheap) meal to match the days’ walking.

During lunch we realize that Isaac calls spoons “mambos.” We have no idea why or from what this could possible originate, but it’s his word for spoon and another theme soon emerged. For the rest of our Spain trip, and still today, mealtimes are dominated by Isaac’s search for a mambo.

Entrance to Sagrada Familia

After lunch we took the metro over to the unfinished Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família, AKA, Basilica and Expiatory Church of the Holy Family, AKA La Sagrada Familia (gallery) . Un. Be. Lievable. As you walk up to the Passion Facade, you are struck by the massive scale of this improbable building. Yet somehow, despite its size, it appears light and sinewy.

As you get up closer, the countless sculptures that adorn the walls on the Passion Facade appear to angle out and hover over you. Its an intense feeling. Eventually you are drawn inside where the real magic happens, and absolutely nothing can prepare you for this encounter. As with any huge cathedral, the scale has an immediate effect; however, with Sagrada, there’s much more to it than high ceilings and impressive stained glass. It really is like nothing else in this world and is literally breathtaking. Erika had not looked at any pictures of the cathedral before arriving and was so overwhelmed that she actually started crying.

The arboreal columns in Parc Guell were impressive for how they fit in with their environment; in Sagrada Familia, the columns are the environment. As if to highlight this, when we first got there, Isaac was sound asleep. After awhile, he woke up, looked around, pointed at the columns and said “t’ees!” (AKA, trees). Couldn’t have said it better myself, buddy! The columns that support the roof tower above you, rising at least 50 feet before branching off into smaller supports and then meeting the ceiling. The shapes at the top are meant to emulate the patterns in the canopy of a forest, and the stained glass constantly throws patches of mottled light against the pillars. The overall effect is powerfully reminiscent of being in a forest with light beams breaking through the leaves and alighting on tree trunks.

The arboreal columns of Sagrada Familia branch like tree limbs to support the ceiling

The mottled patches of light, columns, and ceiling structures create the feeling of being in a forest canopy

A fascinating exhibit in the church illustrated how Gaudi was inspired and influenced by the forms, shapes, and functions of nature. He did all kinds of research on this topic, studying and testing the strength of tree branches and how a tree supports its crown, the spiral fall of a maple seed pod, the formation of crystals, the symmetry of pine cones. His research prompted him to move beyond right angles and straight lines and the exhibit highlights examples of the natural inspiration for Gaudi’s works, many of which appear in the Sagrada Familia.

Ceiling above the alter, Sagrada Familia

Spiral staircase in Sagrada Familia

We risk overselling this place, but it just totally took us in. It may be the most incredible, vibrant work of art I’ve ever experienced. If you ever go, spend hours here watching the light change, taking a ride up the bell tower for incredible views of the city, walking back down the spiral staircase, and checking out the boiling, organic, neo-Gothic shapes of the Nativity Facade. Also, don’t miss the museum in the basement, which displays some of the incredible devices Gaudi used to find plumb lines throughout his undulating structures.

After several hours of exploring and photographing Sagrada, we finally headed back to the apartment, getting there around 8. I went out on another snare-laden grocery shopping misadventure, and, after going to three places, I arrived back at the apartment at 9:15 with half of the items on the list. Nevertheless, we had another great dinner and late night with Isaac finally settling into bed at around 10:00 (wow!) and us at 1 am. Another wonderful, exhausting day in Barcelona was in the bag!

Gaudi's Casa Mila (La Pedrera)

Gaudi's Casa Batlo

We learned quickly that architecture is art in Barcelona, and the city seems to revel in this identity! We were continously surprised when another beautiful and bizarre building came into view around every corner. While we fell in love with Barcelona, Isaac fell asleep in the Deuter. The poor little guy was utterly exhausted after all the traveling, but we were thrilled that he was so comfortable in the backpack!

Isaac sleeping in the Deuter

As Isaac slept, we made our way down to Placa Catalonya and the beginning of La Rambla. This pedestrian boulevard is lined with sycamores and is a total tourist trap, making it the perfect scene for Barcelona’s infamous pickpockets. While we usually run from crap like this, it’s actually very pretty and also happens to be the gateway to many of the sights in Barcelona. So, we decided to bite the bullet and jump headfirst into the underbelly of the city. With our guard up, we headed down the shaded boulevard full of flower shops, kitchy Barcelona trinkets, and street performers.

About halfway down La Rambla, jet lag began to tug at the corners of our eyes, so we grabbed dos cafes solos at a little bar across from La Boqueria (one of the oldest open air markets in Europe) and it managed to perk us up a little bit. Isaac was awake by the time we left and, after a brief jaunt to explore some of the flower shops, he seemed legitimately excited to get back in the Deuter.

Chimneys on the roof of Palau Guell

Before long, we arrived at our destination: Palau Guell. Count Eusebi Guell was Gaudi’s benefactor – the rich dude that recognized Gaudi’s genius and commissioned him to build several buildings, including this incredible residence for the Guell family. A ticket gets you an audiotour device, which Isaac proceeded to commandeer for use as a phone, holding it to his ear, saying “heh-yo?” and chattering away about who knows what. Palau Guell was our first in-depth intro to Gaudi and I was soon in love with his world of hyperbolic shapes, mosaics, and his brilliant marriage of art, nature, and function. The rooftop is an undulating feast of colorful and bizarre chimneys, many strongly reminiscent of trees. At the very end of our tour, we caught the last few minutes of someone playing the organ in the mansion’s main hall. A very surreal end to our first immersion into the world of Gaudi.

Prior to visiting Palau Guell, I had never before paid much attention to architecture, let alone considered it to be art. Sure, I’ve ooed and ahhed over an old cathedral or castle but I certainly didn’t think of modern architecture as being anything more than functional. Gaudi has made me reconsider. I was totally surprised by his abandonment of straight lines and 90 degree angles because, before Gaudi, I always thought buildings had to have these things. By the end of our visit to Palau Guell, I found myself deeply drawn into Gaudi’s wavy world–where straight lines definitely do not dominate–and questioning everything I had known about architecture.

Homage to Orwell

After Palau Guell, we headed across La Rambla to explore the winding streets of Barri Gotic (the Gothic Quarter) and stumbled upon Placa de George Orwell. In the center of this small plaza is a bizarre memorial that from some angles looks like a bowing figure, but from other angles? Who knows. Regardless, it is an interesting tribute to the author who immortalized the Spanish Civil War through his journalistic account of his time volunteering for the Republican Army in “Homage to Catalonia”.

As we took in the plaza, we eavesdropped on an English speaking tour guide. He explained that only a few weeks earlier the plaza was full of drug dealers and pickpockets but that the city cleaned up the place. A good thing for us, as it has a nice little park for toddlers and Isaac thoroughly enjoyed chasing the “ducks,” AKA pigeons, around the playground.

By this point it was nearing 1400 hours, aka 2 p.m., which, in Spain, is Spanish for “lunch time!”. Of course, anyone who knows me knows that I enter the “danger zone” and transform into a monster when I’m hungry. I was determined, however, to adjust to the Spanish eating schedule, and by 2 p.m. on day 2 I was playing with fire and more than ready to indulge in a true Spanish lunch.

After a tense, aimless search, we stumbled into, rather than chose, our lunch spot. Sukur in Barri Gotic was a super trendy restaurant that lured us in with its “Menu del Dia.” For 10 Euros each we got a three course meal, a glass of wine, and bottled water. A delicious culinary dream come true: freshly baked bread and olives, pasta with Iberico ham and mushrooms; grouper with tomatoes, ginger and asparagus; steak with rice; decadent chocolate cake; and cava – the Spanish version of champagne. Did I mention this was lunch?

After gorging oursleves, we slowly made our way through Placa de Sant Jaume, past the Parliament Building, and poked around the Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia, AKA La Seu (The See) with its magical fountain straight out of a fairy tale.

Art Nouveau entrance to La Boqueria

Fountain in Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia, AKA La Seu (The See)

Heading back to La Rambla, we did some shopping at La Boqueria. We got some incredible fresh squeezed juices, sausages and veggies. It was all ridiculously fresh and cheap and another reminder of how different Europe’s relationship with food is compared with America.

Casa Vicens facade

Finally, after a VERY full day, we headed back to our apartment for a much needed rest. A little later, we walked a few blocks north to Casa Vicens, one of Gaudi’s early architectural designs “before he gave up the T-square.” You can see glimpses here of his future genius but, indeed, everything is still square as he hadn’t yet entered the world of hyperbolics and paraboloids.

Upon returning we prepared and ate yet another yummy, home-cooked meal and then put the little guy to bed (eek 9:15!). Then, Eric and I sat on the balcony drinking wine and watching the bustling street below. We discussed all our various travels and adventures together over the  past 14 years and I was reminded again of how much I love this guy…and how perfect we are as traveling companions. At the end of our first full day in Spain, we were both giddy with excitement for our Spanish adventure!

Erika and I have been talking about coming here ever since we went to Europe back in the fall of 2000 (more than a decade ago? really?). At that time, we decided that we wanted Spain to be a trip unto itself, and left it out of our 5-week backpacking excursion through France, Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. Now, 11 years, a marriage, and one baby later, here we are! Neither of us can quite piece together a narrative of the decision that led us to this quaint little apartment in Gracia, Barcelona, but we’ll try.

Two years ago, around this same time of year, Erika and I finally took up the wonderful John and Madeleine Lanham on their wedding gift of a bed-and-breakfast style vacation at their house in Fumel, France. Erika was pregnant, but I was still ecstatic with memories of our recent backpacking trip to King’s Canyon, so I searched for mountain ranges and hikes within striking distance of the beautiful south-central French countryside. My searches led me to the Cirque of Gavarnie and its myth-laden pinnacle, the Gap of Roland (Le Breche de Roland, Brecha de Rolando, etc.) on the Spanish/French border. The trip to the Pyrenees was not to be that year, but the Gap of Roland was stuck in my head.

Once Erika and I decided  to go to Spain, a winding road led me back to this odd breach in the fragile spine of the Pyrenees range. I turned to Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls and Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia–both phenomenal accounts of the Spanish Civil war–for ideas of where to go. Hemingway pointed us to areas closer to Madrid, but Orwell described a circle of defense around Barcelona, which was Erika’s preferred city. On top of that, Barcelona is within striking range of Torla, Parque Naccional de Ordesa y Monte Perdido, and La Brecha de Rolando. With these stars in alignment, a vague plan started to take shape.

Using Orwell’s book, Iberian and Moorish history, and Madeleine and John’s suggestions as guides (especially since Madeleine is from Girona, Spain, near Barcelona), an itinerary took shape. We decided we’d explore Catalonia, then Aragon, then attempt a hike to the Gap of Roland, and top it off with a trip to Girona and the far northeast of Spain, which includes Salvador Dali’s stomping grounds.

The night before we left we launched an epic bout of packing – try packing for 2 adults and a baby, with plans to tour cities and trek in the mountains in a foreign country! In the midst of packing, Erika managed to modify her 1997 vintage sleeping bag and pimp out Isaac’s pillow on our Deuter Kid Comfort III (a HIGHLY recommended kid backpack) with a super soft cover (AKA an old fleece sock).

We got to Spain at 8:00 a.m. Barcelona time (2 a.m. DC time). Isaac had slept the most, logging 2 hours somewhere over the Atlantic. Even though he was running on empty, he was AMAZING on  the plane, somehow managing to charm everyone around him. Once we landed, we had to sit around the airport for awhile waiting for the apartment rental agency to open.

When we finally got to our apartment, it was all we hoped it would be. Most important of all, it had Erika’s treasured balcony overlooking a quaint Catalonian street.

Our living room and balcony

View from our balcony

We tried to nap, but Isaac seemed way too excited that we’d all been together non-stop for so long and wouldn’t let us out of his sight. Eventually we gave up on sleeping and ventured out for lunch. This was a very stressful affair that netted us a fairly boring meal and a lot of consternation over the set up of the Kid Comfort. Finally, we made it back to the apartment, plenty the worse for the wear, and managed to crash for two hours…our attempt at a Spanish siesta.

Isaac and Daddy napping

When we woke up, I went grocery shopping, which took over an hour because I was still totally delirious, everything was named in Catalan (imagine a Spanish-French-Portuguese hybrid), and the store just didn’t have all that we needed. Despite all of this, we had a great, homemade dinner and a bottle of wine. After Isaac went to bed, Erika and I planned our stay in Barcelona. As we headed off for some much needed sleep, we discovered a ton of ants, marching in a straight line from the ceiling, behind the couch, and up the kitchen table…all to devour a boring old cracker. I beat them back with a spray identified only by a toilet bowl on the label.

Finally, after a grueling 36 hours of travel, we crawled beneath the sheets and slept.

There are many things people do not know about BARACK OBAMA. It is every American’s duty to read this message and pass it along to all of their friends and loved ones:

Barack Obama wears a FLAG PIN at all times. Even in the shower.

Barack Obama says the PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE every time he sees an American flag. He also ends every sentence by saying, “WITH LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL.” Click here for video of Obama quietly mouthing the PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE in his sleep.

A tape exists of Michelle Obama saying the PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE at a conference on PATRIOTISM.

Every weekend, Barack and Michelle take their daughters HUNTING.

Barack Obama is a PATRIOTIC AMERICAN. He has one HAND over his HEART at all times. He occasionally switches when one arm gets tired, which is almost never because he is STRONG.

Barack Obama has the DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE tattooed on his stomach. It’s upside-down, so he can read it while doing sit-ups.

There’s only one artist on Barack Obama’s iPod: FRANCIS SCOTT KEY.

Barack Obama is a DEVOUT CHRISTIAN. His favorite book is the BIBLE, which he has memorized. His name means HE WHO LOVES JESUS in the ancient language of Aramaic. He is PROUD that Jesus was an American.

Barack Obama goes to church every morning. He goes to church every afternoon. He goes to church every evening. He is IN CHURCH RIGHT NOW.

Barack Obama’s new airplane includes a conference room, a kitchen, and a MEGACHURCH.

Barack Obama’s skin is the color of AMERICAN SOIL.

Barack Obama buys AMERICAN STUFF. He owns a FORD, a BASEBALL TEAM, and a COMPUTER HE BUILT HIMSELF FROM AMERICAN PARTS. He travels mostly by FORKLIFT.

Barack Obama says that Americans cling to GUNS and RELIGION because they are AWESOME.

Pass it on!

If any of you are considering a donation, but have yet to take the plunge, now is the time! She just needs enough to sponsor 6 more kids in order to reach her goal, but she leaves on Monday, so time is short.

Donations can be made via paypal to account name janainavmarques@gmail.com.

Click here if you’d like to view the original announcement and flyer.

Artomatic is a month-long multimedia arts event that draws together visual artists, musicians and performers and brings their work to the community for free. This year it is housed in a building near the intersection of M and 1st Streets, NE near the New York Ave Metro station. Check out the Artomatic website for directions, info and other goodies. And here is the website for Batala.

Hope to see you all there!

Erika

Dear friend,

I’m writing you to ask for support in realizing a dream opportunity for 30 low-income children this summer: the chance to participate in a 10-day art workshop. I’ve designed a unique program, Nature ReCreations, for children aged 6-12. This hands-on class will use materials found in nature, and transform materials normally destined to landfills into works of art. The idea is to reinforce that art is all around us, even in everyday objects.

I love teaching art and as you may know I am an after-school art teacher in four Montgomery County elementary schools (Bethesda, Somerset, Garrett Park and Burning Tree). My training through the Young Rembrandts program complements my ten years of experience as a graphic designer, film producer and craftswoman.

My husband, Pedro, will work for the summer in Montana for the State Department of Environmental Quality. I have decided to travel with him and offer this class to a community of disadvantaged kids in Missoula. This workshop will help me prepare a curriculum that I plan to develop further through a Masters Degree in Art Education, beginning in September.

To realize this plan I need to raise at least $3,000 to cover class materials and other expenses. The cost for each child is $100. With your help and the help of your friends, I hope to be able to offer this opportunity to this group of children in Missoula. Please take a look at the attached flyer and my Web site to learn more. Keep in mind, my deadline to confirm the space is June 13^th. Please pass this message along to friends.

$100 will support 1 child for the full 10-day workshop,
but any donation is welcome. Donate via Paypal* or check^

Thank you so much.

Yours truly,

Janaina Vieira-Marques
janainavmarques@gmail.com

*Donations can be made via paypal to account name janainavmarques@gmail.com

^Make checks payable to Janaina Vieira-Marques and send to:
5526 Greystone Street
Chevy Chase, MD 20815