Its 10:50 here. And Shaun and I just had an incredible, unexpected, and culinary adventure- aka the best kind. Yesterday we decided to explore our neighborhood tapas bars, restaurants, and hangouts. Turns out, Shaun's guide book mentioned the name of a place just two streets down from us. So tonight we go walking and before we know it, we come upon a small, almost completely hidden, hole-in-the-wall enclave. I frame from using the word 'resturaunt' because this was no sit down establishment. At first we were a little intimidated to enter. There were no tables in sight and it defiantly was a neighborhood haunt, at least from the rapid pace of the Spanish being spoken. It was impossible to sit down for every wall was lined with hundreds and hundreds of wine bottles extending to the ceiling, floor, and every nook in between. It reminded me of a vast library of ancient books, each which held the tales of countless adventures, legendary characters, and impossible feasts. The wine glasses looked down upon us with the wisdom of ages, experience of masters, and authority of celebrity. They were objects with history and repertoire out of my realm; they held something enigmatic beyond the capacity of a simple college student. I watched my reflection pass in and out of their concave glass facades, while musing over their romantic, bittersweet, archaic names and enchanting origins. A man and woman worked behind a small counter running back and forth stacking fish, caviar, cheese, vegetables, and whatever else one desired on top of small bread pieces soaked with oils and spices. Everyone else just casually stood about drinking from deep burgundy glasses while snaking on bites of these creations. So we go up to the counter, and I manage to communicate in Spanish that we have no idea what we want, but we want something with cheese accompanied by cheap wine. The man (who we later come to kind out is named Keith) creates two little 'mountains' (there is a word for this, but I have no idea what it is). On top of bread he places some type of delicious brie, bright red tomatoes, subtle relish of some sort, followed by some type of pickled fish (sounds gross, in reality to-die-for), and adds more magic ingredients that I can't remember (the richness of Spanish food exceeds my cuisine comprehension ). We choose a wine from Catáluyna. The little mountain is unexpectedly tasty, tangy, and crunchy. Its amazing. We order 4 more from the woman behind the counter. Fill out wine glasses two time more. Every dish we receive is so different from the next (caviar, pepper, paprika, shrimp...its all there). I get yelled by the woman for taking apart the little mountain on time (I thought she put meat on it), but she just laughs at me when I turn bright red, and says 'Im joking'. All in all, we passed more than a hour and a half having no idea what we were ordering or eating. Yet it was exhilarating to taste the unknown, to let go on grasping every detail and just enjoy whatever is being given to us. I am so glad Shaun has no problem stuffing obscure, mysterious into her mouth like I do, because you defiantly have to get over that fear to taste and experience the full flavor of a simple little neighborhood joint like this. Overall, I was sad to walk out of the already comfortable and familiar atmosphere of the little tapas bar back into the dark, dimly lit streets of our down and dirty barrio (though nothing as bad a Xela, Guatemala let me assure you). It amazing how fast you can be attached to a place and how quickly one small, crowded alcove on a non-descriptive neighborhood street in Spain can enchant you with intoxicating charm, character, and possibility.
On another note, apparently we all came to Barcelona because supposedly it is "sexy". At least this is what one of the directors at UPF who gave a speech at our orientation yesterday stated. I swear, from the way the directors at the UPF stress to us they we CAN NOT skip class and that we must take our classes SERIOUSLY and that any rude behavior will NOT BE TOLERATED and if anything does occur it will result in the harshest DISCIPLINARY consequences, makes me feel that all Spaniards think American's all live in the 90210 and just sleep all day and party all night. Rather, most students here are from the top 20 university in the country. Further, the students that are studying abroad represent the individuals who put themselves out of their comfort zone and are most willing to go beyond and above the challenge for the benefit of a holistic academic education. It was very off-putting. But at least now I know that I choose Barcelona because is "sexy". Good to recognize. Shaun and I actually got lost for 45 min. on the way to the orientation (because when have I never been lost on my first day?) and I wish we stayed lost after finally hearing this gal talk. My first class yesterday was fine, my teacher is really nice and pretty down to earth. She wears a lot of colors. Its hard sitting through 3 hours of Spanish everyday though. We are starting right from the grammatical beginning, aka working with ser v. and estar. While its good to review (and lord knows I need it), it drags. Especially when I look outside and see the city moving without me.
After class today Shaun, Grace and I went to explore La Boqueria, the biggest market in Barcelona. Having and obsession with markets already (I dragged Rachel through even know market in Peru), there was nothing I could do to prepare for this. First, every type of fruit you could image was there. Piles and piles, mountains and flowing baskets like Carmen Meranda's fruit headpiece. The colors exploded into patches of tangy orange, pale yellow, vibrant greens, deep purples. Even better, were the fruit juices. Yes, flavors upon flavors of yummy fruit juice that unlike Peru or Guatemala you can ACTUALLY DRINK!!!! I had 5. Shaun, Grace and I went crazy, we lost control. I HAD 5 JUICE CUPS. How is that healthy? I am going to have citrus overload (Am I planning on going tomorrow? Absolutely). We couldn't stop drinking them. To tell you how delicious they were let me give y'all some possible combination: 1) kiwi, coconut, pineapple 2) strawberry, watermelon, orange 3) mango, tangerine, raspberry. I was in heaven, and I was drinking ambrosia. But the fruit was not even the best part. No, no it was not. It was the chocolate. There were heaps, accumulations, hoards of chocolate, just laid out for the taking. Like dragon's layer, but instead of the gold the dragon's hoards, it was chocolate. Chocolate with raisins, chocolates cataluynas, dark truffles, chocolate dipped in more chocolate, baked into brownies, covered in nuts...I could go on and on. I feel it is not necessary to say how much I bought, and then processed to eat. This is still the same girl who had 5 juice cups before this. THEN, we proceed to come upon a organic stall of vegetable, wraps, tortillas, pizzas, and of course, we couldn't pass that up. So finally here we all out sitting outside in a random back street of el barrio gotico: me with a wrap and chocolate, Shaun with her falafel and juice, and Grace with a giant bag of nuts. All of us are just going at it, stopping at points to lament about how fat we are all, and then starting again. We get a !que aproveche! (enjoy your meal) from one old woman, and them !chicas preciosas! (cute girls) from another frail, hobbling woman. It was hilarious. I am in love with a market.
Well I am quite tired from all my enterprises, but for sure will keep everyone update with my food adventures in the "sexy" city of Barcelona. Ughhhhhhh I am going to be a gordita (I'll let you infer what that one means) when I return, and I claim no responsibility.
Ps- I put my Google calender on the side bar (I am very proud of actually getting this to work) because I know that some were interested on visitng. Obviously, the days I don't have tests/projects/trips to other places would be the best days to come. Please check it out and let me know!!
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