After an indolent month on the Costa del Sol, we landed (literally) in BCN on Sunday, 2 Sept. I had arranged for a temporary apartment while we search for more permanent quarters, and we currently are situated very near to Guadi's Sagrada Familia cathedral, and about two and half blocks from the Plaza de Toros (where the other day, a very festive and dressy crowd was milling outside, awaiting the spectacle, while silent protesters waved posters showing gored animals and handing out anti-bullfight literature).
Our first day here felt a bit overwhelming as it sunk in that we were going to be here for a long time yet knew no one. (Well, almost no one: Hannah had met a nice young man from Barcelona while on the beach in Nerja and they met for a drink last night, then tried on hats at El Corte Ingles, the local version of Marshall Fields and the High Temple of all things material.) We eased our malaise by observing and commenting upon the doings of an attractive 30-ish couple seven floors below as they played with their two Labrador retrievers, surfed the Web and occasionally embraced.
At last, we are fixed up with wireless Internet access, which I have put to good use arranging viewings of various furnished apartments. We have tentative arrangements with an owner - a language teacher with a fairly good grasp of English - to rent her extremely charming two-bedroom flat near the El Born district - just off a quiet square ringed with cafes and an old church, but close to the fashionable area of clubs and restaurants. Only one bathroom (which may prove fatal to our renting it) and no air conditioning, but a wonderfully equipped kitchen and a rooftop terrace where we could, if we supplied our own patio furniture and plants, enjoy a semblance of an outdoor life. We are keeping that option open while we continue to look.
I had been warned about the horrors of Spanish officialdom, but this drawback came to vivid life on Tuesday as we fruitlessly sought to secure Hannah's student identification card. Monday, we had gone to the nearest district police office, as instructed by the Spanish Consulate in San Francisco, only to find it permanently closed. At 2:30, it was too late to locate another office, since they all are closed by that hour. That evening, Hannah diligently researched the location of the second-closest office, and off we trudged for a long subway ride. No, we were told, you must go to a different agency in another part of the city. More trudging, another Metro ride; this time, we were given a map with directions to yet a third office. We arrived in good time, to find 19 people ahead of us in line, but the civil servants processed the crowd efficiently. Still no luck: further instructions, another form, a different location. Now it was 1:30 p.m. and we had an apartment to view in yet another neighborhood. Back to the Metro. Running a few minutes late, we virtually ran from the Metro station to the apartment, only to be stood up. Well, it was a crummy neighborhood, anyway. Ah, but we spied a nearby creperie and chocolate place, and flopped our exhausted and foot-sore selves down, only to discover that not only were there no crepes and no chocolate, but it had the atmosphere of a smoky sauna.
Nevertheless, we are thoroughly enchanted by Barcelona. Public art is everywhere; design is evident even at the beach, where an assemblage of concrete lounging chairs resembles an art installation. This is one designed city. Spanish life is lived outdoors to a large extent, and this is a city that seems to want to make the outdoors as convenient and attractive as possible for its citizens and visitors. I am particularly struck by the brilliant idea of providing, at reasonable cost, racks of bicycles everywhere in the city; take one when needed and return it to any other location. (See www.bicing.com for details.)
Today, while Hannah napped, exhausted from having had to rise early for the new-student orientation at the American School, I ventured to the area surrounding La Sagrada Familia, and delighted in the proliferation of tiny shops displaying their truly superior wares like precious gems. The bakeries! The cheese and meat shops! The fruterias (fruit and vegetable markets)! I scooped up a sack of artesanally produced magdalenas (tiny muffins), intriguing pastries, crusty baguettes, aged manchego cheese. Note: these places are definitely not self-service! I ran afoul of local custom by actually handling a very pretty head of leaf lettuce- the proprietess snatched it from my hand as if I had tried to pilfer it, with a stern look. Apparently, it is proper to point to what you want and have it held up for your inspection and approval, then bagged. No matter, I carried away several verdant trophies.
Tomorrow is a big day, with Hannah starting school and me potentially signing a rental contract. So I will end here, pour myself another glass of the very good and very cheap rose wine purchased in a little shop (try 1,20 Euros a bottle, around $1.60!), and watch the sun set over the cathedral towers. Not a bad way at all to begin the adventure.
Our first day here felt a bit overwhelming as it sunk in that we were going to be here for a long time yet knew no one. (Well, almost no one: Hannah had met a nice young man from Barcelona while on the beach in Nerja and they met for a drink last night, then tried on hats at El Corte Ingles, the local version of Marshall Fields and the High Temple of all things material.) We eased our malaise by observing and commenting upon the doings of an attractive 30-ish couple seven floors below as they played with their two Labrador retrievers, surfed the Web and occasionally embraced.
At last, we are fixed up with wireless Internet access, which I have put to good use arranging viewings of various furnished apartments. We have tentative arrangements with an owner - a language teacher with a fairly good grasp of English - to rent her extremely charming two-bedroom flat near the El Born district - just off a quiet square ringed with cafes and an old church, but close to the fashionable area of clubs and restaurants. Only one bathroom (which may prove fatal to our renting it) and no air conditioning, but a wonderfully equipped kitchen and a rooftop terrace where we could, if we supplied our own patio furniture and plants, enjoy a semblance of an outdoor life. We are keeping that option open while we continue to look.
I had been warned about the horrors of Spanish officialdom, but this drawback came to vivid life on Tuesday as we fruitlessly sought to secure Hannah's student identification card. Monday, we had gone to the nearest district police office, as instructed by the Spanish Consulate in San Francisco, only to find it permanently closed. At 2:30, it was too late to locate another office, since they all are closed by that hour. That evening, Hannah diligently researched the location of the second-closest office, and off we trudged for a long subway ride. No, we were told, you must go to a different agency in another part of the city. More trudging, another Metro ride; this time, we were given a map with directions to yet a third office. We arrived in good time, to find 19 people ahead of us in line, but the civil servants processed the crowd efficiently. Still no luck: further instructions, another form, a different location. Now it was 1:30 p.m. and we had an apartment to view in yet another neighborhood. Back to the Metro. Running a few minutes late, we virtually ran from the Metro station to the apartment, only to be stood up. Well, it was a crummy neighborhood, anyway. Ah, but we spied a nearby creperie and chocolate place, and flopped our exhausted and foot-sore selves down, only to discover that not only were there no crepes and no chocolate, but it had the atmosphere of a smoky sauna.
Nevertheless, we are thoroughly enchanted by Barcelona. Public art is everywhere; design is evident even at the beach, where an assemblage of concrete lounging chairs resembles an art installation. This is one designed city. Spanish life is lived outdoors to a large extent, and this is a city that seems to want to make the outdoors as convenient and attractive as possible for its citizens and visitors. I am particularly struck by the brilliant idea of providing, at reasonable cost, racks of bicycles everywhere in the city; take one when needed and return it to any other location. (See www.bicing.com for details.)
Today, while Hannah napped, exhausted from having had to rise early for the new-student orientation at the American School, I ventured to the area surrounding La Sagrada Familia, and delighted in the proliferation of tiny shops displaying their truly superior wares like precious gems. The bakeries! The cheese and meat shops! The fruterias (fruit and vegetable markets)! I scooped up a sack of artesanally produced magdalenas (tiny muffins), intriguing pastries, crusty baguettes, aged manchego cheese. Note: these places are definitely not self-service! I ran afoul of local custom by actually handling a very pretty head of leaf lettuce- the proprietess snatched it from my hand as if I had tried to pilfer it, with a stern look. Apparently, it is proper to point to what you want and have it held up for your inspection and approval, then bagged. No matter, I carried away several verdant trophies.
Tomorrow is a big day, with Hannah starting school and me potentially signing a rental contract. So I will end here, pour myself another glass of the very good and very cheap rose wine purchased in a little shop (try 1,20 Euros a bottle, around $1.60!), and watch the sun set over the cathedral towers. Not a bad way at all to begin the adventure.
No comments:
Post a Comment