Sunday, Sunday

Some of you (well, just Hannah) have been complaining about the alleged infrequency of my posts of late. Realize, dear readers, that if I am to have something to post, I need to be out doing and seeing things. And I have been gathering material for you.

While the mornings have taken on a crisp edge, the midday hours are still warmed by a benevolent sun here, perfect for afternoons of exploration. This past Sunday brought to a close the three-day holiday weekend initiated by National Hispaniola Day, which marks the alleged discovery of America by Columbus. Despite the presence of the towering column near the harbor crowned by a likeness of Spain's favorite explorer, Barcelona didn't seem to get very excited about the occasion. As usual, half of the city either left town or went to the beach.

Barry rang me in the morning to ask if I felt like going for a bicycle ride. We met at Cafe Zurich, at the top of the Placa Catalunya Metro stop, then strolled over to the harbor to rent bikes from his old acquaintance, Alex. The Parc de la Ciudad, with its zoo and its wide walkways, is closed to traffic on Sundays, and is perfect for wheeling through on a cruiser, zig-zagging to avoid the strollers, darting children, and meandering couples. Leaving the park, we zagged to the beach, where we paused for ice cream and coffees and I ogled the diverting boardwalk parade.

Two hours later, we rolled back to the bike rental, where Alex invited us to stay for coffees, procured from the Greek cafe next door. He then reached for his guitar and broke into a version of "This Land is Your Land," the opener for a medley of American folk tunes, John Denver hits, and Brazilian bossa nova, usually to the accompaniment of Alex's Satchmo-like scatting, my harmonizing, and Barry's air piano. Soon, Alex had invited the Irish couple seated nearby to join us. John plays and sings at bars throughout his hometown of Limerick, and serenaded us with a stirring Christy Moore love song in his light Irish brogue. We ended with a rousing version of "Hotel California" that nearly had the cafe on its feet.

As we threaded through the narrow passages of the old city in search of a grocery, shouldering our way through the strolling pairs and groups of Muslim men, Barry noticed this vision on the pavement that turned out to be the late afternoon sun glowing through a pharmacy sign. I love Sunday afternoons in Barcelona.

Click to see more photos from my Sunday afternoon.