Barcelona Sunday - Gaudi Day

So. The next day, Sunday, was Gaudi day. So we got up early-ish and braved the rowdy crowd at the continental breakfast . . . some of those old ladies and children had sharp elbows around the croissants and cereals, if you know what I mean . . . it takes some determination to fight your way thru . . . they didn’t have an International Herald Tribune on Sunday (just a weekend edition that comes out on saturday), but the hotel did have a “business centre” with a PC and a printer, so I could grab Mrs’s sodokus and crosswords everyday, anyway. She’s just not right, till she’s polished them off, but all I can do is drink coffee without spilling it on myself.

Then Mrs navigated us thru the train system to La Familia Sagrado, where the Gaudi Cathedral is . . . they’ve got 8 towers up now after 150 years, 4 more to go. It’ll be something when it’s finished . . . we just kept saying, “they should bring Cecil (My civil-engineer Step Dad) in on this, he’d finish it up in only 50 more years . . . 8^D . . . “.

The other thing, is it all looks like stuff my friend willie mc in Kerrville would do. The inside columns are all made to look like tree trunks and branches, everything is “organic”, made to look like native flora and fauna from the local region. But still, now, all around the floor are huge pallets of cement mix and mortar and plaster and plastic sheeting and dust . . . lotta work left to do. The styles of the ornamentations out side don’t look consistent, either, some look classical, some look art-deco, some look “modern” – I guess when your project stretches out like that it’s hard to keep consistency . . . 8^D . . .
Well, nothing takes it out me (and my old knees) like walking around a hard cement construction site for a couple of hours, so I started whining for lunch.

Mrs consulted her book for a place nearby and we headed off. Found it, but it was closed, for Sunday or forever, I don’t know. But we doubled back to a place we had seen on the way, Amelia. It wasn’t tapas, but it did look like a little mom-and-pop restaurant, so after perusing the menu, we went in. It was empty, but then again it was only 1 pm, so it could’ve just been too early for the Spaniards to lunch . . .

Mrs got this salad and proclaimed herself entirely satisfied . . . I HAD to have Gorgonzola Ravioli, tho’, with green pesto . . . drubbadrubbadrubbadrubba . . . if that’s not the most sinful thing I ever ate, I don’t know what. . . .

Those were just the starters . . .

For the main course mrs had this seafood soup. I’m glad the restaurant was empty, it would have been too embarrassing otherwise, the nummy-nummy sounds she made while she ate it.

I on the other hand, merely had shrimp brochettes, which were good, but after the orgiastic ravioli I’d already had the prawns seemed almost mundane . . .


the roasted peppers almost did me in, tho’, we can’t get anything like that in PRG, and I had tears in my eyes it was so good – wasn’t THAT hot . . . 8^D . . .


we had a wonderful light white wine with this all, came in a funny shaped bottle, but I didn’t get any information on it. It was catalunyan, tho’, for which we have developed a positive prejudice.
Oddly enough, that seemed to have finished our day for us . . . we staggered to the train, then staggered to the hotel for our siesta, and just never got going again – oh, well, it was a vacation! Tho’ I could hear my mother scolding me “There’s plenty of time to sleep at home!” this is what we did . . . Just as well. I had to work Monday all day, and I needed to fortify myself . . . 8^) . . .

We just watched some Seinfeld shows and a movie I had brought on my computer. That was fun, too. . .