Very occasionally, I find myself yearning for that little window-- the window next to seat 15A on the bus that had allowed me to peer out into the vast Catalan landscape as we pulled up to the toll gates. Any further up north and we'd be in the south of France, but who'd wanna explore the land of snobs when Catalunya has got such colorful prospects waiting to be discovered?
José met us in front of the creaky, old-fashioned lift that could carry only a maximum of 4 people up to our apartment on the 3rd floor. José spoke a little English, some Castillian, and mostly Catalan, of course. I kept getting my Castillian and Catalan mixed up, but we got along just fine. He passed us 2 sets of keys, ensured we were confident in dealing with the locks, and off he went, his knees creaking like the century-old lift as he scurried down the stairwell, leaving us to explore his city on our own.
Cruising along the coastline of Barcelona.
The old quarters of Barceloneta.
Tree-lined alley in Barceloneta.
Structured architecture in Barceloneta.
Frank Gehry's Peix d'Or ("The Whale") sculpture by the beach.
The iconic metallic cubic installation by Rebecca Horn.