Kevin’s Barcelona Week, a.k.a. “Montserrat ain’t just a mountain.”

By: Kevin | December 25th, 2008

What you see here is my backyard. Outside, it’s about 1 degree. That’s F, not C for you folks doing the Celsius conversion in your heads. That white stuff, for the uninformed, is snow. Lots of it. About 14 inches deep where yours truly hasn’t routed out a path to the street. The word you’re searching for is “Lordy!”

Which is why today seems an exceptional day to sit down and write (briefly) about my wonderful trip to Barcelona.

After scuttling out of Chicago in the teeth of a winter storm, and dealing with the “boarding procedure” of Iberia (everybody get in line and get on the plane), we arrived in Madrid, for a thankfully brief layover before the flight to Barcelona. Non-stops from Chicago to Barcelona are rumored, but it would take a hell of a pilot to land a big jet here.

I roll up to Customs, and the guard manning the booth says, even before I hand him my passport, “You’re famous!” I said “No, I’m just here on vacation.” “No,” he insists. “You’re famous!”

At this point, my wife is laughing her butt off, and I just hand him my passport. He looks at it, looks at me, hands it back and looks at me some more, somehow convinced that I just put one over on him.

And into the city we went, to our fabulous rental at 64 Passeig de Gracia. Its modern fabulousness was the first very positive harbinger of the trip’s goodness.

It was Thursday, and we were frankly, exhausted. We took a very minor tour of the area to get our bearings, and settled down for my first experience with xocolata, a drink I would describe as better than a lot of sex I’ve had in my life.

It is, essentially, molten dark chocolate that you consume with a spoon….or an intravenous drip, had I had my way. There is no analog available in Chicago, which is just as well, as the next time Genis saw me, I would have to purchase a second airplane seat to accomodate my excess avoirdupois.

By the by, our apartment was flanked by two Gaudi buildings, Casa Battlo and La Pedrera.

We did scads of museum hopping, including the National Catalan Art Museum, which was staggering, and lots of smaller museums, such as the Fundacio Francisco Godia, which is the art collection of a former Formula One driver with exceptional taste.

Every one that we visited, from the Egyptian Museum to the Maritime Museum was spectacular, in part because I love museums.

Not that museums were the point of the trip. There were two matches to get out of the way. The reports are already done by Isaiah, but for those who have never been to a match at the Camp Nou and are planning to do so, be in your seat about 10 minutes before match time. The singing of the Himno is soul-stirring, particularly before a big match such as Valencia.

And yes, the matches, even the loss to Shakhtar, were amazing, just for the experience. To be sitting in a seat in the Camp Nou, watching the team you love….it’s pretty much indescribable. For those planning to hit a match who aren’t Socis, you can still get tickets, and pretty good ones usually, for almost any match except El Clasico. With a stadium that seats north of 95,000, it’s never truly, truly sold out. It’s certainly easier taking advantage of the pre-sale period for socis, but fear not if you’re planning a trip and want to get tix. You can also buy them in advance through the official site, which also works very, very well.

And yeah, yeah, it was great to have the charter member of the HFC be sitting in the stands as Henry nailed the hat trick in such an important match. I can also report that the metal railings at the Camp Nou are hard. You might not want to pound them with your hand, in exultant glee. Just saying.

But I’m not even sure that the matches were the highlight of the trip. On Sunday, we met our very own Genis, his wife Maricruz and his 82 year-old mother, Montserrat who, like the monument, is irrepressible. She decides that she is going to walk somewhere, and off she goes, into the distance. And yes, you know me, but this is Genis:

No, I can’t explain why we have the same smile/smirk on our faces. Must just be an Offside bonding thing.

Genis and his family are the nicest people I have met in a very, very long time. Along with the indefatigable Montserrat, we visited the Festival of Santa Llucia, home of the caganer, churches, an abbey, a place we’ll have to visit next time, where you can take an underground tour, lunch at the famous Four Cats, got an education in jamon Iberico, and great, great company.

The rest of the trip continued as it began, with very nice people (much nicer than Parisians, in general) and we never had a bad meal. The gelato tour of the city also went very well. The winner was Patagonia, just to the side of La Rambla.

My general impressions of Barcelona (this week was the most time I have ever spent in the city) were exceptional, greatly enhanced to be sure by the wonderful Sunday. And like the French, Spaniards aren’t shy about staring, which they did. At me. A lot. It was always the same look that the guard at the airport had: “I know him….who is that?” It was pretty funny, and we got used to it pretty quickly, since we get the same thing in France.

I also came away from the trip determined to learn Catalan. Thankfully, the Instituto Cervantes here in Chicago offers classes (we hope….they need 5 students, and they have 4 as of last week). If the class isn’t offered, we’ll look up the teacher and see if he will take us on privately.

Because I’m going back, and not just for matches. Barcelona gets in your soul. I agree with Genis, in that it’s definitely a “she,” and what a woman.

But I promised to keep this short, and this is already longer than I had anticipated. So if there are any questions, I’ll deal with them in the comments.

Thanks for reading.