Manof Chpt21

Chapter 21

(One of the magnificent pieces by Gaudi in Barcelona)

The route through the countryside below Toulouse was calming. Bruce watched the farms in the distance and the mountains as they began to rise as he watched Perpignan drift by. They passed close to Ceret, a pretty hillside community where Picasso and some of his artist friends had often traveled.

As they approached the frontier, Bruce got his documents in order. He had been to Spain before, and he was well aware of the bureaucratic police and their 'rules'. When the train stopped, the customs and immigration police with their strange hats and drab uniforms began questioning the travelers.

Looking at Bruce's Papers

They looked at Bruce's papers and discussed the interview with each other. They knew very little English.

"Americano?
"Si"
"Papeles"
Bruce handed over his papers.
"Adonde used va"?
"Ina semana" He was sure a week would be enough.
"Por que usted va alli?

He couldn't tell him why. "Vacaciones…museo", was the best he could do.

The agent passed the papers to a colleague who stamped it and said, "Usted tiene permiso para una semana."

"Adios" from the agents.

"Adios," from Bruce.

He knew a week would be long enough. He smiled. It was an old joke but people often jibed that it took to police officers in Spain to write a ticket. One to write it and one to read it. In any case, they were on their way to sunny Barcelona. Just what Bruce would learn there was a mystery. Still, a week in the city of Gaudi, the Prado and the Museo de Musica couldn't be all bad.

Settling Back to Enjoy the View

He settled back to enjoy the view. In his briefcase he found a small package and a note. He opened the package which was a sandwich of pate and two home made cookies. The note was simple enough.

You can work better if you have eaten something sweet..
I made the cakes myself. If you like them, you may come back sooner. . for more. Good luck…

Before long, the train entered the barn-like station. He collected his bags, consulted an itinerary and hailed a taxi.

"Colon Hotel."

The driver made a comment under his breath. The Hotel was not far away. They drove in silence. The city looked grey and a little tired. Many of the buildings needed repair but people went about their business and the main arteries had fewer cars than Bruce expected.
The hotel had been recommended by Marie Claude who told him that it was recently opened and well located between Las Ramblas, the Cathedral and the old port.

It was a hotel that drew celebrated guests. Juan Miro and Ernest Hemingway had chosen the hotel for its rooftop views of the Gothic district with its narrow streets, ageless palaces and ornate caryatids.

"You can't miss loving it." Marie Claude had told him. "From there you can easily walk to Plaza Catalunya and my favorite restaurant, Els Quatro Gats. I first learned about it by Picasso. It was his favorite hangout when he lived there as a student."

Bruce settled in, changed and went for a walk. He'd get in touch with Carlos Diaz later. What was it that Marie-Claude had said about all work and no play?

Activity Outside the Nearby Cathedral

There was some activity outside the nearby cathedral. Artists were trying to coax people to buy their 'creations', a man played flamenco guitar and a woman, in peasant garb stood at a corner of the avenida and sang operatic arias. She attracted a good number of people but tips were scarce. There was a lot of unemployment in Spain. Bruce listened for a few minutes and left a respectable number of coins. The woman smiled and continued to sing.

Out on the Plaza Catalunya the crowds were heavier. People sat on benches and read newspapers. Small groups gathered to gossip or complain. Children offered to shine shoes, others begged and lovers walked in silence, arm in arm.

It was a pleasant evening but Bruce knew the crowds would soon grow. Barcelona was a city where people left their tiny apartments and used the streets and squares late into the night.

(A street artist at work on Las Ramblas)

On the Ramblas life was more colorful and people more animated. Yet, it was hardly crowded. He walked towards the harbor, under the trees to the sound of caged birds being sold amidst the flower stalls where the air smelled so sweet. Here there were many street performers vying for attention.

Something for Every Taste...

There seemed to be something for every taste. He wandered off into the old town where there was a confusion of narrow streets and alleys. At the heart of the area was the Barrio Gotic the old nucleus with twisting streets and many historic buildings. He had walked in a circle and found himself back on the Plaza de Catalunya. There he laid out a map and studied the city around him. He marked a few landmarks he wanted to visit including the Segrada Familia, Gaudi's beautiful work in progress.

Beyond the placa there was a more modern commercial city known as the Eixample with thrusting expansion and unique architecture. He wanted to visit Montserrat monastery if there was time. But that depended on Carlos. He would contact him in the morning. Now it was time for dinner.

He consulted his notebook. Marie-Claude had suggested certain restaurants and typical Catalan food. He wanted something authentic and lively. He settled on Carballeira near the Art school La Lotya and close to where Picasso once lived.

He was not disappointed when he arrived at Carrer de la Reina Cristinas, 3. Marie-Claude had noted that this was the first Galician seafood restaurant set where you can get a view of the harbor area.
It was a pleasant walk and with the coming of darkness, the streets began filling with people.

He arrived at the restaurant before it was full of people. He did know that Barcelona was a late city but he had no idea there would be so few people at ten thirty. He found out it was popular place that filled up quickly soon enough.

The Waiter Spoke English

The waiter spoke English and told him he once lived in Toledo, Ohio. He liked Spain better than America.

Bruce dined on chicken with shellfish. The custom in Catalan cooking was to mix the flavors. He turned down rabbit and snails but accepted the side dishes of fruit and vegetables with raisins and nuts. The house wine was a heady and flavorful local wine. The more he drank, the more he liked it.

Everything was fresh and the tomato taste reminded him of his youth when they picked plum tomatoes right from the vine. The sauce on the snails was made with garlic mayonnaise. For dessert, he tried the figues amb aniset (figs in anise). It made his post dinner cigar taste even better.

It was well after midnight when the restaurant staff called a taxi and Bruce was delivered to his hotel. There was much to be done the next day.

(Click here for Chapter 22)


	Chapter 21 (One of the magnificent pieces by Gaudi in Barcelona) The route through the countryside below Toulouse was calming. Bruce watched the farms in the distance and the mountains as they began to rise as he watched Perpignan drift by. They passed close to Ceret, a pretty hillside community where Picasso and some of his artist friends had often traveled. As they approached the frontier, Bruce got his documents in order. He had been to Spain before, and he was well aware of the bureaucratic police and their 'rules'. When the train stopped, the customs and immigration police with their strange hats and drab uniforms began questioning the travelers. Looking at Bruce's Papers They looked at Bruce's papers and discussed the interview with each other. They knew very little English. "Americano? "Si" "Papeles" Bruce handed over his papers. "Adonde used va"? "Ina semana" He was sure a week would be enough. "Por que usted va alli? He couldn't tell him why. "Vacaciones…museo", was the best he could do. The agent passed the papers to a colleague who stamped it and said, "Usted tiene permiso para una semana." "Adios" from the agents. "Adios," from Bruce. He knew a week would be long enough. He smiled. It was an old joke but people often jibed that it took to police officers in Spain to write a ticket. One to write it and one to read it. In any case, they were on their way to sunny Barcelona. Just what Bruce would learn there was a mystery. Still, a week in the city of Gaudi, the Prado and the Museo de Musica couldn't be all bad. Settling Back to Enjoy the View He settled back to enjoy the view. In his briefcase he found a small package and a note. He opened the package which was a sandwich of pate and two home made cookies. The note was simple enough. You can work better if you have eaten something sweet.. I made the cakes myself. If you like them, you may come back sooner. . for more. Good luck… Before long, the train entered the barn-like station. He collected his bags, consulted an itinerary and hailed a taxi. "Colon Hotel." The driver made a comment under his breath. The Hotel was not far away. They drove in silence. The city looked grey and a little tired. Many of the buildings needed repair but people went about their business and the main arteries had fewer cars than Bruce expected. The hotel had been recommended by Marie Claude who told him that it was recently opened and well located between Las Ramblas, the Cathedral and the old port. It was a hotel that drew celebrated guests. Juan Miro and Ernest Hemingway had chosen the hotel for its rooftop views of the Gothic district with its narrow streets, ageless palaces and ornate caryatids. "You can't miss loving it." Marie Claude had told him. "From there you can easily walk to Plaza Catalunya and my favorite restaurant, Els Quatro Gats. I first learned about it by Picasso. It was his favorite hangout when he lived there as a student." Bruce settled in, changed and went for a walk. He'd get in touch with Carlos Diaz later. What was it that Marie-Claude had said about all work and no play? Activity Outside the Nearby Cathedral There was some activity outside the nearby cathedral. Artists were trying to coax people to buy their 'creations', a man played flamenco guitar and a woman, in peasant garb stood at a corner of the avenida and sang operatic arias. She attracted a good number of people but tips were scarce. There was a lot of unemployment in Spain. Bruce listened for a few minutes and left a respectable number of coins. The woman smiled and continued to sing. Out on the Plaza Catalunya the crowds were heavier. People sat on benches and read newspapers. Small groups gathered to gossip or complain. Children offered to shine shoes, others begged and lovers walked in silence, arm in arm. It was a pleasant evening but Bruce knew the crowds would soon grow. Barcelona was a city where people left their tiny apartments and used the streets and squares late into the night. (A street artist at work on Las Ramblas) On the Ramblas life was more colorful and people more animated. Yet, it was hardly crowded. He walked towards the harbor, under the trees to the sound of caged birds being sold amidst the flower stalls where the air smelled so sweet. Here there were many street performers vying for attention. Something for Every Taste... There seemed to be something for every taste. He wandered off into the old town where there was a confusion of narrow streets and alleys. At the heart of the area was the Barrio Gotic the old nucleus with twisting streets and many historic buildings. He had walked in a circle and found himself back on the Plaza de Catalunya. There he laid out a map and studied the city around him. He marked a few landmarks he wanted to visit including the Segrada Familia, Gaudi's beautiful work in progress. Beyond the placa there was a more modern commercial city known as the Eixample with thrusting expansion and unique architecture. He wanted to visit Montserrat monastery if there was time. But that depended on Carlos. He would contact him in the morning. Now it was time for dinner. He consulted his notebook. Marie-Claude had suggested certain restaurants and typical Catalan food. He wanted something authentic and lively. He settled on Carballeira near the Art school La Lotya and close to where Picasso once lived. He was not disappointed when he arrived at Carrer de la Reina Cristinas, 3. Marie-Claude had noted that this was the first Galician seafood restaurant set where you can get a view of the harbor area. It was a pleasant walk and with the coming of darkness, the streets began filling with people. He arrived at the restaurant before it was full of people. He did know that Barcelona was a late city but he had no idea there would be so few people at ten thirty. He found out it was popular place that filled up quickly soon enough. The Waiter Spoke English The waiter spoke English and told him he once lived in Toledo, Ohio. He liked Spain better than America. Bruce dined on chicken with shellfish. The custom in Catalan cooking was to mix the flavors. He turned down rabbit and snails but accepted the side dishes of fruit and vegetables with raisins and nuts. The house wine was a heady and flavorful local wine. The more he drank, the more he liked it. Everything was fresh and the tomato taste reminded him of his youth when they picked plum tomatoes right from the vine. The sauce on the snails was made with garlic mayonnaise. For dessert, he tried the figues amb aniset (figs in anise). It made his post dinner cigar taste even better. It was well after midnight when the restaurant staff called a taxi and Bruce was delivered to his hotel. There was much to be done the next day. (Click here for Chapter 22)