Espana ~ Monserrat, Jack Johnson and Sangria!

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Trip Start Jun 25, 2008 Trip End Aug 20, 2008

  Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain and Canary Islands
Monday, June 30, 2008

My organic food lover friends would be ashamed as to why a pre-wrapped-pasteurized-freezer-burnt-stale-chocolate-hersheys-dipped ice cream cone can taste SO GOOD in the land of tapas and freshly made Sangria.  I'm roaming the streets with echoes of "I Need a Miracle" by Cascade coming from a distant bedroom window, weaving through the narrow alleys of a monastic town.  I'm trapped in the 80's, amidst a jagged limestone mountainous horizon and a statue of a black Virgin Mary that dates back to 50AD. This delicious ice cream dripping down the creases of my fingers is the only thing I've eaten all day and I am enjoying every last morsel.
You'd think that the train arrival time of 1:08 would be an indication that this would be a nothing-less-than-perfect day, completely in the flow of nature.  Wrong.  I've been missing trains and buying the wrong (or maybe the right) tickets all day long.  I'm certainly not complaining or excusing myself, but it could be the lack of sleep from a night (and morning) well spent with my buddies

Jack rockin' it out

.  Dancing like a flashdance maniac to a live concert by Jack Johnson, G-Love and Mason Jennings at the Barcelona Olympic Stadium... followed by a palette of tapas that would put the La Jolla Roppongi's to shame and soft splashes of red and white Sangria in between. Joanna (my beautiful Salsa sista who is a teacher and surfer extraordinaire in Encinitas), Anne (a mutual friend) and her two brothers and I tore up the tapas bar till 3am... this I say partially under my breath since that's the time the Spanish women are gearing up, slipping on their low cut v-neck tanks and, loading up on lip gloss for a night on the town! Do they sleep here?
So here I am, trying to find my way to Monserrat.  I've gotten off at the wrong destination twice already (my fault for not asking - but today was a day I didn't really want to talk to anyone).  It's just NO BUENO when you accidentally get off at the wrong stop, the next train isn't for another hour, you have to go #2, and there are no toilets anywhere in sight.  Let's just say walking feels awkwardly warm after speed-waddling to the nearest shady pine tree, dropping your drawers in Malasana (meanwhile praying to Shiva that no one is hunting birds nearby), taking a dump while hearing rattlesnakes in the proximity, and having to wipe with a rock, a sliver of driftwood, and three pieces of my precious journal paper.  Ouch. Double Ouch Ouch.
Nevertheless, my pilgrimage to Monserrat continued and after finally asking a few people the "right" questions (and understanding the right answers), I am on a tram to the top of the 4,000 foot Monastery

A typical city street

.  Since my trip to South America in 2006, I haven't had any problems with speaking in Latin countries.  My thpanish ith thtill thufficient exthept for this damn listhp thing I have to get uthed to.  The Spaniards/Catalans pronounce their "s" as "th".  That might be the perfect solution for all the children with lisps out there.  Send them to Spain and what was once an insecurity suddenly turns into the common bond! 
I've been in Spain for four days now.  After 1 two-hour car ride, 4 plane rides, 3 layovers, 2 train rides and a 15 minute walk in less than 29 hours (for a free ticket using only 50,000 frequent flyer miles J), I am here.  It took me a while to get on track but I just keep thinking it's like an adventure race... except I don't have to mountain bike 100 miles and when I arrive to the transition area, I can have Sangria instead of Gatorade!  Arriving at the airport was a little shocking come to find out that they allow smoking everywhere in Spain.  Regardless, I felt at home arriving to a country full of brightly dressed and smiling people celebrating life. I actually found myself wanting to speak with an Argentine flair.  Spain is very similar to Argentina... (besides the fact that it is 9 times more expensive).  Oh, and everyone at home will be excited to know that gas is considered "cheap" in the states! Don't own a car in Barcelona unless you want to pay nearly $8.00/gallon for gasolina.  Spain, however, is considered a first world country and the worst crime that made the headlines of the newspaper was a tourist getting pick-pocketed.  (No, her name was not Tiffany.) Spain knows how to turn up the volume compared to Argentina.  This is the first time in my life I have every had to wear ear plugs while sleeping, and I can still hear Lucia and Julio making out in the back of the bar across the street.
Trevor's apartment is super cool

Photo bomb at the Jack Johnson concert

.  His glass living room wall overlooks the entire alleyway and a wine bar.  It rests at the base of Montjuic Hill which overlooks all of Barcelona and is the foundation to a magic fountain, a castle and a Spanish Village.  He is a skip away from the infamous La Rambla, the best known landmark of Barcelona.  You can't visit here without haphazardly bouncing into this street that stretches from Plaza de Catalunya to the Columbus statue, filled with newspaper kiosks, flower and animal stalls, and street buskers galore. It is the melting pot of the tourists and locals, from the full body tattooed "trippies" to the blonde, freckled Swiss family of nine. If the street formers all formed a merry band, they could do some serious damage in Vegas.  From human devils sitting in treasure chests to puppet skeletons impersonating James Brown to a fully white painted yellow-toothed dude sitting on a toilet who makes farting noises and laughs when you drop a coin in his tin cup.  And if I thought the streets were wild during the days, the nights proved me a serious novice.  This IS the land of tapas, wine, socialism and passion.  Oh, and not to mention their impeccable passion for futbol.  I just so happen to arrive on the biggest day in futbol history as Spain won the European championships for the first time in 44 years! I haven't gotten to Southern Spain yet but the feel here is certainly romantic, historic and rich in culture.  The finishline-prayer-flag-streamline of clothes strung across the roof terraces and the narrow alleyways of cute triangular balconies and rod-iron doors remind me of the "City Streets" Show at Sea World (remember Kim?)
Trevor and I busted out a handstand/arm balancing yoga sesh to live music of cool metal, oval spaceship drums, smack dab in the middle of the plaza King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella got down..

Skeleton impersonating James Brown???

. just around the corner from where Columbus walked up the stairs and delivered the New World to her Highness in 1493. Lunches at sweet little corner cafes, sight seeing of Gaudi's houses (soon to see the park and Sagrada Familia tomorrow), visited Trevor's bar, Carabella.  Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less from our hip and social Trevor Hawkins... working at the funkiest bar in town that means "beautiful face" in Spanish and serves hummus and pita bread, fresh juice and rockin Platanella smoothies (Trev's invention of banana, milk, ice and cinnamon!) Mmmm.
For those of you who don't know Trevor, he is my... "brudder". And I am his "sidder." Basically, our siblings, Chuck and Kim, are married.  We got tired of trying to label our relation.  "I'm his brother's wife's sister.  He's my sister's husband's brother." So now we're just "brudder" and "sidder" - or here... "Hermanos".  He has been such a gracious host letting me stay in his glass castle.  He has introduced me to all of his friends (No girls, no future husbands yet!) There's been a significant amount of socializing lately.  For this reason, I took a full day time out to do Montserrat... by myself.
And by myself I am.  The trusty Cremallera (sounds like a pastry shop but it's really just a big green tram on tracks that takes you all the way up the mountain to where I originally wanted to go at 1:08pm.)  So now I stand in awe of this majestic stretch of ginormous (yes that's a word) limestone peaks that look like the fingers of the Rock Eater from The Neverending Story.  Some spires look a little more like male private parts excited to bathe in the summer sunshine.  Seems to be a theme lately, as Barcelona has this massive penis shaped building (The Torre Agbar, which people call the "Fallus" or literally the "Penis Building") that sticks straight out of the city neighborhoods and can be seen just about anywhere

La Boquerilla famous colorful market

! (you gotta see the photo) Nobody wants to believe anymore that the iconography that the architect meant for the office tower was that of a fountain.  By night, it could certainly serve as a perfect ad for colored Trojans. (Sorry mom, I know I didn't need to share that detail, but it was too profound and metaphoric to pass up)... Spain is indeed, ALWAYS EXCITED!
So back to the Montserrat.  The mountain range is Spectacular.  I arrive at the top of the cable car and am in Tiff Heaven! Dozens of trails that lead into tiny crevasses and soaring rock walls, 4 foot high doorways and old stone ovens and caves, and natural limestone staircases.  According to Catholic tradition, the statue of the Black Virgin of Montserrat was carved by St. Luke around 50 AD and brought to Spain. It was later hidden from the Moors in a cave (Santa Cova, the Holy Grotto), where it was rediscovered in 880 AD.  According to the legend of the discovery, the statue was discovered by shepherds. They saw a bright light and heard heavenly music that eventually led them to the grotto and the statue.
I had my own little free-climb session (my sister would have probably shot me if she'd known I tried it without a rope).  I must say, I was practicing some major breathing, self-coaching and "om namah shivayas" along the climb. A little faith under my feet paid off as the view from the top was exalting.  I could see above all the climbers on the adjacent fingers and an aerial view of the monastery that caused me to reconsider my ability to fly

Tiff, Charles, Trevor and Joanna at Carabella

.  I took a blissful nap in the sun, limbs extended in all directions, receiving kisses on my eyelids from the rays of the sunshine.  I meditated, sang Ommmms to the sacred holy piece of earth, and honored the grace of the Virgin Mary left many years ago.
108 "Om Namah Shivayas" later, I was down the hill and in the Basilica to bust out a few Hail Mary's and listen to the choir and take photos of the candle vigilance in honor of my mother.  Yep mom, I went to church on Sunday!  A perfect ending to a rather adventurous day.
Tomorrow I will hike the Pyrenees... the Alps of Spain.  Trevor and his consort, Saskia, are going to guide the group so it should be a blast.  Wednesday, I am off to visit a friend of the Anusara kula, Christine, in Granada... supposedly where the real Spanish Flamenco flair will be alive and ssssizzling.  We'll see if Shirley (my party girl counter personality) can hang with the twirly skirts and colored fans...
Con Amor de Ethhhhpanya!
Tiff

Post your own travel photos for friends and family More Pictures

The Penis Building!	Aerial View of the Monastery	The Basilica	Monserrat Ridgeline
Creepin' thru Monserrat	Bike riding thru the city	Can you see the climbers on top?	Candle Vigilence
Night #1 in Barcelona	The wall at the Tapas Bar	The white toilet/farting busker!

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