I'm not from Barcelona

Cause I already made the joke, can I throw it out there that "I'm From Barcelona" is the most uncreative, uninsightful, and typical name for an indie band.  Their music is abhorrent, too.

But yeah, I went there last weekend.  I had been before a few years ago, but this trip certainly left a very mixed impression in my mind.  Sure, it is beautiful, the food is delicious, everyone parties all night long, and it is leagues cheaper than Parigi.  That's a given.  But, Barcelona is distinctly not Paris.  The overwhelming and irritating presence of sleazy whores and cerveza-hash sellers all over the city is troubling, to say the least.  The pickpockets are everywhere.  Everywhere.  Over four days, I had five run-ins with thieves.  Some more subtle than others, but none successful.  Sometimes there was a front, an obviously maligned attempt to charm naive tourists before grabbing a back pocket, and other times, it was just a not-so-subtle threat of force.  

As all of this went on, I thought about the Bresson film "Pickpocket," and more than anything, as Jon not so subtly told an attempted thief, "you're absolutely terrible at your job.  Find a new profession."  I don't know what to say other than, you would expect someone intent on making money by stealing to at least show a little bit of finesse--hell, even Bernie Madoff managed that.  After one older man unsuccessfully  tried to take Jon's wallet, as we walked away, his friend apologized and then tried to sell us hash.  Seriously?  I guess I'm shocked that the general

 tourist naiveté was outdone by the pickpockets' general naiveté.

I was able to get back to Paris in one piece with wallet in pocket, even if missing my easyjet flight probably cost me more than a would-be thief.  The real thiefs work at the airport.  They took the cool corkscrew I bought when I went through security, too.

On the other hand, it is a beautiful city, and I did eat like a king.  The main market is sensational.  Hundreds of stands boast every kind of vegetable, animal, and fish known to man, and to our delight, the juice of every fruit at 1E .  Kiwi is a severely underrated juice.

As a general repercussion of living in a landlocked city for months, I was the most fascinated by the seafood section, with its vast array of shelled life I didn't know existed. I particularly liked this one shot.  I'm not really sure what this fishmongress is doing, but I do wonder whether or not she washes her banana before she touches raw fish.

Paella and red wine.

"Razor clams." Delicious.

There was also a fair bit of exploring Gaudi buildings.  Everyone you know has been to Barcelona and posted pictures of themselves in front of that mosaic iguana in Parc Guel on facebook, but it does truly go without saying that his architectural style is totally unique and beautiful.  I found Casa Batlo extremely mystifying and I can only hope that one day I have the capital to rent out the building for my own private usage.  You know, when I win the lotto.

I thought that the scene was awful Hitchcockian and I would not have been at all surprised to see this woman in black jump from the roof à la Vertigo.  Maybe she already did, and this is really her.  Well the roof is a brilliantly colored architectural beauty, and I was happy to walk around it for far too much time taking in the long-awaited sun.  The interior was equally beautiful, although half the building is actually owned by private citizens, who actually get to live and work there.  Fuck them I paid 13E admission.

All in all, it was an enjoyable trip and highs, lows, and cadences.