Take Your Marks... Go!

Today was one of those days that followed the pattern of the rabbit from the Rabbit and the Hare story: sprints followed by a little R&R.  I got to work excited to build on my progress from yesterday  My PI, Ignasi, had to take his son to a doctor's appointment this morning and was coming in for the afternoon.  That meant that I had to dry my samples using nitrogen gas and read all of the packets on each patient and sample and translate all the Spanish medical acronyms into something intelligible. Earlier this week, I had put together a 3-page list of Spanish medical acronyms with the help of Mireia, a godsend doctor who works in our lab AND does clinic duties.  Oh, and she has two kids, a husband, and the youthful appearance of a 24-year old.  Did I mention that she's the nicest person ever?  She's got to be magical.  Anyway, I spent the morning translating the Spanish medical equivalent of Tongues to something intelligible.  I also now read creatinine levels (indicative of kidney function) like a boss.

As the dedicated family members who read this blog already know, heart transplants are a personal topic for me.  Members of my extended family have had quite a few heart transplants; at one point, one of my relatives was the youngest person (at 14) to have a heart transplant in the US.  Reading the files of these patients is therefore somewhat sad and very humbling.  The doctor's sparse, objective talk belies a worsening situation and a patient on the brink of death.  It's a bit of a reality check.

Anyway, I worked diligently all morning so that I would be prepared for Ignasi's arrival.  We returned from lunch and... he wasn't there.  In fact, he didn't come in for the rest of the day, so I sat at my desk waiting.  I hope his son's okay.  Since I'd done all the work that I had and, after reading about 60 articles last week, I've read most of the relevant literature, I sort of hung out at the office for the rest of the day, awaiting the Grand Poobah's arrival.  At first, my efforts were scholarly and included reading over the patient files and perfecting my Excel spreadsheets.  As the afternoon wore on, though, my reading became simply health related  (NPR's health blogs), then more superficial news (coughMSNhomepagecough), and then simply tragic.  I was laughing hysterically to myself about how The Way Back, a movie about prisoners who escape from a Soviet prison and trek to India (based on the book The Long Road), is this super serious, depressing (and eventually uplifting) story

and all the movie won was an award for Best Makeup.  And that's when it hit me that I really needed to just shut down the computer and go home.  It was 4:45 pm, so I chatted with my coworkers and then walked to the Metro just before 5.

Once home, I had a bit of free time and decided to look up all things Barcelona related.  One of the many things I stumbled upon was a Barcelona Photo Blog, which I perused for quite a while.  It was exciting when I recognized something, though I've only been in the city for two weeks.  I even wrote the guy an e-mail telling him I appreciated his work and got a nice response telling me that comments like mine were what made all the late nights worth it.  Awwww!

Since I still had over an hour until the running group, I decided to call my friend Nico from yesterday.  I figured, what the hell, it can't hurt to find out more.  So I got out my map and opened it up in search of the little napkin scrap with his phone number on it.  Nothing fell out.  Nothing was stuck to the map.  The napkin scrap was gone.  It must have fallen out at La Boqueria Market yesterday, which means it's gone forever.  But hey, go big or go home, right?  I walked to the Metro and went to the beach.  And there it was: Opium Mar BCN.  A little less swanky by daylight, when it's overshadowed by the endless blue of ocean meets sky.  After evading one of the promoters who was aggressively handing out fliers to every girl on the sidewalk, I walked down into the open club.  It was empty, so down, down, down I went.  Still empty.  I walked though the dance area, out toward the bar and restaurant.  Finally, I spotted a man, far too well-dressed and attractive to be there by accident, and asked for Nico.  He looked confused, asked around, and informed me that nobody named Nico worked there, then asked if he could help me.  I thanked him, left, and immediately huffed down the beach to Nico's father's bar, Las Vegas, for an explanation.  Except that, when you're walking and not running, it takes a really long time to get all the way down the beach.  And the Las Vegas signs were nowhere to be seen.  I was beginning to think I'd made the whole thing up.  And then - AHA - I spotted it.  I walked up, asked for Nico, and was pointed toward someone in a hat.  I asked him for Nico, and he told me, in Spanish, to leave my CV with him.  At that point, I was done.  I didn't even want to be a waitress, and I was certainly not going to wade through the sticky details of working without a permit if I didn't need the job and wasn't being sought for a position.  It's been a fun 36 hours, guys, but the WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON episode has come to a close.  I decided to enjoy being at the beach, and took a stroll along the Barceloneta shore.

During my run yesterday, I spotted men using this playground as a free gym.  Apparently, it's not just an off-hours use of the equipment!

I didn't remember seeing this statue before, but it's kind of cool in an odd, modern way.

These guys were jamming by the side of the beach.  If you stuck around for a few minutes, you realized they were actually playing Star Wars theme song renditions.

 A new sand sculpture! With fire!

Once I got back to my apartment, I threw on my running clothes and jogged past the Arc de Triom

to the near entrance of Parc de Ciutadella (Citadel Park).

Citadel Park seems to be Barcelona's response to Madrid's El Retiro, on a smaller scale.  I arrived a few minutes early and stretched, looking for other runners who paused at the entrance.  People began to congregate a few meters away, so I introduced myself.  I was the only newbie; the rest run together nearly every week. Though I had only seen 4 people signed up on the MeetUp website, about 15 people showed up.  Finally, at about 8:15, we headed out.  Our 10k route took us through the park, down to the shore of Barceloneta, along the shore to the W hotel, through the town part of Barceloneta, then back to the park.  Though it was supposed to be my easier run day, I decided to run with the fast group since I'd been talking to those people anyway.  I managed to stay with them for the first 3-4 k, then decided this wasn't a good idea and slowed down.  It felt great to really run, though.  Maybe by the end of the summer I'll be able to run with them the whole time (a lofty goal).  To give you an idea of the company I am now keeping, tonight I joined a running group that is mostly composed of academics and biotech people, most of whom have PhDs and all of whom are fascinating.  The group also boasts among its usual members the world champion for 24-hour running races on sand.  I was slightly grateful he wasn't there today, or the fast group might have run even faster.  At the end of the run, I participated in a weekly tradition: the Finisher's Photo.

While the other runners invited me out for a beer afterward (another weekly tradition), I told them that I had a few more miles to get home.  There were general mumblings about, "Aha, now we know how the US is taking over the world! It's full of people like her!" but all were good natured and I was glad to have made an impression.  I hear that the Monday runs are up Mountjuic, so stay posted.

Spotted: A modeling shoot on the beach!  At first, I was observing this statue, which seemed pretty darn cool.  But then I saw one of those guys with the big oval aluminum-like light-directing thingymabobs and knew some sort of photoshoot had to be happening.  I rounded the statue in time to see a model, in clothes that were too ridiculous to not be designer, posing at the corner of this statue.  The photographer was telling her to put one foot up on the other knee, which seemed awfully hard to do while standing on the precipice of the statue base and wearing 6-inch heels.  But she was very game.

Pro modeling tip: during photoshoots, people apparently just shake their head around like they’re in a hair band music video, and the photographer is responsible for catching you at a moment when you don’t look like you’re suffering from whiplash.  If you see me doing this in future photos and I don’t look like something out of a Gucci ad campaign, blame the photographer.

The Early Bird Gets Everything

While at first I doubted my decision to roll out of bed early, I was quickly rewarded.  I headed down to Barceloneta, which I’d been hoping to explore, and was greeted by a stunning sunrise.  It was so stunning, in fact, that I asked a photographer to snap a photo and send it to me.

I continued along the beach, out on piers and through the sand.  I finally reached a last stretch, turned around, and headed back.  As I hit my stride, someone shouted out (in Spanish) “Hey! Didn’t I see you at Opium?”  I was so surprised that I stopped, and met a nice guy named Nico.  It turns out that he works at the club and had overheard me speaking Spanish and English.  He asked me on the spot to be a waitress.  At what is apparently the most exclusive club in Barcelona, when it’s not only catering to 35-year olds on special holidays.

I have no idea what their offer will be, if anything actually comes from it.  It’s sort of one of those why the hell not see what happens things.  Given that the club closes at 6 am, when I get up, and that the only reason that I ran into this guy is because he was closing up Opium and his dad’s beach bar when I was up running, I highly doubt that this will work out.  But it’s a fun thought, right?  And hey, I managed to get offered a job in country where 50% of my age group is unemployed.  While that’s depressing for the kids my age, it’s sort of an ego boost for me.

As if the day could get any better, someone had brought a huge platter of delicious pastries to lab in the morning.  Tiny chocolate croissants; soft, flaky, cream-filled tubes, a flat sheet of apple tarts – I would have taken a pictures, but it was gone so fast.  Since most people in my (cardiovascular research) lab are mindful of their health and do not indulge in myriad pastries, they all goaded me into finishing the leftovers.  I was more than happy to oblige.  Now that they know how much I like food, they take a sincere pleasure in watching me try new things.

BUT WAIT – there’s more.  Another part of our lab that does more biochemical aspects (Western blots, gel electrophoresis, metabolite extraction) down the hall had a warm breakfast brioche of sweet ham and bits of melted cheese.  Celia, who is a goddess, shrugged off our praise at her beautiful creation, which we tore to shreds.

Alright, enough about food (for a paragraph).  Work today flew by, because I was working with my hands and really engaged in what I was doing, which is exactly what I love about benchwork.  I spent the day perfecting my technique for extracting metabolites, all those pesky little molecules that link together the body’s networks so that they can communicate.  I like to picture metabolites swarming like ants

around the body, although that’s a bit melodramatic and chemically inaccurate.  By the end of the day, Ignasi said my extractions were perfect, and I think so, too.  It’s sort of weird when you realize that you can see where one clear liquid ends and another begins, because if you stop and think about that for a second it seems somehow wrong.

And finally, the day ended as it began: with adventure and lots of food.  I went to La Boqueria market, famous for its fresh produce, variety, and a few delicious tapas restaurants.  It’s widely considered one of the best markets in Europe, and is super duper old.  It’s been around in one form or another since 1217, when it was known as the Straw Market, but its current incarnation dates back to about 1850.  Through thick and thin, it’s been bustling, supplying locals, tourists, and top-tier restaurants alike.  I wandered around for about half an hour by myself, overwhelmed by the people and shouted prices and colors,

An array of nuts and candies

A painter capturing the color and life of the entrance to the market

Fresh seafood!

Just need to figure out what all the Spanish names for fish mean.

Fruits and veggies, and very saucy salesmen (one told me his recommendation was to buy food for two and invite him to join me)

More candies!

Chocolate hedgehogs (to see real-life hedgehogs in chocolate, click here.)

The rejected auditioners for  Veggie Tales

before being joined by Naaman and making a few purchases.    I bought some churros soaked in honey (not particularly good, but a bit like the Indian dish gulab jamun), cherries, herbed meatballs to cook later this week, and a few apricots and peaches.  Being in La Boqueria Market is a rush, from the skinned sheeps’ heads staring up at you to the lush colors of fresh fruit.  Naaman and I made several resolutions:

(1)    We will try one of every candy (this is physically impossible without inducing Type II Diabetes on the spot, but I plan on trying as many as possible)

(2)    We will return almost every week to stock up on delicious food

(3)    I will buy some fish, so that I can finally use my spices from Turkey from last summer (shame on me)

(4)    We will try one of the famous tapas places here

It’s going to be wonderful fun.

Afterward, in true Naaman and Jess fashion, we wandered around the shore and absorbed the beauty of the city.

La Rambla del Mar, a modern wood bridge continuation of the iconic Las Ramblas street.  Note the statues in the middle of the water, which are just out of reach of little docks with benches favored by local couples.

Note my ruby slippers, which added even more to the feeling that I'm very, very far from home but on a wonderful adventure.  Also, appreciate the last days of my hair, which will be donated upon my return.

And, to end things off right – Spotted: a strange land of strange lab etiquette.  Here in Spain, or at least at my research institute, lab standards are far more relaxed.  I had planned to go to work every day in my leather boots or running sneakers, in accordance with Yale University precautions for footwear.  Here, I feel tame in my ballet flats.  Women in wedges and peep toe heels promenade around with their Eppendorf tubes, pipettes, and boxes of animal hearts.  Additionally, the attitude of food and water in the lab is strangely lax, an area where I have not reduced my standards.  People wander through with food, including one spotting of someone holding a cookie in their mouth as they picked up their samples.  Rest assured, Yale and RB and worrying parents, I will manage not to poison myself or lose any of my feet/toes while I am here.

Endorphins and Other Drugs

Today, I stepped away from the literature and into real hands-on work for the first time at my new research position, which I celebrated by finally putting on my lab coat.

I spent part of the morning observing a brain tumor trial in mice, where the two investigators (one being Ignasi, my PI/Lab Grand Poobah) are testing how the tumors of different people create new tumors in the brains of rats injected with their cancerous tissues.  The tumors can show up as bright white spots, or be diffuse enough that things just don't look right.  Or they could just not get a tumor.  The funny part is, after the rats are anesthetized, they wrap them in bubble wrap so they don't get cold inside the machine.  Here they are, hooking their little rat teeth on a hook so they don't slip out of place while the little critters are dolled up like a piece of china that's about to be chucked in a FedEx box.  The mice were pretty darn cute, scurrying around.

The rest of the morning was spent between activities doing some serious lab bonding.  Now that the word is out that I'm a runner, all of the other runners in the lab are casually suggesting we have awesome running experiences together.  I'm already going running with Ignasi later this week in the mountains behind our hospital, and today I signed up for a 10k with two other lab members, Marcos and Victor.  Here's how it happened: during the massive amounts of Googling that I've done over the last few days, I unearthed a number of fascinating activities in Barcelona.  One of them was a race this Saturday in the neighboring town of Badalona (the black sheep of the Catalan shore town family), starting from the shore, going through the town, and circling/climbing a mountain before returning through the city.  Oh, and this is all at night, among thousands of other people wearing headlamps and whooping it up.  Brilliant, right?  I think I'm going to like it here.  So anyway, the entire website was in Catalan and handily defeated Google Translate, so I waited until I got to lab and asked my lab mates if they knew anything about the race.  Nobody did, but they all thought it sounded awesome.  One glitch: it's full, and I'm now on the waiting list.  Fingers crossed, though!  Anyway, this discussion prompted an invitation to join Marcos and Victor in two weeks for... La Maquinista! (http://www.lamaquinista.com/W/do/centre/cursaintegraciolamaquinista)

It’s just a 10k triangular loop around part of the city, but the important parts are (1) lab bonding and (2) it’s a random part of the city that I haven’t been to.  Plus, it's an excuse to go for yet another run.

My afternoon was both chillier and more hands-on at the lab.  I finally dove into the -70 degree Celsius freezer to find my human heart transplant biopsy samples.  Luckily, they were near the front and emblazoned boldly with DayGlo orange tape.  I measured the samples, chopped up some rat thigh muscle as an approximation (apparently, the two types of muscle have a similar density), and set aside my pinprick sized chunks of rat for testing tomorrow.  Basically, I need to check that the samples are big enough to use for the techniques I will use.  Clearly, once they've gone to the trouble of putting a new heart in someone, they don't want to cut out a big chunk, but some of the samples are worryingly small.  But we shall see!  Hope springs eternal in the research lab.  And reality check: I held bits of 11 people's hearts today.  In my hand.  That's pretty amazing.

The day ended with another adventure: Naaman and I went to a movie screening of Love and Other Drugs with other English speakers at the Inusual Project.

  Note the movie credits on the left side of the photo (this was after the lights were turned back on)

We found it through a site called MeetUp, and while we've agreed that it's our last movie screening, I found a running group through it that I'm going to try on Thursday.  I'm not sure if only the 40+ crowd in this city is lonely, but they seem to be the only people that Naaman and I attract.  Or maybe we actual are being grandmas and are only drawn to activities intended for the middle-aged.  The one real downside was the 50-year old man next to me, who ten minutes into the movie decided to strike up a conversation because "I looked like I was alone, and he thought he should say hi."  Buddy, I'm watching two hot people fall in love.  Kind of busy.  Regardless, it brought me to another new part of town, I got to watch a movie and relax, and there was salty, buttery popcorn overflowing from giant bowls.

Spotted: a mini foodie fest.  I celebrated the end of my wonderful work day with a loaf of fresh bread (now departed) and one of my pots of jam.

I decided on the pear one, and had a wonderful time slathering it onto crusty, torn-apart pieces of the freshly baked, still-warm bread.  A little bit of heaven, and I didn't even have to share.

Pursestrings: The Quest to Personally Revive the Spanish Economy

I'm pretty sure that I have spent more money in the last two days on museums than I have on food during my entire trip.  You might say this is an exaggeration, and you would probably be right, but it is expensive to join the Gaudi fan club.  Here, the number of museums that I've seen is directly related to the weight of my purse, since I watch the 50 euro bills that the ATM spits out dissolve into endless quantities of small-value coins.

To backtrack a bit, this post actually starts with last night.  Naaman and I decided to hit up the beach club scene, since we've both become grandmas and usually curl up with movies before bed instead of being social.  Hence, at 11 pm we changed out of our pajamas, met up at the Passeig de Gracia metro stop, and yawned the whole way down to the beach.  Off to a great start.  On the walk form the metro to the clubs, we picked up the various little tickets for the clubs, which are handed out by random employees in the 300 meters before you actually get there.  These were for free entrance (instead of paying 15 euros), so we hoarded them in our pockets.  We got to the door of Opium, which is one of the most famous clubs in Barcelona, and presented our itty bitty tickets.  The two guards looked at us incredulously and asked for identification.  We realized that they didn't even think we were 18.  Humiliation.  We soon realized whey they gave us such strange; everyone downstairs was in the 30-40 range, living it up.  The dance floor was empty (hey, it was still "early", only midnight) and everyone was seated at little tables of sprawled on these couch things in one big side room that opened onto the beach.  After passing a bouncer who exclaimed, "Ninas!" (little girls), we took the most available-looking seats, which were on the giant couch thing, and proceeded to have a loooooong chat.

It was a nice chance to relax and hang out, while avoiding the 12 euro drinks (Pro tip: absolutely never make eye contact with a waiter).  Around 1 AM, we scouted around for an open gelato place, failed, and went home.  Regardless, it was a nice night, and a beautiful one.

After seriously sleeping in this morning, I roused myself to do battle with more tourist sights.  Fortified by large quantities of cereal (either the boxes are smaller here or I eat breakfast like the Hulk... I go through a box every 3 days!), I headed off to Casa Batllo.

It’s a townhouse that Gaudi made for the Batlló family, part of the surge of bourgeoisie building on Passeig de Gracia.  It’s part of the Block of Discord (known for all of the competing styles used by famous architects on these grand townhouses) and completely steals the show.  Curves, fascinating balconies, huge windows – but it’s the colorful broken tile mosaics that really catch your eye.  It has been compared to Monet’s water lilies, and I think it’s a fitting comparison.  The whole house seems oddly aquatic, with a fish scale pattern painted on all the walls, no right angles (take THAT Eero Saarinen… if you made Morse and Stiles as cool as this, maybe people would like them despite their lack of right angles), and blues and greens throughout the house.

At the rear end of the house, a private courtyard hosts a patterned tile floor, glass and tile mosaics on the walls, and intricately painted ceramic pots holding enormous plants.  The rear façade of the house is also striking, with wrought iron balconies (wrought metal is apparently a shout out to Gaudí’s dad.  That man was proud of his roots), more tile mosaics, and a hint at the roof.

The roof, of course, is one of the most famous parts of the house.  It has the whole mushroomy Gaudi shape thing going on.  It’s one of those we-don’t-know-what-this-is-but-we-like-it moments, where you have a gut reaction that something is cool and then leave it to the historians and your audioguide to explain the symbolism from nature that Gaudi was evoking through his medium of broken tiles and cement.

Note: Gaudi even designed the furniture and the door handles, both of which were supposed to be ergonomic perfection.

After bidding Gaudi farewell, I took a walk along the rest of the Block of Discord, soaking up the slightly more traditional styles.  The buildings were all gorgeous, although I think that’s how I feel about nearly architecture in Barcelona.  Here’re a few views of the houses and my favorite little gargoyle guy.  You’ve got to love an architect with a wry-smile sense of humor.

Casa Amatller, by Josep Puig i Cadafalch (what a name)

 Casa Lleo Morera by Lluis Domenech i Muntaner, who also designed the Catalan Concert Hall

 What I think was Fundacio Antoni Tapies, also designed by Muntaner

Since I was already walking that direction, I also did part of the Rick Steve’s walking tour down Las Ramblas.  Traditionally a market street, Las Ramblas is now the center of tourist activity in Barcelona.  The food is advertised in superlatives, the hostels are abundant, and tiny shops abound.  Here are a few highlights:

 There's a giant pet store!

 And then lots of plant stores.  One had a notable cactus display.  I didn't realize that was a thing.

 This was listed in the guide book as "your run-of-the-mill European eroticism museum." My WHAT? Note the hostel right above it.  I feel like this is what my mom's first apartment in NYC was like. (Hi, Mom!)

 A statue for Cristopher Columbus, as he was sent off here in 1492.

Finally, I met up with Naaman tonight to visit the festival in Barceloneta.  Barceloneta is the small fishing village part of the city, and is right on the water.  I didn’t get as much of a small village feel as I was expecting after reading up on the place, but it was wonderful and the coast is beautiful.  The festival turned out to be groups of people dressed in matching costumes dancing with fake axes and other props (Swiffers, pipes, light sabers, prepackaged food… you name it) with a band playing before the whole lot of them moved to the next block and another group sashayed over.

We watched a few acts, then hit up the food stalls by the water.

 

Hot churros frying.  Mmmmm

Cheese!

All sorts of baked goods.  I really need to learn Catalan.

Traditional candies as well as some more modern ones.  I was tempted by a dulce de leche and chocolate layered fudge.

Sausage is often the meat of choice here.  (See blog post on Saturday's excursion)

The most incredible jam maker alive.  I tried Strawberries in Sweet Wine, Pineapple and Coconut, Pear, Apple and Cinnamon, and several others.  I didn't get a chance to try their Onion, Sweet Potato, or other more savory ones.  Next time!  I am currently supplied with jam for eternity.

Spotted: Water fountains.  These decorative fountains around the city provide a place to fill your water bottle.  Each one is unique and most are beautiful (the ones in Madrid, by contrast, are huge slabs of concrete with spouts).

The gold-and-black one in Las Ramblas (above) even has a legend: if you take a sip of its water, you’ll return to Barcelona someday.  Drink up!