You Can't Keep a (Persistent) Man Down

You think you know a city and then – BAM – it hits you over the head with surprises.  On my normal Barceloneta sunrise run today, everything was just fine and dandy and beautiful… until the last hundred meters before I turned away from the coast and back towards the city center.  A man on a bike slowed down beside me and slowly pedaled next to me while trying to start a conversation.  I looked straight ahead and gave one word answers.  And then… I realized that if was Nico.  As in, Nico from The Club Debacle.  I couldn’t believe it.  In fact, I was so surprised that I ran straight into another runner and practically knocked us both over in the collision.  And so, since there was no way for me to get away, we continued like this for about a mile.    During that time, my monosyllabic responses continued, but he told me all about his life, including that he’s a photography teacher.  And then at the end, he said “See you tomorrow.”  Not that there is now any chance that I will be running there tomorrow.

My day continued with the last of the human heart sample extractions and a very poorly-run lecture on “New Options for Improved Myocardial Protection during Heart Surgery” by Dr. David Chambers of St. Thomas Hospital, London.

I had SO many questions about his research afterward, but the hierarchy of the department would have been terribly disrupted if the petulant, precocious American intern challenged their guest (they’re very protective of guests from outside of Spain, because it’s considered a rare treat).

And then, after work, the adventures continued with a bit of anarchy.  George Orwell, the English novelist and journalist (whose REAL name is Eric Arthur Blair), is well known for novels such as 1984 and Animal Farm, but also for his book Homage to Catalonia.

Note the fist, just as Picasso used in Guernica, as a sign of Spanish protest

Written in 1938, the book chronicles his experiences during the Spanish Civil War, in which he participated as an Republican activist.  To thank him for lending his voice to protect their Catalonian nationalism and defending them during the war, there is now a plaza named after Orwell.

 The plaza was named after Orwell in 1996 and houses a controversial statue by Leandre Cristofol.  The statue depicts a tuberculosis cell, since TB killed Orwell in 1950.

 The ironic thing about this square is that though Orwell, who's novel 1984 satirizes an overseen, over-regulated society, his square includes a 24-hour surveillance camera installed near the statue.  However, the government had good reason: this square is also known as "Placa Tripi" (Plaza Trippy) for all the drug use that it was known for in the past, before its current reincarnation as a tourist hotspot.  But the Orwell saga doesn't stop with the Placa.  I found THIS fascinating article and decided to delve into the neighborhood's Civil War past.  This led me back to Las Ramblas, to the Hotel Rivoli Ramblas (Las Ramblas, 128), which was an Anarchist headquarters.  The plaque next to the now-hotel commemorates the leader who was arrested from the building and later killed when the Republican in-fighting commenced.

 Next door, Restaurant Moka bears a few battle wounds.  See the slightly darker marks on the left-hand wall? Those are apparently from heavy gunfire during the war.

On a more peaceful note, I then ventured back into the Barri Gotic to check out the antique shops on my favorite street, Banys Nous (of churros and chocolate fame).  While I went into a few of the recommended shops, like Gemma Povo (known for its wrought iron)

 none of them impressed me very much.  I started to wander shops of my own and came across L'Arca de l'Avia, a vintage clothing store.

 And by vintage, I mean a collection of beautiful old kimonos, dresses from all decades, fascinators, and yards of necklaces and bracelets.

Trying on a shrug.

 And then, I found out that this shop provided many of the costumes for the movie The Titanic.  Yep, all of the gowns that Rose wore on the ship?  Provided courtesy of L'Arca de l'Avia.

Just when I thought the street couldn't get any cooler, I spotted another framed news article in the store next door, Oliver.

Hidden in the back of the shop, which looks small from the outside but is in fact vast and cavernous, are mysterious and beautiful stone arches.

 These arches are actually all that remains of a 12^th century Jewish bathhouse.  The streets surrounding Banys Nous, called El Call, was the city’s Jewish district back when Jewish merchants lived happily amongst the other Spaniards.  At one point, Barcelona was a prominent Jewish center in Spain.  In 1263, King James I of Aragon defended Judaism against a Christian attack by Pablo Christiani.  When the religious Christians got strict in 1492 (a big year for Barcelona), Jewish culture was strangled out of Barcelona.  Yet the ruins of the Jewish baths are just one reminder of Jewish culture.  Plaques recall the Jewish legacy of the neighborhood.  A Jewish cultural center on a nearby street houses an ancient synagogue.  And Montjuic, or literally Mountain of the Jews, watches over the city.

To end the night properly, I met up with Naaman to FINALLY sample the Hungarian cylinder cookies at Ximenetas.  We've been greedily gorfing down the samples every time we pass, so it was time to literally pay our respects to this temple of sugar and dough.

We sat on the steps by one side of the giant Barcelona Cathedral and peeled off circles of sugary dough rolled in almonds or cinnamon.  Warm sugary goodness and a hint of a chilly night breeze.

Spotted: Drop-crotch pants, an extreme version of harem pants that are taking Barcelona by storm.

They come in all fabrics, colors, and crotch heights (except for those  - god forbid - with crotches above the knee) and are the comfortable-looking response of women's clothing designers to the sagging pants trend that rap culture brought to men's fashion about a decade ago.