Miss Devylish: Notes from Barcelona: Chapter 5

Thursday afternoon, Oct. 1st

I got up today at a reasonable hour, 10:30, made coffee for the last time in the apartment, chatted only briefly with Emma and Keano all the while noticing how sore my calves were. I showered and packed then walked my bags over to the Hostel Baires across the street. The room is solely mine and has a little balcony off Carrer Gignas, which I walk down every day. It's clean with a sink and a little balcony. The bathroom and shower, both different little rooms are down the hall.

I get ready and make my way out determined to find the Picasso Museum today. I scoured the map yesterday and it doesn't look far or hard. I walk in that direction and take in parts of El Born and the Barri Gòthic I haven't yet seen. I'm still shy with my camera and I don't know why. It's silly. I find my way down a main street, see some government building a distance away and then recognize Carrer Comerç and walk down that til I hit Carrer Principessa and have to ask where the museum is. He doesn't speak English so I keep going and find the Museu de la Xocolata, buy a gift for one of my girlfriends while there and then ask directions thinking one tourist spot has to know where the other is. They do, I head out and it's gorgeous and stunning and old and the sad part is, they don't allow pictures, not even without flash, so I spend a small fortune in the gift shop because hi - Picasso - and only get pictures of the plaques outside to mark I was there.

Afterwards, I buy a few scarves for girlfriends just down from the museum from a nice man who's selling them. After I pay for them he gives me advice on how to protect my bag, where to eat near Plaça de Catalunya and asks me where I'm from. We chat and then I'm off for food. I seriously spent so long in the gift shop buying souveniers that the siesta hours came and went so businesses are opening up again. I find a cute little clothing boutique and fall for a little bright green and grey hoodie. It's stupid as far as the price, but I can't give it up and tho the woman and I go back and forth in foreign-to-the-other gibberish because she doesn't speak any English, we still figure it out. I pay for it and a couple of darling little handmade coin purses shaped like animal faces for my nieces, Emo and Lulu back home. I also found some Spanish fans that might be touristy, but I think they'll love them and I've seen a lot of Spanish women using them especially in the metro stations where it's so unreasonably hot it feels like Middle Earth.

I find a little café, Buenas Migas, where I sit myself down for a bit and write and watch. I realize I'm near the Catedral where Giannis took me to the other day and I watch huge talking tours come and go speaking all kinds of languages - French, German, English/American. It's only Thursday and you can tell the crowds are already picking up. Sigh - my hip and my writing are suffering at the moment so I'm going to pop some pain pills, then head over to the church for some pictures and home after to freshen up.

These are outside the Catedral - churches hold something for me but this.. wow.. this was some of the most stunning architecture and you can feel the history emanate from the walls.

Inside, it's intricate and ornate and every nook and cranny deserves to be logged by a camera, but you just can't get it all and it certainly doesn't do it justice, the beauty of it all..

I love this Mary - she has this very contented smile.. It was comforting.

My favorite crucifix of the entire trip.. I love that Jesus is flanked at every side by angels..

Outside, but adjacently connected to the church are the cloisters from the 14th century. There are no words but phenomenally gorgeous..

The gueese always number 13. I found conflicting information saying they are kept there and also they choose to be there. I'd like to believe they choose to be there by a lovely and tragic religious history. They say they're 13 because each goose represents one year of the life of the martyr Saint Eulalia who was a young girl tortured to death in the 4th century for her religious beliefs by the Romans. She's the patron saint of Barcelona.