Saturday, October 12
It's National Day of Spain today. What were the odds that i would happen to be here during a major national holiday??
I had no idea. I woke up and headed to the bar for breakfast and to buy film fest tickets, and when i went back to my room, there was the strangest noise coming from outside. It sounded like really disjointed live music, happening far away. It took me a few minutes to realize there was a parade happening on the street below, and i was hearing the sounds of a couple different marching bands blending less than seamlessly.
Backing up a second, though. I hadn't gone to bed until 3:30 last night, so i was not having an easy time waking up. About 9:30, i think, was when i finally let my eyes stay open, although i laid there and stared at my phone for a while.
I went to brush my teeth, and as i was putting the toothbrush away, through some bizarre hiccup of physics that i couldn't fully comprehend, it flew out of its plastic container and landed bristles-first in the bottom of the trash can, punching straight through all the used paper towels and other hygienic detritus.
Uh. Clearly i'm not going to be using that again, which kind of sucks, but this was the plan anyway. It's only two more days, i can go that long without brushing my teeth. My teen years were far worse than that anyway. I'm at the point with my travel toothpaste that i'm basically squeezing blood from a stone anyhow, so they may as well be together in the landfill.
I wasn't particularly enthused by anything on the festival schedule today. The first few things i thought i might like ended up being sold out. It is Saturday, after all, and as i was about to find out, a national holiday. So everyone was looking to get to the theaters.
I picked out three films that i thought looked okay. I might be surprised by them; most of the films i've seen so far seem not to be quite what their descriptions suggest, honestly. All three were at the Casino, which is super convenient, and then there was a fourth possibility at Brigadoon that i might try to slip into. Brigadoon films are all free, but seats are first-come-first-served, so it could be a crapshoot.
All of the screenings i was looking at had very few seats remaining while i was making decisions. Got the first one into my cart, picking a seat all the way in the back row and off to the right. Clicked to add my second movie and...
Sold out.
In the time it took me to make a decision and go back to add it to my cart, maybe five to ten minutes, the last three seats in this theater had disappeared.
...
Ugh, fuck all of this.
I let it go, and accepted that i'd be adventuring in Barcelona today instead. But, since i was here, i might as well look at showtimes for tomorrow. It will be Sunday, and the last day of the festival, so i wasn't expecting to find much. It just seemed like i should do this as soon as possible.
Oh, that's interesting. What is "Marató Matinée?" They have it for both the Casino Prado and the Auditori Meliá. There's also a non-matinée "Marató" available for each theater.
Help me, Google Translate.
Marató is Marathon. The Matinée one is 240 minutes, four hours. The regular is 360, six hours. Given that most of these movies clock in around 90 minutes...that's a lot of movies. The prices on these are pretty cheap.
I'd only seen one other showing i was kind of interested in.
Maybe...let's roll these dice?
The available seats were much better for the Prado than the Auditori, as might be expected. Throughout the festival, the Auditori Meliá has hosted the highest profile, most popular movies. It also has the most comfortable seats, and the best seating arrangement. Not surprising, since i think it's the only venue that's actually set up specifically to be a movie theater; everything else seems to have, to varying degrees, a bunch of temporary amenities hastily assembled to accommodate screenings.
Many of the movies which have played in the Auditori have also played elsewhere, though, so it's not a guarantee that the Auditori will have the better movies, or that previously-screened Auditori movies wouldn't be mixed in at the Prado. This just might be a chance to see something like Please Don't Feed The Children, or V/H/S/Beyond, which was one of the sold-out ones i was interested in today and only played otherwise on Sunday the 6th, a day i had skipped (not that i'm a huge fan of the V/H/S franchise, i saw the first one and it was okay, but a friend of mine is in it and he keeps making posts about it on Facebook and Instagram). Hell, i might see The Substance! Or Handsome Guys!
Or i might end up having to sit through Estela or Pepe again.
Orrrrr i might end up bawling my eyes out at The Umbrella Fairy again.
It is dice and i am rolling them! Who knows what will happen! But i'm kind of excited.
So now i just need to make sure i'm up early enough to get to Sitges by 10 tomorrow morning, the marathon starts at 10:30. There's a break from 2:30-3:30, so hopefully i can get some lunch and/or mail some postcards, and get right back to the theater for the next marathon. It should all be over by 9:30pm, which still gives me almost an hour to get back to the train station before the last regular train. I might even catch an earlier one.
And then i will bid adieu to this festival, for this year.
It's been a blast. I really hope i can come back here again someday.
I think i'm going to make a concerted effort to get to Sundance next year. Amanda and i had made plans that we were definitely going to go in 2023, and then...well, then that year was what it was.
I also figured, it would be nice if i could at least see one of Gaudí's buildings while i'm here. There's the one literally halfway down the block from here, maybe i can get tickets to see that on Monday morning?
The tour says it takes about an hour and fifteen minutes, and they start at 9am. That's basically perfect, if i go first thing, i can get through it before i even need to check out of the hostel, so i don't need to worry about luggage storage!
I double checked my flight. It leaves at 3:45pm, so i won't really have time to do a lot in Barcelona. It's international, so i should be to the airport three hours early, looks like the train takes half an hour...so i need to leave Passeig de Gracia around noon?
Hell. What am i gonna do with the extra hour? I'll probably just head straight to the airport after checkout. At least i'll get this last little adventure in before i go.
For some reason, the 9:15 entry was a bit cheaper than the 9:00, so i just went for that. Clicked to buy, and...transaction failed.
"Cannot verify identity of cardholder."
TF does that mean?
This is the same credit card processing web site i've been using for the film festival this whole time. I literally just bought tickets through this site fifteen minutes ago, with this same credit card.
I tried my debit card. "Transaction declined by bank. No reason given."
...
I tried a few more times, with both cards. No luck.
Ughhh. Maybe i'll just go in there and try to buy a ticket at the desk? No, it's always overrun with people. That would be difficult. Plus it will be much more expensive, there's a huge discount for buying online.
I'll try again later, i guess.
Alright, what do i want to do in Barcelona today?
I'd sat here so long staring at film fest tickets that i had forgotten to go order breakfast. They'd cleaned up the buffet. It was too late. So food was gonna be a priority.
Huan-Hua had recommended that i track down something called "huevos estrellados," so maybe i'd go look for that.
I looked through Dawn's list of recommendations, since i hadn't hit many (or any?) of those yet. She'd listed a cool graveyard and the 1992 Olympic Village as highlights, those should both be doable. I made a map on my laptop and sent it to my phone.
Back to the room to drop off my laptop, and this is where we came in. The strange noise outside which turned out to be a parade.
I gathered my cameras and dashed downstairs quickly, afraid i'd miss it.
There were many dancers right outside the hostel when i got there. I found my way through the crowd and got close enough to grab some good shots. Then i headed to the right, trying to get ahead of them, and see the parts i'd already missed. I chased the parade for 4 or 5 blocks, getting a bunch of footage of all of these dancers in their extravagant Spanish outfits. So colorful, so shiny. Honestly such athleticism in the dance. It was kind of incredible.
Eventually, i let the parade pass me by. The road was still closed off, so a lot of people were just walking through the streets to get where they needed to be. I joined them.
Then, about a block toward the hostel, i realized that there was more parade back there. I returned to the sidewalk as i approached, and started filming again. It was another entire group of the same type of thing, the brightly-colored, sequined outfits for mostly men and a few women, looking like theatrical interpretations of battle armor, making their wild, exaggerated dance moves. Then several rows of women in more traditionally feminine outfits, short skirts, high heels, just as many sequins, with much more reserved and dainty dance moves that still looked like enough physical exertion to kill me. Then the marching band.
I saw a third set of this same configuration as i reached the hostel. No idea how many had already gone by before i could even get outside, but it didn't seem like it was going to end anytime soon. Infinite parade.
Outside the hostel, a line of cars had formed on the cross street, waiting forever for a break in the parade. I heard one of these dumb assholes honk. Not sure if it was at the parade, or at the cars ahead of them, but like. Dude. I don't know what you think is going to happen here. You're just gonna have to wait.
I needed to run back to the hostel because i'd realized my watch was down below 20% battery. For the day i had in mind, there's no way that would last. I grabbed the adapter from my locker, stopped into the bathroom quick, and was off.
In the five or so minutes i was inside the hostel, one car had managed to slip through that intersection.
I used the subway station to cross the road, dipping below the parade, rather than looking for a break, or barreling through it, as i'd seen some people do. I hadn't been sure which passage to use to do this, but i had a guess. I made that turn, went through a new tunnel, and popped out into a familiar area. I'm getting to know the Passeig de Gràcia station pretty well! Which is great, because i'll be there three more times in my entire life and then probably never again. Possibly only two more times, if i miss the train back to Barcelona tomorrow night for some reason.
Casa Pagès was one of the first places to come up on a Maps search for "huevos estrellados," stating that it was a "menu highlight." It wasn't terribly far away, and was decently rated. I found it well off the beaten path, tucked into a corner on a street that was more of an alleyway. I scanned through the menu posted on the wall outside, in both Spanish and English, and couldn't find "huevos estrellados" anywhere. I know that "huevos" is "eggs," so i went to the English side and looked for that. I found three egg options under the tapas section, but looking back at the Spanish part, they were called something different.
I punched "huevos estrellados" into Google Translate. It literally just means "fried eggs."
One of the three tapas options included a fried egg. So i decided to just order that, and hope it was what i was after. I also decided to get the bravas, since i haven't had any of those since i've been in Spain.
...and an Aperol Spritz.
The drink came in a fancy glass that had "Aperol Spritz" engraved on it in a fancy font. The tapas were served separately again. I guess this is a thing? Not every tapas place has done that, but as it's happened twice, i have to assume that it's either customary to eat them one at a time, or else there's a hierarchy of tapas where some are designated more of an appetizer and others are a main. Technically, "tapas" are all supposed to be snacks; they become a meal when you combine multiples.
I don't know, i'm probably talking out of my ass here.
The bravas came first, a lovely mound of potatoes smothered in a creamy, spicy sauce.
Then the other one, which i was assuming was the huevos estrellados. I really wish i'd taken a picture of the menu, so i could transcribe exactly what this was actually called; Google Maps only has pics of the English side of the menu. The two fried eggs were served on a bed of french fries, with fried onions, and foie gras.
I know i'd heard of foie gras before, usually associated with rich people food, but i didn't actually know what it was. After i'd ordered, i looked it up. It's duck liver. Google's helpful additional questions menu, below the one explaining what it was, had an option for "Why is foie gras controversial?"
Oh god. I'm about to learn some shit that's gonna make this meal not sit well with me, aren't i?
Yeah, foie gras is kind of unethical. I don't know that it's worse than the abuse done to factory-farmed birds anyway, but the methods of getting the liver to its optimum state for cooking are...bad.
Ugh fuck. Stop eating meat, Trevor. Every time you learn a new fact it makes you feel worse. I know you want to experience culture, but, is it worth it?
Okay, from there i was working my way toward the Olympic Village. This seems to be a whole neighborhood now. When i was looking it up, many of the articles provided were about how the infrastructure built for the Olympics actually helped this part of Barcelona out tremendously, permanently improving transportation, adding lots of housing options, and many recreational sites which benefit the citizens.
From some of the pictures, i thought some of the Olympic facilities would still be on display. One article had specifically pointed out "Olympic Village Park," but i couldn't find a park with that name anywhere in Barcelona. I picked the largest park near the neighborhood, plugged it into my GPS, and hoped it would be the right one.
This was Parc de la Ciutadella, which had a train station named "Ciutadelia Vila Olímpica" in one corner, so i assumed it would be part of the Olympic Village.
To get there, i would be walking up to and under the Arc de Triomf.
Cool, i hadn't been there during the day, and since all those bikes were everywhere the night i'd visited, i hadn't had a chance to explore the promenade beyond.
It's nice! It's a neat area with a lot of foot traffic and many buskers. Right under the Arc was a woman playing metal riffs on a 6-string bass. 50 feet from her was a woman with a heavy chorus effect on her guitar, playing a cover of Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game." Man, remember when i saw Chris Isaak in Copenhagen, like two months ago, but didn't stick around long enough to hear Wicked Game? I finally heard somebody play it!
These two should start a band together, i thought. Given what their solo careers ended up sounding like, it wouldn't be that much more incongruous than Louise Post and Nina Gordon in Veruca Salt.
There was another guitarist, but he was playing some modern pop stuff that i recognized but couldn't place. I hope i haven't reached the age where i instinctively look down on that sort of thing, but i really was not into his style.
And there was a guy making huge bubbles with ropes suspended between two staves. He had dozens of children gathered underfoot, chasing the bubbles and popping them with great joy.
I came to the end of the promenade, and crossed the street right into Parc de la Ciutadella. I had not realized it would be so close to the Arc, which i could still see from here! I'm not nearly as far from the hostel as i thought i would be, that's nice!
The park is more or less a continuation of the promenade, with additional walking paths running parallel, and gardens between them with decorative flowering bushes. There are additional points of interest off to the sides of it, including a few greenhouses, the Castle of the Three Dragons, a couple museums, many monuments, and the whole-ass Zoo de Barcelona. Looking at the map now, i don't think i maximized my time in this park. I had seen the scale of it on the map before i'd headed there, but while i was actually in the park, i just kept thinking about my next destination beyond it. Hell, the historic Parlament de Catalunya building is contained within this park; why didn't i see that? I didn't feel it at the time, but now, eight hours later, think i dropped the ball pretty badly here.
Wait, what the hell is the Castle of the Three Dragons? I can see the castle, yes, and it looks like there's a water feature here, perhaps to represent a moat although it is currently bone dry, and there's three dragon-looking figures on the edge of it. All i can get out of Google Maps is "Temporarily Closed." Huh.
For some reason, i *thought* i was moving toward a statue called Kiss of Death, which i *thought* was in a cemetery just beyond this park, but neither of those statements was true, and i didn't know it at the time.
I exited the park, turned right so that i could get around the zoo and head left, and found myself on a road with very little traffic, tons of incredible graffiti art, and views of some really interesting buildings in the near distance. This was Passeig de Circumvaŀlació.
I was shooting footage of the murals and weird buildings, and took note that my battery was about halfway depleted. Then suddenly i realized, i didn't have any more batteries on me. I'd taken them all out of my pockets for the film fest, since they just hang in a cargo pocket and bang against my knee all day and i wouldn't be needing them, and forgotten to reload them now that i had the camera again. This is it. When this battery is gone, i can't shoot anymore. Also, my phone is down to about 25 minutes of video storage. I'd meant to dump that last night, too, and had forgotten. I was going to need to be more conservative than usual on my shots. Maybe it would be possible to swing by the hostel before i head south, to the other cemetery Dawn mentioned?
My GPS took me over to the Port Olímpic de Barcelona, the Olympic Port, which is also considered a tourist destination within the Olympic Village in its own right. It was actually directing me to El Peix d'Or Frank Gehry, a gigantic fish sculpture on top of a casino, which changes colors with the rising and setting of the sun.
I cannot remember why i was going there. I remembered the name, i remembered typing it into Maps on purpose, but for the life of me i could not remember why. Yet here i was.
Uh. Okay, where's the Kiss of Death, El Petó de la Mort, then?
It was another mile.
Or, i should say, the cemetery gates were another mile, because that's where the coordinates from Atlas Obscura took me. Not to the statue itself, just to the entrance.
So i would need to figure out my own way there, then?
Oh, it's actually a labeled point of interest on Google Maps. That's always helpful.
Except that selecting it directly, while i was standing at the cemetery gates, made Google give me directions leading around the outside of the cemetery, stopping at a wall, and then a little arc to the statue, as if to indicate that i needed to pole vault a fuckin' 12-foot concrete barrier.
Come on, man. It's bad enough the audio keeps telling me to turn left when the map clearly shows i need to go forward or right. I finally realized why this is always happening; it's because Maps has no idea which direction i'm actually facing half of the time. It'll show my little arrow pointing to the left and evidently sidestepping down the street at an ADHD pace, never figuring out that this is super unlikely.
Oh, Google Maps, my beloathed frenemy. I couldn't do this trip without you. But also i cannot trust you, ever, and you're kind of stupid. You're like Beni from The Mummy. The good one, with Brendan Frasier and Rachel Weisz.
This cemetery was like nothing i had ever seen.
I walked in to find myself walking through rows upon rows of outdoor mausoleums, sized for full coffins. The graves were stacked seven coffins high, like an enormous cadaver filing cabinet. Having the bodies arranged this way actually made me feel much more self-conscious about being here. Whereas i don't have a problem doing tourist shit in a cemetery like, say, Père-Lachaise in Paris, because it's as much an art gallery as it is a burial ground, this just inexplicably felt more invasive. Like having all of these bodies above-ground and surrounding me somehow meant they could see me, they were watching me, knowing i was a tourist with no legitimate business here. I felt judged.
The living humans i encountered on my walk through the cemetery gave me the same feeling, all staring at me, with my fancy-looking camera around my neck, as if to say, "Why are you here, American?" No one actually said anything, it was just a feeling of unease.
The mausoleum walls formed several enclosed pods, or neighborhoods, of graves. Still traveling in a straight line from the entrance, i entered the third and final section. This one was much more what i expected from a cemetery of this stature. Many individual tombs with monuments over them, all detailed sculptures, many hundreds of years old. Now i just needed to find the one i was looking for.
And i just. could. not.
Where are you, Kiss of Death?
I am in a cemetery looking for the Kiss of Death.
Kiss of DeeEEAAAaattthhh???
I was right where the Google Maps coordinates said i should be, but it simply was not there. I pulled up the Atlas, to see if i could use the photos in the entry to identify background monuments and triangulate a position. Only the first photo in the article had another monument in frame; it was a winged woman, presumably an angel, atop a dome. It looked like it should tower over the Kiss of Death.
I walked around this section for what must have been 15 minutes, feeling like i was wasting time. On my walk over to the cemetery, i had been deep in thought about the postcard situation; one of the ones i meant to send today, i would really like for the recipient to get before Halloween. I don't know if that's even possible at this point, but i did feel like i needed too send it *NOW* if there was any chance. I was kicking myself for getting swept up in the parade instead of taking care of that as soon as i left the hostel. I hoped i could still do it after i left here, on the way back home. It was after five, so it felt unlikely that a post office would be open, but hell, i don't know what hours the postal service keeps in Spain.
I saw it!
The angel standing on the dome!
IT'S ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL.
MOTHER
PUS
BUCKET
GOOGLE MAPS WAS RIGHT
I DID NEED TO GO OUTSIDE OF THE CEMETERY TO GET THERE
WHHHYYYYYY
I started walking back toward the entrance. I re-entered File Cabinet Land, through an arch that was on the left, with the monuments behind me. I was hewing toward the left-hand side of the cemetery, the wall i'd seen the angel over.
Suddenly, an opening appeared. Interesting, could this be a shortcut?
I went through it, and found another section of stacked mausoleums.
Oh, no, this isn't a three-section cemetery; it's nine sections.
They only connect through the center section. There wasn't an opening between the center-back, where i was, and the other back-end sides.
So i headed to the back side of this section, and found the portal to that last section. It was another with monuments on individual burial plots, but only in the center. The outside walls of this one were additional mausoleums.
I walked around a tree and up a few stairs, and there it was. The angel overlooking everything else. I followed her beacon, and finally found the burial site i'd been looking for.
El Petó de la Mort is a finely-detailed statue built atop the grave of textile manufacturer Josep Llaudet Soler. Carved in 1930, it depicts death as a winged skeleton, in the act of taking the life of a dehydrated young man through a tender kiss on the forehead. It includes an inscription by Catalan poet Jacinto Verdaguer which translates to, “His young heart is thus extinguished. The blood in his veins grows cold. And all strength has gone. Faith has been extolled by his fall into the arms of death. Amen.” The statue is signed by artist Jaume Barba, but some believe it was actually designed by Joan Fontbernat.
Maps was wrong. I did need to enter the cemetery. Suck it, Maps.
Alright, i gotta get out of here. I'd wanted to get back to the hostel early so that i could go through my backpack and start eliminating items. That pack needs to get back down to its original 10 kilos for the flight, after all, and i'd rather not be scrambling to deal with this the morning i'm leaving. It was already nearly 6pm. There was no way i would make it to the other cemetery today. This one closes at 6, the other one probably does also, and even if it didn't that's gonna be at least three more hours' commitment.
I ended up walking back. It would have been a 35 minute bus ride, but i never figured out bus passes in Spain. Maps quoted me a 57 minute walk. That's only 22 extra minutes. I can take the time to pass through and enjoy more of Barcelona. Plus, this way, i can stop for a snack.
I realized, as i walked, that it's a public holiday. The post offices aren't open anyway. It wouldn't have mattered if i'd gone to take care of that first thing in the morning, the result would be the same. I should've taken care of this days ago.
My route took me back through the promenade behind the Arc de Triomf. Many of the buskers had packed up and gone for the day, but the bubble guy was still there. The woman with the guitar was still there, she was playing a Coldplay song now. The metal bassist was gone. In her place, a man was banging out a unique rhythm on an improvised drum set. I thought to myself, hey, i found the last member of this band! Their three styles would be absolutely incompatible, but if they could make it fit together, that would be my favorite kind of band. I should be a producer, why does no one recognize my brilliance{?}
As i went to get a quick video clip of some of the buskers, the battery in the R6m2 gave out. Just my phone for the rest of this walk, then.
The road in front of the hostel was still closed off. I could hear loud music coming from one end. It sounded live, i thought i was hearing stage banter and tuning between songs. I went inside to grab another battery before going to investigate.
My room was overrun by late teen/early twentysomething women talking about boys. I stepped carefully around the ones sitting criss-cross apple-sauce on the floor to reach my bunk, dropped off things i didn't need, swapped my battery, and got out of there.
I followed the sound for several blocks before i found the source. It was not live. There was a box truck, the back entirely packed with enormous speakers, blasting music while creeping down the street at one mile per hour. In its wake, another group of brightly-colored dancers. I watched for a few minutes, then headed back. I'd really been hoping for live music.
Back to the room. There were somehow more of these strange women around the room than when i'd left. At least i think there were. It sounded like they might be catfishing a guy on Tinder? One of them was very concerned about the girl in some dude's profile picture on social media. Should she ask if that's his sister? Or if it's his ex? One of the other women was like, "Just ask him if he has a girlfriend," and another was like "He's gonna know that's why you're asking about a sister anyway." I felt like an interloper, but i had a mission to complete, so i was just gonna have to do it.
I do not miss the drama of youth.
Although, tangent, all those years that i said "dating as an adult sounds like a nightmare, i'm glad i don't have to do that," i was CORRECT.
My locker's a mess, as you might expect after almost a week in the same hostel. I pulled everything out, emptied my backpack, and started separating it into things that i absolutely needed to bring back, things i'd keep if i had space, things to donate, things i'll fully expend in the next two days, and things i can trash now.
It felt like there was actually a lot less left in my backpack than i expected. I feel like i'll probably be okay for the flight. Getting the clothes out of there helped a lot. I located a place ten minutes' walk from the hostel where i can donate them.
Now for the other items. Some of the hostels i've been to have had "free stuff" bins where people can drop off the things they don't need anymore that other travelers might find useful. I hadn't seen that here, so i gathered up my things and headed over to the bar. I was looking to get a drink anyway.
I asked the bartender about it. She said yeah, there's a couple places we can put things where people might take them. I said, "okay, great, because i have, like, this power strip here..." I pulled it out of my vest pocket.
"Oh!! Actually i can use that here in the bar. There's only two outlets over there..." She indicated the end of one of the bars attached to the wall that looks out the window, where people can sit and have a view. At the end was a lamp. "...and i've always needed to plug more things in over there."
"Nice, it's yours," i said, handing it to her. I pulled out the next item, she immediately had a use for it, and the next, and the next. She ended up taking everything i needed to get rid of.
Tomorrow, i'll leave what's left of my q-tips in the bathroom, surely someone will use those there. I'll also go leave my laundry detergent in the laundry room. The rest of my toiletries are basically at their end anyway, so if i get one more shower in, we're good.
I sat down with my rum & Coke, ordered a pizza, and started on my log. I worked on it until the bar closed at 11. I could've sat in my corner in the hallway ("my office," as one of my roommates put it last night) and finished it up, but nah. I'd rather get some sleep, to make sure i'm up in time to make it to the matinée marathon.
One dude was already asleep in the room, snoring wetly. Every couple minutes, he would stop snoring, exclaim something in quick, panicked Spanish, and then resume snoring. What vivid dreams you must be having, sir.
I'm gonna go ahead and have some of my own.
No comments:
Post a Comment