7:56 AM
Due to my and my friend Charlene’s needs to be early for all forms of transportation, I am currently sitting at Barcelona Sants Estació with over thirty minutes until I can even enter the train platform (then another half hour until the train actually leaves) at a ridiculously early hour of the morning. No wifi, so I decided I would start work on what is sure to be a long blog subject: Barcelona.
I decided to go to Barcelona with a couple things in mind: One, the beach. Two, the desire to see my friend Charlene from the SIHS program who was going to be there. And Three, the need to be able to say that I had visited all of the major cities in Spain while over here. I got the last two (and saw the first), but I also got a lot more than I bargained for.
The two words that come to mind when I think about Barcelona are: money and pickpocketing –
Shoot, spell check just told me that the second is actually two words. Okay, three words: money and pick pocketing. ☺
First, money. Everything about Barcelona is extremely expensive. Charlene and I paid €26/night each to stay in a hostel room with six other girls, while in Madrid you can get a single room for less. The city is filled with beautiful hotels, expensive shopping, and high-class restaurants. It’s almost impossible to eat a meal for less than €20, even a menú de día (most places in Spain the highest price for the daily meal is €10 or €11). To give another, perhaps more important point of reference on price in Barcelona, ice cream is nearly double the price there as in any other part of Spain! I discovered this with horror, because ice cream is one of the cheap pleasures of traveling for me... The only area in which Charlene and I were able to find ice cream for under €2 (and many places were as high as €3) was in a random residential area far from the center of town, and as soon as we got to our destination (a Gaudi park a little ways past), the prices went right back up. It turned out to be a good thing that I ate something bad in León shortly before leaving and had almost no appetite the entire weekend! Barcelona is a rich person’s city: filled with tourists and tourist money, and without much resemblance to the rest of Spain.
And with the abundance of money and tourists floating around come the people who want the first and prey on the second: pick pocketers. Before coming to Spain, I had to attend a couple “international safety” meetings at Harvard, in which we were given advice about how to carry our money and belongings around: always carry a purse with a zipper or clasp, have the zipper opening at your front, never carry your wallet at night, and always keep an eye on your surroundings. During the SIHS program, those that carried backpacks were often told to wear them in their front, although we mainly just made fun of those that did. I thought that I had a good idea of how to avoid being robbed. But Barcelona is a whole different story. During my weekend there I witnessed one robbery and heard more about pick pocketers than I have in the entire rest of my time in Spain. I also managed to have my wallet taken from me while I was coming out of a subway – although they threw it back at me after I made a scene and they realized that I wasn’t carrying any money (lucky for me that I was out of money – I was about to take out more, but had decided to wait a while longer). And every single person I saw was wearing their backpacks in front and clutching any sort of purse or bag they happened to be holding tightly to their side. Traveling around Barcelona made me so incredibly paranoid. Except paranoid isn’t quite the right word, because all of the tension and distrust of those around me was completely justified. When my friend and I walked around, we buried our wallets under several layers of bags and zippers, and one of us still walked behind as a “guard.” I’ve been to several big cities – New York, Boston, Madrid, Chicago – and never have I felt as unsafe as I did in Barcelona. Barcelona made me realize just how easy it is to take something from someone without them being able to do anything about it… I honestly kind of wonder why there isn’t more pick pocketing everywhere.
Aunt Diane, if you are reading this, thank you SO MUCH for the travel padlocks you gave me. I use them in the US and love them, but they are even more useful traveling around Spain. The only way I was able to get to the train station today without being constantly on edge was because I had the security of knowing that my backpack pockets were locked and inaccessible to any robbers. I have no doubt that I have avoided a couple of potential robberies by using the locks – I swear I saw one suspicious character cross over to my car on the subway after seeing my backpack and then look disappointed upon seeing my precautions.
It’s probably not surprising to hear that along with pick pocketing, other types of crime are quite high in Barcelona as well. After my first night, in which I felt unsafe walking home as early as 11 (in a city where most clubs don’t even open until 2), my friend and I decided not to go out anymore, and were back in our hostel by 10 or so for the rest of the weekend. We weren’t alone – many of the other people we talked to (especially other American girls) got taxis every night that they went out, even if their hostel was close, and were prepared to bail in the case that the taxi driver was not reputable. I have never felt that unsafe in any other Spanish city, not even Madrid or Sevilla. Part of the difference was the lack of guys to accompany us, but that was definitely not the only reason for my apprehension at walking around Barcelona.
Barcelona wasn’t all bad, however. Our hostel introduced us to the wonders of the Travel Bar, a company that offers various tours and excursions for young travelers. I was slightly disappointed that everything was in English, but wasn’t very surprised… I barely spoke a word of Spanish the whole weekend as everyone speaks English in Barcelona. Charlene and I started off our weekend by taking a free walking tour, which turned out to be a way to lour us in to the various other, more costly, activities of the Travel Bar. We fell for it, but I think we got good deals for our money, especially for Barcelona! We went to a Spanish cooking class one night for €19, which offered tapas, paella, and unlimited sangria, then took a 3 ½ hour bike tour the next day for only €15. We then took advantage of a free dinner offered by the bar for those staying in nearby hostels... all in all, I think we spent most of our time at the Travel Bar or Travel Bar events. The other cool thing about the bar was that we were able to connect with other Americans traveling around Europe. We saw two girls from Florida and another from Oregon at pretty much every activity we went to, and it was fun to talk to some Americans other than the ones I have been with for a month and a half now!
Although we filled much of our time in Barcelona with the tours and class, we also had time to go to a bull fight, something I hadn’t thought I would see this summer. Neither Charlene nor I support bull fighting, but we rationalized our decision to spend €23 to view one in a couple ways: we wanted to see what they were like, it was a part of typical Spanish culture that we had not yet seen, and bull fighting had already been voted to be banned in Catalunya in 2012, so we weren’t supporting the institution (and also probably wouldn’t have another opportunity to see bull fighting in Barcelona ever again). The bull fight turned out to be just as horrific and gory as I had expected, and we left after only two of the six bulls were killed. For those who don’t know, I’ll give a basic description of the treatment of the bulls prior to and during the fight, based on what I have learned from various tour guides and other people I have talked to. Prior to the fight, the bulls are kept in a small, pitch-black room for 24 hours. Immediately before the fight, the tendons in the back of their necks are cut to prevent them from being able to lift their heads much above parallel to the ground. They are also stuck with an initial barb to start them bleeding. When they are released into the arena, they are dazed and blinded by the light, not to mention confused and in pain. Once in the arena, they are forced to run around in circles, goaded by men with capes who jump behind the wall every time the bull is near. Next come men who run up to the bulls and stick long white barbs into their backs. As the fight goes on, the barbs turn red with blood, and blood mats on the backs of the bulls and stains the capes and sand underfoot. Finally the matador comes out, facing an already extremely weak and injured bull. After playing around with the bull for several minutes, the matador kills the bull by spearing it in the heart. Or so it supposed to happen. Often, however, the lungs are pierced instead, leaving the bull to drown in its own blood. Or, as we saw happen once, the spear falls out, and the matador is forced to try again. Our tour guide told us that one of the reasons that the ban is being instated is due to the number of spearings and respearings that sometimes occur – sometimes up to nine are needed with inexperienced matadors. In our case, the bull collapsed before a second spearing could be completed, and was speared in the head instead. The spasms were horrible to see… All in all, I think I’m glad that Catalunya is banning bullfighting.
We also really enjoyed walking around the open-air markets. Everything was so pretty! I was a little turned off from actually eating anything due to the flies that kept landing on all the uncovered food, but did buy some mixed fruit that was covered, and wanted to buy a lot more! I also wanted to buy some sort of typical Barcelona food to bring back to my señora, but was told that such food didn’t really exist.
1:08 PM
Sitting in the Madrid train station now, waiting for my 2:30 train back to León. I’ll be glad to be back, although this weekend was definitely a change from everything. I sat next to an extremely cute guy on my train over here, although unfortunately I didn’t aprovechar (Spanish word that I have a hard time using enough, as it doesn’t have a direct English equivalent – it means something like “take advantage of”) the situation beyond the initial hello. I think it was because I’m now a little distrustful of people from Barcelona, especially young men (plus I was tired). Also just talked to a dad and his young son from Minnesota in a restaurant here – funny how traveling makes you connect with people so much more… but here when you hear English you can’t just ignore it! Haha. They were extremely grateful for my Madrid subway map, which made me feel better about accidentally leaving my map in León and having to get a new one when I got here. And I felt so knowledgeable telling them about the subway, the Cercanía trains, and sights to see in Madrid. I’m such a seasoned traveler. ☺
Well, think that’s about it. I reserved the last of my eurail tickets, which was only €50.50 instead of €77. I think they thought I had a different type of pass, but I wasn’t going to argue! It’s ridiculous how expensive it is to reserve tickets. They make you think that all you have to do is buy the pass and everything’s free from there on, but far from it. Charlene has had to detour all over Europe because of trains that are “full” (meaning, they don’t want any more eurail passengers) and you have to reserve (meaning, pay more for) everything except for the least used and most inconvenient trips. I thought that buying a eurail pass and traveling across Europe was supposed to be cheap, but Charlene and I calculated it last night, and we figure you have to have at least $5000 to do any sort of significant traveling. So glad my travels are almost done, because I’m running dangerously short of money!
Brianna
Charlene and me our first night in Barcelona
the open air market
me with our dinner and sangria we made ourselves!
the bullfight
No comments:
Post a Comment