Spain - Day 3 - Touring the Town

Does this look familiar? Well if it doesn't, it should. This is the bakery we "passed up" the morning of our second day in Spain. The same place where Ingrid was sure had the best baked goods in all of Barcelona. Of course, the next morning, she insisted we head back to that same bakery. I had my doubts, but agreed to give it a shot just to make her happy. I mean, how can you resist a face like this?... She's so delighted to be there.



For once, Ingrid may have been right. The goods at this bakery were absolutely scrumptious. She ordered a couple skinny, freshly baked baguettes with cured ham (or jamón) and cheese inside. They were delicious. In case you didn't know, the Spanish people love jamón. During our time in Spain, I must have eaten more cured ham than I normally do in an entire year. But that's not to say that I didn't enjoy every tasty bite!



After enjoying our fantastic sandwiches, we hopped back on the tour bus to explore another part of Barcelona. This part, however, wasn't as nice as the other parts. And, apparently, graffiti is a problem no matter what country you're in.



If this is the name of a Barcelona gang, I should be an honorary member.



From the top of our tour bus we saw another bus operated by the same company. This is different from the bus shown in the first picture of Day 2 of our trip and is the better of the two tour bus companies in Spain, and we would later learn this from experience. Go Bus Turistic!



Not being sure what we wanted to see next, we got off the bus here and took a look around. There was some "mot-OH" exhibition going on, but we never really found out what that was.



Instead, we hiked up a walkway to this huge government building that supposedly has a beautiful fountain, which is turned on at night. Too bad it wasn't later in the day.



After riding the bus a bit further, we got off at what Ingrid dubbed the "Universal Studios of Spain".



The concept of this place was that it was a conglomeration of the different architecture from various parts of Spain. Although Ingrid despised the notion, I though it was quite nice.



And what could be nicer than a sandwich and a pitcher of sangria to wash it down?



It may have been touristy, but our scheduling didn't permit us to see every corner of Spain, and this was one way of catching a glimpse of different areas.



From Ingrid's standpoint, one of the few saving graces for the place was this Picasso exhibit, which Ingrid appreciated. I shared in her sentiment, especially given that the timing of our trip didn't allow for any museum visits.



Immediately upon entry into the Picasso exhibit, we were told "no pictures"... but that clearly did not stop us from horsing around (pun intended). Ingrid noted that with all the Picasso works scattered throughout the world, this guy must have been so busy, just churning out work after work after work. Reminds me of my job.



After getting a dose of contemporary art, Ingrid led the way to the sculpture garden.



All that walking around eventually caught up with me so I joined this tired old man for a snooze, despite reading signs to "keep off grass." Yes, we're terrible people who don't follow rules.



There was interesting art scattered throught the sculpture garden. Not sure what's going on here, and I'm not sure I want to know. Hmmmm...



From the top of the sculpture garden, you could see the entire city and we sat around for a while just taking it all in.



On our way out of that place, I had my first unpleasant encounter with the Spanish people. I wanted to use the restroom before getting back on the bus and asked a girl who worked there to direct me to the restroom. Below is how our conversation went. Please keep in mind that there was no language barrier to get in the way, as the girl spoke perfect English.

Excuse me, can you please tell me where the bathroom is?
They are everywhere.
Well can you please direct me to one?
Which one?
Umm, the closest one.
I cannot tell you which one is closest. They are all close.
Well where is one of these close bathrooms?
Everywhere.
Are you telling me you can't tell me where the bathroom is? Is there one that way *pointing*?
There is one over there *pointing in multiple directions and in no particular direction*.
Uhhh, okay.

I am not exaggerating. This is an actual conversation I had. "They are everywhere"?!?!?!?! Thanks a lot, lady.



Well after finding the restroom, we boarded the bus which took us past this structure designed by a Japanese guy. Very cool.



The bus also passed the stadium where the Olympic Games were held, which appeared to be completely barren.



It was a sunny day and as the bus circled back to Las Ramblas, we got a great view of the harbor...



... and noticed that traffic is a problem no matter where you go.



It's time again for some more great pictures of the Spanish architecture.



And another example of a Spanish street corner.



The bus eventually took us back to Las Ramblas, which was extremely crowded.



We decided not to get off at Las Ramblas and headed to Avenida Diagonal to grab lunch. We selected this place, which turned out to be a huge mistake. It was the only bad meal we had during our entire trip. After falling in love with the patatas bravas from Tapa Tapa the day before, I thought I'd enjoy some more here, but instead of tasty potatoes in sauce, I got crispy potatoes sitting in a pool of oil. Come to think of it, everything we ordered from that place was super oily. Yuck.



Better to stick with something I know... something I know very, very well.



After a very heavy lunch, we decided to visit Sant Cougat, the place Ingrid stayed during her brief stint in Spain while in law school.



Not only that, we decided to take the subway to get there.



At first, I was a bit confused by the subway system, but quickly became familiar with it. I'm sure I could find my way around even without my trusty translator.



Sant Cougat seemed like a very quaint, upscale neighborhood and I could see that it would be a perfect place for Ingrid to choose to live.



It had been so long since Ingrid had been to Sant Cougat that we had difficulty finding the place Ingrid lived after taking a wrong turn. Back when Ingrid was here, she rented a room in this house. She claims she spent many nights thinking about me and wishing I was there, but I'm sure she's just saying that. This house is where she met her friend Evelyn, who rented another room in the same house. According to Ingrid, the lady who owned this house was going through a divorce at the time and needed rental income to support her lifestyle, but didn't particularly care much to have the two of them in her house. I'm glad we didn't run into her.



We later walked to the main part of the town to see the places Ingrid used to spend time (thinking about me, of course). Sant Cougat is a lovely little town and it was a great escape from the city.



As we walked down the street a pungent odor overcame us as we passed by this store. As I mentioned before, the Spanish people love jamón. And there is no better jamón than jamón ibérico, which is made from the black-coated ibérico pig. True ibérico piggies are fed only acorns for a period of time before they are slaughtered. This results in jamón with regular flecks of intramuscular fat in the slices of ham, which creates a smooth texture and rich savory taste. After the pigs are slaughtered, they are salted and left to dry for two weeks, after which they are rinsed and left to dry for another four to six weeks. The curing process then takes about nine months, although some producers cure their jamones ibéricos for over two years. Because jamón ibérico only accounts for about 5% of Spain's cured-ham production, it is very expensive and is seldom exported. Throughout Spain, cured ham can be purchased in local stores, but at this store in Sant Cougat, this was the only thing that could be purchased.



The store had the widest variety of jamón, including jamón ibérico. Not only that, but numerous pig legs were lined up on display and ready to be thinly sliced upon request. No wonder it smelled so foul around that area...



These huge lumpy sacks hanging on the wall are actually entire pig legs that are also available for purchase. For only 525 Euros, you can be the proud owner of one of those on the right there.



Even to the amateur eye, the differences in quality are readily apparent. Here are the lower-grade meats which look more brownish-red and have stringy, frayed fat striations.



These higher quality meats look much more appetizing, but cost an arm and a leg more. No pun intended. If you can get around the fact that these are actually cured pig legs, you might be able to enjoy feasting on some jamón. If Ingrid could get around the smell that emanated from that place, I would have ordered some of the jamón ibérico.



A couple of dry heaves later, we headed further down the road to this local church and plaza, where we had a seat and relaxed as the sun set.



It was great to be there with no work and no responsibility. It was what I had been waiting for all year long, and as I sat there with Ingrid watching the little kids play soccer in the courtyard, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if we left our jobs at the firm and moved to Spain for good.



As night fell, we made our way back to the subway and headed back to Barcelona. Ingrid took three shots of me standing here, and this is the best of the bunch. She's clearly not Japanese.



When we got back to Barcelona, we headed out to Las Ramblas and wandered around, trying to find a place to eat.



Many of the places we wanted to eat were closed or had zero availability, so we stopped at Cafe Zurich and sat on the patio to enjoy some food and drinks. More vodka on the rocks please.



This would be a cool picture if not for Ingrid's purse in my lap. After being warned by numerous people about thieves yanking purses from women's hands, I did my part to protect Ingrid's expensive purse. I doubt any one there would try, since they all think I look like Jackie Chan and know Kung-Fu. Being well-acquainted with the public transit system at this point in our stay, Ingrid and I caught the bus back to our room at the end of the night.