Barcelona is wow indeed. After seeing pictures, before coming to Barcelona, I thought that Antoni Gaudí was a genius. Being here only confirms this for me, as I consider how I might be best able to convince Hoi-en that we need to renovate the house again, spending time carefully considering how to translate elements of Casa Batlló for a climate that includes winter.
A week is far from enough time, as with only a week one must choose whether one will experience Barcelona by day or by night. Dinner here starts at 21:30, bars don´t start to get busy until 00:30 or so and clubbing starts at 02:30. I haven´t yet woken before 09:30, but not much is happening here before 10:00 anyway, so no worries. Perfect weather all week, for which I am grateful. Off to the beach this afternoon where I´ll discover whether or not I belong in the nude section.
Oddest moment so far:
Walking down La Ramba and seeing a woman eating a roll of toilet tissue, piece by piece. Her methodology was entranching and lightning-fast. She´d pull out and break off a square in fron tof her face and slurp it in from the centre of the square all in a single, breathtaking moment. I observed four squares before I could finally puzzle out what was happening.
Favourite Gaudí:
Still can´t decide that one. On the whole, Casa Batlló probably wins, although the chimneys of Casa Milà, ´La Pedrera´, are certainly in the running. I spent nearly all day at the Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Familia, and if it is completed in my lifetime, I´d certainly like to see it, as it´s completely staggering already. The current projected completion date is 2025, but I bought a postcard that says 2021, so it´s clearly been pushed back. Park Güell has a delightfully organic feel, in places, but I spent far too much time wandering aroung the gardens and bored myself.
Off now to Palau Güell and perhaps the Palau de la Música Catalana before hitting the beach. Life is good.
Lateline - 23/4/2001: The making of the Anzac myth . Australian Broadcasting Corp
He said the Germans were only frightened of two soldiers -- the Australians and the Scots and we used to call the Scots with their kilts "the wild women from hell".
Gettin' a little more fancy:
I think this has to stop now...
Stylin' new do:
Where I come from this was called a shmohawk (now, apparently, known as a fauxhawk), cause you were a shmo if you couldn't commit fully to a mohawk. Now I'm 38 and my hairdresser gets to decide. All I know is it's good, and my head is way lighter now. Anyone looking for a haircut should drop a line to Yuval. Especially if you have a new yellow car, 'cause my man, you gots a new car you needs a new do.