Barcelona: We’re Not in Kansas Anymore, Toto

One of the funniest things that happened to us occurred on a night that we’d decided to head to the waterfront for dinner at a restaurant called Agua. As we walked along the marina near sunset, the sound of a marching band told us something was up in Barceloneta. Taking our cue, we darted across Passeig Joan de Borbo to check it out. After walking a couple of blocks we’d found what we were looking for: I’m not quite sure if it was a parade or street party. It probably was a combination of both.

In any event, the bash we’d stumbled upon was in full swing. Revelers lined both sides of the street and it wasn’t easy to tell who was in the parade and who wasn’t. Both elements sort of merged together in the street like waves thrust upon a shoreline, and no one seemed to care. Participants and observes alike appeared to be in various stages of sobriety. One group that passed in front of us wore matching Egyptian costumes, and each member carried some sort of prop: one had a plastic club that resembled something Bam Bam on the Flintstones might have used; another toted a giant plastic toothbrush.

After an hour and a half wait for a table and a dinner that progressed at a leisurely pace, we walked along the beach and then headed back in the direction of our hotel to find that the party was still going strong. Bands were still playing in the street, people were still dancing, and the air was choked with smoke from fireworks. I’ll say one thing: Barceloneta knows how to throw a party. We’re still not sure what the occasion was.

Another highlight was attending an Argentine Tango milonga at the Pipa Club in Plaça Reial. This was exactly what we imagine attending a milonga in Buenos Aires would be like. Ringing a buzzer at a locked door. The deadbolt lock snapping back, being led up a dark staircase to the second floor, the sound of tango music becoming louder. Walking into a dimly lit room, a small dance floor, faces barely visible in the dim light, watching the dancers and chatting. A view of lively Plaça Reial out the open windows. Tango in Spain!

Quick Tips:

A Barcelona Card, which offers unlimited travel on the Metro or buses as well as discounts at leading museums and attractions, can be a worthwhile investment for visitors. It’s offered in one to five-day increments, ranging from 17 € to 27 € for adults, 14 € to 24 € for children ages 4 to 12.

One aspect of Barcelona was mentioned over and over in guidebooks and in the online research I did prior to our trip: Les Ramblas. One book calls it "one of Barcelona’s essential attractions." I’d like to think that I’m no scrooge, but I found Les Ramblas to be vastly overrated. Yes, the sensory overload can be mildly amusing at times, but the appeal quickly wore thin. More often than not Les Ramblas seemed to be another version of the French Quarter in New Orleans, only with sangria instead of hurricanes. On a holiday weekend with large crowds replete with mime artists, gypsies, dreamers, schemers, vagrants, tourists and those that prey upon them, we were more comfortable away from the hubbub. Just so you know.

Best Way To Get Around:

Barcelona has an extensive Metro system with more than a hundred stops on five lines. Although we only used the Metro a few times, we never had to wait more than a couple of minutes for a train.

Weather permitting, we prefer to be out and about as much as possible rather than on the subway. For those with the stamina and inclination, it is possible to get to most of the major sites on foot, provided your base camp is centrally located. We did use the subway and funicular to get to Montjuïc from our hotel on La Rambla, although we walked back. And on another occasion we hopped on the subway to return to the Plaça de Catalunya after walking as far as the Hospital de la Creu i de Sant Pau.

Unless your plans include destinations further afield, I can’t say I’d recommend renting a car. Parking is limited, and like most major European cities traffic in Barcelona proper is extremely congested, not to mention nerve wracking. Scooters and motorcyclists dart in front of cars and between lanes with confounding, video game-like regularity. They’re so brazen I almost admired them.

This moderate to luxury-priced three-star hotel offered comfort and impeccable service, and was an oasis of peace and quiet with the clamor of Les Ramblas just footsteps away. If the Hotel Montecarlo wasn’t the best hotel experience I’ve ever had, it easily ranks among the top three.

The hotel has a stately, elegant facade and lobby. Our double room had as comfortable a bed as I’ve ever slept on. Dual remote controls allowed either of us to raise or lower head and foot positions for sleeping, reading, or television viewing.

A television with three English-speaking channels (BBC World, MSNBC World, and CNN), mini-bar, and a small sitting area with a loveseat, desk and chair rounded out the creature comforts. The closet had a safe to store passports and other valuables. The bath featured attractive salmon-colored marble tile, a wood veneer ceiling, full size tub with shower, and bidet. Matching bathrobes and slippers added an accent of luxury.

The hotel offers breakfast for 13 euros per person. Parking is available in their under ground garage for 18 euros per night. There’s also a rooftop "solarium" with chaise lounges and a view of Les Ramblas below. Free Internet access is available at a computer just off the reception area adjacent to the lounge. While the computer was occasionally in use by other guests, we never had to wait more than a couple of minutes to get online.

The hotel has an arrangement with Vanguard Rent A Car (info@vanguard.com) where Vanguard will deliver your rental car to the hotel and pick it up when you’re ready to return it.

More impressive than the amenities, however, was the service. Everyone we met was pleasant, friendly, and quick to smile. While we were able to handle most matters in Castilian, every one of their staff was able to switch to English easily and spoke it exceptionally well. They phoned a winery in the Priorat region that’s open for tours by appointment only and made the necessary arrangements for us. And after I shoe-horned our rental car front first into a garage space not much larger than a broom closet and left the car keys at the front desk for the night, the next morning we returned to find that they had turned the car around and backed it into its miniscule stall, making for much easier egress. Bottom line: we have nothing but praise for the Hotel Montecarlo’s staff.

One note: our room was on the top (5th) floor at the back of the hotel, away from the street. It was exceptionally quiet. It’s possible that guests occupying rooms on lower floors or those facing Les Ramblas might not have it as quiet as we did.

Additional information: District: Old Town
Metro: Catalunya (L1, L3)
Web site: http://montecarlobcn.com/
Email: hotel@montecarlobcn.com
Fax: 34-933 187 323

Ciudad Condal was recommended to us by one of the people at the front desk of our hotel when we asked where we could find some good tapas within a kilometer or two. He told us that this was one of the best tapas restaurants in the city, and we have no reason to doubt him. In fact, we liked it so much we dined here three times, twice for dinner and once for a cold beer and late afternoon snack after a long walk exploring Eixample.

Ciudad Condal has a large multi-level dining room and tapas bar. It’s an attractive dining room with dark stained wood almost everywhere. They draw a large, eclectic crowd (singles, couples, tourists, families, and large groups), so you can expect to wait for a table during prime dining hours. The tapas bar is very busy, and the seats go quickly there as well.

They have about as wide a variety of both hot and cold tapas as you can imagine, including all sorts of montaditos (tapas served on small slices of bread). Our favorites were the skewers of beef and the pimientos padron (seared green peppers with coarse salt). I can’t remember all the menu items we tried, but I do remember smelt montaditos, shrimp skewers, chicken, sautéed mushrooms, small ham sandwiches, and more. While each of us had our personal favorites, every single item we ordered was of high quality, which probably explains why this place is so busy. The service was always efficient, and I would venture to say more to the liking of those of us from the United States, where we’re more used to restaurants trying to turn tables than they are in Europe. Sometimes we became a little frustrated when we were ready for the check and our waiter was nowhere to be found. The staff seemed to be much more "accessible" here, for lack of a better word.

Our hotel really came through with a great recommendation, and we were glad they did. Just a block north of Plaça de Catalunya, it’s easy to find as well. That we dined here three times should tell you all you need to know.

My 1-10 ratings:
Food - 8; Service - 7; Atmosphere - 7

Additional information:
District: Eixample
Metro: Catalunya (L1, L3)

Stepping off the funicular at Estació de Montjuïc, we were ready to explore Barcelona’s hilly perch. Following a quickly hatched scheme, we decided to head in the direction of the Estadi Olympic, then somehow cut across to the Castell de Montjuïc.

As we walked along Avinguda de Miramar past the Fundació Joan Miró a smattering of raindrops began to fall. Undaunted, we turned down a steep but beautifully landscaped path. Here we got our first looks of the city below Montjuïc, and I snapped a couple of quick photos. Suddenly the threat of a more persistent shower loomed and we improvised by scrambling downhill in the direction of the closest building to seek cover. As if we couldn’t get any luckier, our chosen shelter was half tourist information center, half restaurant. Taking in our good fortune, we decided to order lunch and wait out the rain. We took the exterior elevator down to the La Font del Gat’s terrace where we selected one of the tables protected by large umbrellas.

The setting was near perfect, a garden-like terrace surrounded by trees, with a view of Barcelona off in the distance. We ordered a little tapas plate to share, a Serrano ham plate, a green salad with anchovies, beets, and goat cheese (one of those funky, crazy Catalan combinations that we’ve never seen anywhere else), two beers and water.

Now, I know a lot of people cringe at the mention of anchovies, but they were much milder, less salty, and had a freshness to them in Spain that I’ve never experienced in the U.S. And I think this was the last time we ordered Serrano ham. Not that it was the fault of La Font del Gat, mind you. It was just that after a week in Spain the thrill of the Serrano ham plate had run its course.

Although our waiter was attentive, our order of tapas never arrived. After our entrées had been served our waiter assured us that it would be out shortly. As time went on he came back a second time and told us again that the kitchen was working on it. By this time the skies had lightened and the rain had stopped. Our plates clean and our beer glasses empty, we decided we were ready to pay the check and move on, sans the item that was never served. Our waiter returned one last time and told us his friend in the kitchen had "forgotten" to prepare the dish, and offered to bring us fruit or dessert instead. We politely declined and he reluctantly brought the check.

The mishap with our order aside, we really enjoyed our dining experience at La Font del Gat. The terrace dining area is a relaxing, scenic setting; an idyllic place to wait out a summer rain shower on Montjuïc.

My 1-10 ratings:
Food-7; Service-6; Atmosphere-8

Additional information:

District: Montjuïc
Metro: Funicular de Montjuïc (from Paral-lel; L2, L3)

Jamboree has been one of Barcelona’s most renowned venues for live jazz and blues for decades. While its heyday may have been back in the 60s, Jamboree is still a popular venue for local and international jazz and blues artists.

This place just oozes "jazz club." The upper level is a dance club, but a walk down a dark and narrow flight of stairs transforms you to a seemingly different time and place. Dim lighting and arched brick ceilings accentuate the cellar-like ambiance. The bench seating quite frankly looks like it was lifted from a local park on a five-finger discount. The main sitting area is long and narrow, with a center aisle anchored by rows of benches on either side that face the stage. A few additional benches and two bars are located to the side of the stage. On the wall adjacent to one of the bars you’ll find several large framed black and white photographs documenting the club’s illustrious past. While it’s intriguing to gaze at the musicians performing in the photographs, it’s also interesting to note that the crowds in the photos are all men, and all are wearing coats and ties.

We ambled in to Jamboree on a Sunday night to catch a great performance by the Steve De Swardt Blues Band. Jamboree is their regular Sunday night gig as near as we can tell, and it became obvious to us that this quintet of musicians is extremely talented and experienced. While some performers can put it on cruise control or "mail it in", this band was tight, energetic, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. Steve and his band cranked out some hard-driving contemporary blues as well as some traditional material, including one of Robert Johnson’s legendary numbers.

Refreshingly, the crowd was into the performance and less into socializing; the opposite seems to be true more often than not at many live music venues here in the United States. Frankly, if you were in attendance and your foot wasn’t tapping along, I might question whether you had a pulse. I highly recommend stopping by on a Sunday night to check out this band.

After the main live performance finishes, Jamboree shifts gears to become a dance club. After the lights come up, a turning of the tide takes place, as a distinctly younger crowd begins to filter in.

Additional information:
District: Old Town
Metro stop: Liceu (L3)
Web site: http://www.masimas.com/jamboree/
Email: jamboree@masimas.com
Ph: +34 93 319 17 89

La Boqueria, also known as Mercat de Sant Josep, is reputed to be the oldest market of its kind in Europe. While that may or may not be true, it certainly ranks as one of the most impressive. In my experience only Florence, Italy’s Mercato Centrale even comes close. It's a terrific place to people watch, browse through the elaborately displayed stalls, and gawk at an array of items we can only dream of finding at one of our local supermarkets here in the United States. All sorts of fresh produce, meats, seafood, cheese, wine, bread, olive oil, and more are available.

Vendors here want to serve you, so don't pick up any fruit, vegetables, nuts, or other items yourself. You can, however, point out your specific selections to the vendor.

The crown jewel of La Boqueria has to be the huge seafood section. A circular arrangement located in the center of the market, this is probably the most seafood I’ve ever seen under one roof. Everything you can imagine from the sea: from tuna to cuttlefish to shrimp, to species you’ve never seen or heard of before.

We manufactured a couple of great lunches at bargain prices at La Boqueria. We bought bread, a couple of slices of chorizo and Serrano ham, manchego cheese and fresh fruit. An ample stash of great food for two, total spent: less than 5 €.

We came here every morning for our café con leche at the Bar Pinoxto, located just inside the main entrance and to the right. Juanito, the proprietor there, is a real character, always smiling and joking with his customers. In fact, indications are that he is becoming quite the local celebrity. Whenever one of his regular customers sat down, he’d reach behind the counter and pull out a magazine, then flip it open to a dog-eared page. On the page was a photograph of Juanito himself, dapperly dressed in a classic tuxedo, smiling for the camera with two other celebrities. He'd let his customer read the accompanying article then playfully boast of his newly found status. "Now all the women will want me," he’d laugh. Ready to pay the tab on our last morning in Barcelona my better half said, "Dos euros?" His reply in Spanish: "And a smile!"

The market is open 8am-8pm Monday through Saturday.

Additional information: District: Old Town
Metro stop: Liceu (L3)

The Plan

With a rental car, a couple of Barcelona guidebooks and little else in our possession (other than a desire to escape to a place void of other tourists), we set out to devise a plan: experience some local color outside of Barcelona while avoiding the mainstream attractions. But where to go? What to see?

Montserrat was an option, but there would be tour buses there, and no doubt masses of tourists that go with them. The French border looked enticingly close on the miniscule map in one of our guidebooks, but what lay beyond was a complete unknown. One small notation at the top right edge of our pitiful little map provided our only clue: "Perpignan 20 km". How shortsighted of us not to bring any guidebooks to France for our trip to Spain! France presented one other problem: our rental car with "unlimited mileage" was limited to 400 kilometers per day. Sounds silly, I know, but that’s what the brochure and paperwork that came with our rental car said. Taking winding, mountainous roads into account, we might be shaving our limit a tad thin. These were the cards we’d been dealt (or we’d dealt ourselves, depending on your point of view). So France was out of the running. The Costa Brava was a third option. Our guidebooks had a photo or two of some rugged looking, stunningly beautiful coastlines, but as we read further the word "resorts" popped up again and again.

In the end, we bypassed all of these options. We found a small entry in one of our books, and decided instead to head west in the direction of Tarragona, to the Priorat wine region to tour Scala Dei Cellars. Tucked away in the footsteps of a monastery dating back to the 12th century, Scala Dei is one of only nine cellars in Priorat, a region that produces some of the most expensive wines in Spain. This tiny little haven sounded like it would be just what the doctor ordered.

The Road Trip

Since Scala Dei offers tours by appointment only, the necessary arrangements were made by phone with the help of our hotel staff. Armed with a three o’clock appointment and some lunch procured from various vendors at La Boqueria, our only challenge was finding out how to get there. With our Barcelona guidebook at the ready, we got underway. I later learned that the directions we were relying on to get us to Scala Dei might best be described as "woefully incomplete."

We made our way up La Rambla and Passeig de Gracia, then turned west on Avinguda Diagonal. Eventually the horrendous Barcelona traffic was in our rear view mirror and we were on the highway toward Tarragona. So far so good. From Tarragona we found our way to Reus and then Falset. Here’s where the story could get really long, but in the interest of brevity I’ll spare all of you from some of the gory details. The well-worn phrase "wild goose chase" comes to mind, however.

We reached Falset at two o’clock, knowing we were within 10 km or so, with an hour to find our goal. Despite getting some good leads from a few locals, we spent the next two hours on various mountain roads (some more than once) following switchback after switchback. Thankfully, each person we stopped to ask for directions save one got us closer to our destination. As we later learned, the third person we asked complicated matters by sending us in the exact opposite direction we needed to be going. But as luck would have it we hit pay dirt when we stopped to ask good Samaritan number four, who knew exactly where Scala Dei was. It turned out we were only about 6 km away.

Mercifully, our perseverance was rewarded: down a hill, a sweeping curve to the left, followed by a sign on one of the small group of buildings that came into view. We were in the tiny village of Scala Dei. Not another tourist in sight. Heck, there wasn't even another person in sight. Perfect.

We pulled in, and after a couple of minutes we met our guide. We apologized for being late and he was very understanding, and told us they’ve come to expect people to be late since it is so hard to find. He spoke very good English, and over the next forty-five minutes he gave us our own private tour of his winery. He told us about the winemaking history of the region, and explained that the buildings Scala Dei Cellars uses today were once occupied by monks as far back as the 17th century. The original monastery that dates back to 1163 is actually about a kilometer down the road.

Interestingly, Scala Dei ages its wine in the very cellar the monks used. Half underground and with walls more than a meter thick, no artificial climate control is necessary. Amazingly, the cellar maintains a temperature that’s virtually constant year round. Ninety-five percent of the wine they produce each year is red, and they would actually like to see that percentage go higher since it sells so much better than their white wines. They produce three grades of red wine: their Joven, or table wine, Criança, and Reserva. The only real difference is how long the wine is aged in their French and American oak barrels. The Joven ages the shortest, the Criança about six months, and the Reserva generally about a year. Then the wine is blended and bottled, and is stored in the cellar until it is ready to be sold.

Some other interesting tidbits we learned were that the soil in the Priorat region, while rich in slate and mineral content, is virtually void of organic material. The end result is that the yield per plant is extremely low. Additionally, the wine tends to be very sweet, and can be too high in alcohol content if not carefully monitored. Our guide told us that the region has produced wines with the alcohol content as high as 15% to 17%, although their goal, of course, is for an alcohol content of less than 14%.

After our tour ended we thanked our host and went over to their little wine shop, where we were able to taste a few of their wines, and selected a bottle of Criança to bring home with us. On the drive back to Tarragona we stopped at a scenic overlook and lunched on the ham, cheese, bread and fruit we’d bought earlier at La Boqueria.

The Postscript

We had a good plan. The execution, however, left something to be desired. If I knew someone who was going to take on this little road trip, my first word of advice would be: get a map. A really good map. There is almost no signage along the switchbacks and hilly backcountry of Priorat. We passed many unmarked roads. The only way we found the little outpost of Scala Dei at all is because my better half speaks very serviceable Spanish and we were able to ask some of the locals for directions.

After the dust settled on our little excursion to Spain’s Priorat wine region, a lesson or two was learned. Most important of all, we had a good time. Our mission was accomplished: we’d spent the day away from other tourists, we saw some beautiful countryside, and had an enjoyable and informative visit to an area that’s been producing wine for centuries. And we scored a bottle of Prior Criança (14 €) that will be ready to drink in two or three years, one that will be savored, I’m sure. Especially when we recall the experience we had in acquiring it. Only next time we’ll bring a map.

* * *

Additional information:
Scala Dei Cellars
Rambla de la Cartioxa, Scala Dei
Tel: +34 977 82 70 27
Fax: +34 977 82 70 44
Open by appointment only; free.

The Plan

The memory of our enological outing the previous day still fresh in our heads, we once again set our sights on something off the tourist-beaten path on this, our second and final day in Barcelona with a rental car at our disposal. This time around the decision on where to go proved to be a much more difficult one. With internet access available to us at our hotel, I’m not exactly sure what caused the brain cramp that resulted in us overlooking this resource that was right under our noses. In any event, we continued to rely on the two guidebooks we had in our possession.

Montserrat was still an option; we knew the scenery would be spectacular, but we still wondered about the crowds and whether the monastery itself would hold our interest. The hilltop town of Girona sounded interesting. The site of countless invasions, it has changed hands numerous times over the centuries, but in all honesty it was a longer drive than we were up for. We also briefly considered the town of Vic, a medieval village in the direction of the Pyrenees.

Ultimately, we opted for the wing-and-a-prayer method: we were going to drive along the oceanfront up the Costa Brava and hopefully find a small town or beach sufficiently void of crowds where we could kick back, relax, and once again lunch on the delectables purchased during our daily pilgrimage to La Boqueria. This was one of those rare instances where yours truly (the eternal planner) relinquished control, trusting in our whim du jour.

The Road Trip

This time we headed down Via Laietana, wound our way onto Carrer del Doctor Alguader and headed east where we picked up the C32 out of the city. I was sure of one thing: we were going to see some spectacular seaside views as we made our way northeast in the general direction of Tossa de Mar.

I was wrong. As the unappealing outskirts of Barcelona gave way to the dusty, tired looking small towns along the coast, one thing was clear: the railroad tracks that cut along the highway between us and the waterfront were an omnipresent eyesore that was not going away anytime soon. I suppose the view would be fine if you were riding on the train, but this was decidedly not the scenic drive we’d envisioned. Dismal looking towns to the left, railroad tracks to the right, with only an occasional traverse up a hill yielding a glimpse of rocky coast below.

To make matters worse, by the time we’d left the C32 and made our way up the N11 and GI 682 to Lloret de Mar we found ourselves in a traffic jam. With more hotels than any other town on the coast, it’s no real wonder there was a bottleneck here. A traffic signal that seemed to let only four or five cars through with each cycle seemed to be the culprit.

We spent an excruciating quarter hour with the transmission in neutral, gazing blankly at the ugly concrete high rise hotels, then finally crept through the intersection from hell. The pause button released, we resumed our journey. As we continued toward Tossa de Mar the sharp eyes of my new bride spotted a sign: Santa Cristina Beach. She took a quick glimpse at one of our books and yelped with excitement. "Go back, go back!" she exclaimed. As I found a place to maneuver our little Fiat rental car into an about-face she read a blurb from one of the books that had Santa Cristina Beach and the word "unspoiled" in the same sentence. It was definitely worth a try.

We took a left and drove a couple of blocks through a neighborhood of stately, elegant homes, then found the parking area for the beach. We headed down a path nestled under a thick canopy of large pine trees. Following the steep path of log steps, we emerged from under the pines onto a small but very pretty beach. Surrounded by the tall pines behind us, there were rocky outcrops on each side and only twenty-five or thirty beachgoers. The sand more closely resembled very tiny pebbles, but hey, I’m not complaining. Looks good to me!

We spread out the beach towels our hotel loaned us and spent the next few hours gazing at the sea, chatting, napping, and lunching on the ham, cheese, fruit, and bread from La Boqueria. There was the occasional "Daddy, he splashed me!" of someone else’s kids, which we didn’t mind at all. I’ll say one thing: this is a great beach for those of you with children. It’s small enough so it’s easy to keep tabs o