Sep 2, 2008
Posted by VC on Sep 2, 2008 in Breaking news, Euro V | 0 comments
No it has nothing to do with the Democratic Party.
Oh, how I’ve changed:
I don’t put ice in my daily java. Somehow my mouth acclimated to hot coffee.
Walking more than two blocks to get somewhere when my car is in the driveway is okay. After walking for nine hours, that’s Turbinado.
I think people inherently interact with each other similarly no matter what language they speak. The grass isn’t greener, it just grows on different soil.
I appreciate smiling waiters. When the ones who don’t work for tips smile at you, it doesn’t feel cheap.
Writing as a career sounds more and more appealing.
People I don’t know walking to the top of Castell de Montjuïc.
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Aug 15, 2008
Posted by VC on Aug 15, 2008 in Euro V | 4 comments
For those of you just tuning in, my blog has taken a turn towards stories about my adventures in Barcelona. Hey. It’s news to me.
Liseth and I are going to the beach today. I was going to go to the festival en Gracia; but, instead I´m going to nurse this burgeoning tan of mine. I´m surprisingly alert considering the amount of sleep I had last night… or should I say this morning. It´s 12:27 here. I woke up about two hours ago. Went to bed four hours before that. (¨
Yes, I said I would be blogging daily. However, I have intentionally avoided the computer to motivate myself towards real life social exchanges. It´s time to go.
I´ll write more later.
Stay tuned.
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Aug 13, 2008
Posted by VC on Aug 13, 2008 in Euro V | 0 comments
Rambling down Las Ramblas, an intriguing distraction of displays appealing to the prurient interest catches my eye. 7.5 euros later, I exit from a stairway uninviting to a wide population of Americans. No pun intended.
Museu de l’Erotica. Ooh lah lah. Sultry music sways like a lazy wave licking the sand. The first thing that I saw in the steamy gallery was the largest wooden penis I have ever seen. It’s taller than me. I’m 5′7.
“Eternal erection of man’s search for help from divinities.”
French nude postcards from the 1900s show a much curvier woman than today’s erotica would. Decapitated condom machines from the 60s are also on the walls.
Check out Kofi Ankobra’s “Incoming call”
Do artists paint human images with features that resemble their own?
[googleMap name="Eroticamuseo" description=" E L E R O T I S M O" width="300" height="300"]Rambla, 96 – 08002 Barcelona – Spain [/googleMap]
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Aug 13, 2008
Posted by VC on Aug 13, 2008 in Euro V | 0 comments
On the way to the Isla de Discordia, an area in which many of Gaudi’s works are located quite near each other, I was stricken with a craving for dried dates. Maybe I was getting a little home sick. Maybe I was just low on blood sugar. Either way, it needed to happen. I went to four markets in a row with no luck. On the Carrer de Valencia and Girona, I found a sneeze-guard free market that sold all sorts of delicious goodies. Not only did I get dried dates. But I got some candied ginger and papaya. Talk about hitting the spot. Found a trendy little shopping district with residences on the tops of shops.
Sunlight glinted off silver chairs and tables outside of cafes, similar to the ones I encountered outside Cafe Luzi. Slow walkers, bicyclers, and mopeders dominated the sidewalks, as well as the area between the one way streets designed to promote walking to places. In white paint where the crosswalk meets the street was painted a reminder that people that most of the people who die in traffic accidents are pedestrians. None of this walking into the street when no cars are coming like you can while on campus. The intersections are different in the sense that you don’t know who is coming around the the bend of the plaza’s art.
No mp3 player in my ears to block out the world. I haven’t spoken unnecessarily since I arrived. My lips taste like ginger.
How calm I’ve become. My mind is at peace while my pink and grey adidas tickle the pavement on their meanderous discovery of walking just to walk.
Much of these tourist attractions revolve around the display of Gaudi’s work. It’s all right. Most of them look like cracked-out gingerbread houses. Time to ramble on down to the coast.
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