June 6, 2015 - The never-ending quest for iced tea, and other stuff

I definitely meant to send a shout-out to our waiter from yesterday in Besalu. He tackled the issue of iced tea with complete confidence - not bad for a guy who was completely mystified by our request.

Mike loves iced tea - tries to limit his consumption, but really, it had been days since we left Atlanta. So we decided to try to explain the concept to our very kind waiter, who, of course, spoke no English. And needless to say, we do not speak Spanish, much less Catalan.

So we said black tea. Since it was approximately 95 degrees in the shade in Besalu, he was puzzled, but willing. I then said, two glasses with ice. Extra charge, he said. Okay, I said.

In a few moments we were served two cups of boiling water (with a saucer that functioned as a lid, both for splashing prevention and also heat retention), two teabags of indeterminate origin, two small water goblets, each with exactly two small pieces of ice. Ice, it seems, is a rare commodity and not to be just slung around willy-nilly.

SO - we steeped our teabags until the water was a pale shade of tan, I dumped my two pieces of ice into Mike's glass (so now he had four, rapidly melting), and he poured his very hot tea into the glass. After about a minute, he sipped. "How is it?" I asked. He nodded.

He took another swig, then I poured most of my cup of very weak brewed very hot tea into the glass. Voila - disappearing ice. "How is it?" I asked. He nodded again.

An iced tea drinker from the American southern states just isn't that hard to please.

*

This morning (Saturday) we assembled in the lobby promptly at  9:00 a.m. and set off to study the cathedral.

The Barcelona cathedral is a marvel of Gothic architecture, both inside and out. Our instructor knows it so well and we are so lucky to have her traveling with us. One problem: outside instructors aren't allowed into the cathedral with groups - and our headphones were a dead giveaway. So we followed Arleen from the entrance up to the apse, and she nodded meaningfully at features that she wished to expound on once we were gathered again outside on the plaza. 

What a wonderful building! The miracle of medieval construction continues to amaze. The soaring vaulted ceiling, the beautifully painted keystones, the intricately carved altar pieces - all are a feast for the eyes.

Outside again, we, as good OLLIs, peppered Arleen with questions. She's so great - she's so patient - we're so curious! As we travel around the neighborhoods and learn about medieval building systems, we are so lucky to have such a knowledgeable architect and gifted teacher as our guide.

The afternoon was our first time on our own since we arrived four days ago. A small group of us hit our favorite tapas bar for a quick lunch (and once again, it didn't disappoint), then struck out on a Rick Steves walk through El Born.

The funky Bohemian neighborhood of El Born is home to many ethnic citizens, many wonderful shops and restaurants, and the Picasso Museum. Picasso, who was born and lived in Barcelona until his 20s, held the city in high esteem until his death. Luckily for the world, Picasso's father saved pretty much everything he ever created from his early teens forward (think about those drawings you have on your fridge from the grandchildren), and this museum is a lovely little gem containing much of his early work, even a few pieces from the Blue and Rose Periods. It is absolutely astounding to see what Picasso did at the ages of 15, 16, 19, 20. The expansion of his genius and growth of his artistic abilities is perfectly captured here. What a transcendent experience!

(Above - El Born Cultural Center, where we could have spent an entire day.)

Along the walk through El Born, we window-shopped, took in the atmosphere, people-watched, and pretty much wore ourselves out. We also noticed that the vast majority of folks surrounding us were under the age of 35 - this is truly a city that skews very young. It makes for a wonderful, energetic vibe, true enough; but these old feet are tired now.

We are headed to the Cathedral Plaza to watch whatever might transpire there this evening; we have heard that Saturday night on the plaza can be quite entertaining. And I suspect we'll hit that tapas bar again before returning. Tomorrow, we get a tiny bit of a sleep-in, then off to the church of Santa Maria del Mar. And maybe another Rick Steves walk tomorrow afternoon. Las Ramblas, here we come.