BARCELONA Beginnings: The Chew sips Chocolate Caliente

     

The Chew		The View
"Veggie" Salad (with Tuna)		Arc de Triomf, Barcelona

Hola mi familia y amigos, and greetings from Barcelona! We've talked about it, laughed about it, cried about it (love you mom), and now I'm living it--albeit in a half daze. It's been nonstop for the past 36 hours, in which I've gotten about 6 hours of sleep on and off. And yet I want to stop my small nibbles, mile-long strolls, and barhops to share the first leg of my journey.

It all begins in the airport. And I nerdily was on the lookout for food, even at 10,000 feet. And a little booze. Thank you international flights...

And the breakfast packages from British Airways were a delightful surprise that I awoke to, as crinkling filled the air. Almost like Christmas morning without the smell of pine trees.


The 10-hour flight didn't feel quite so long, partly due to anticipation, partly due to a little chardonnay. After watching Dorian Gray, we were in Heathrow in no time.



And just when I thought I was to wander without the guiding light of Japanese food for 5months, fellow traveler James and I found a sushi bar with conveyor belt. For those that haven't enjoyed this active dining experience, the plates travel before you and are color-coded by price. By the end of the meal, the colors are tallied to create your total check. My love for Japanese food lives on!

By the time we got off our second flight from Heathrow to Barca, I was doing surprisingly well with only 2 hours of sleep. I calmly walked into the airport, with my enthusiasm bubbling over in a few leaps and bounds, then calm again. This is the story of my life these past 2 days--I am in utter shock, and fear waking up to find my 2 days in Barcelona to be an in-depth but rushed dream.

We are staying in a hostel, right on the famous Passeig de Gracia. A famous architectural feat of esteemed Antoni Gaudi fits snugly between the modernized hotels, cafes, and boutiques that line the boulevard. I've seen a collection of westernized stores (Starbucks, Puma, Rip Curl), which have proved a comfort to me when the unnaturally cold temperatures and foreign pigeon-flocked town squares start to instill culture shock.

Happily, I have yet to give in to a Starbucks coffee. Instead, I've enjoyed the rich flavor of a Catalan favorite: chocolate caliente. This isn't a mere hot chocolate, but rather a sippable chocolate fondue with a foccaccia slice of savory-sweet bread or even a churro for dipping. The churro/chocolate combo is to Barcelonian party-goers as Chano's is to USC frat-revelers: drunken munchie food.

The place we went to is called Buenas Migas, and it calls itself a "focacceria." You'll see lots of "-erias" in Spain, including the taparia which I still have yet to enjoy!

But goodness almighty is it cold here. I've realized I'm temp-tarded and have no idea as to the science of "layerism" and what it takes to keep warm. Who knew scarves and gloves could be more than fashion accessories. Certainly not a poor, young Angeleno like myself.

I'd say its in the 40s/50s by day, and 30s by night. My first night, I enjoyed a brisk run to Chopita's Bar to enjoy the wide selection of shots and performances--and by performances, I mean true surprises.

Kristin's "Eagle Scout" was a flaming shot that engulfed a marshmallow skewer, to make a perfect campfire on the bar. Lu's "Harry Potter"was also a fire-laden shot that engulfed an orange segment to create sparks. And we won't get into my "Monica Lewinsky."

How has my vegetarianism held up in this meat-filled world of Spanish cuisine? Asi asi. My order of a "special veggie salad" was special alright--came with a topping of tuna. I guess the Spaniards just can't contemplate my small work for the animals.

Interesting tidbit: The reason that Spanish cooking is so heavily on ham is because of its religious strife. In 1492 when the Catholics exiled the Jews and Moorish Muslims from Spain, the ruling Catholics enforced religious loyalty by including the meat that the exiled peoples would not eat: pork. How's that for bite with a political subtext?

The one thing that's missing to these exhaustive and food-filled days is, of course, sleep. And earplugs. Sharing a 12-person room in a hostel, with people coming and going and odd hours of the nights, is troublesome to this light sleeper.


Here's to siesta,
The Chew