Dali (Part Un)

Over the weekend, I traveled along the beautiful Costa Brava and enjoyed the small town of Cadaques.  This is where the famous Salvador Dali spent his childhood summers and eventually built his home here.  After my first look of this stunning coastal village, I understood his choice.  The water is a mix of blue to green with many large rock formations.  All the buildings are stark white with red tiled roofs making it picturesque. 

Sunday morning we set off to his home.  This adventure of course was met with a blinding hot sun and a hilly 30 minute trek from where we ate. Yet when I first gazed at the sprawling white building and felt the breeze from the Mediterranean my hike felt more like a pleasant walk especially after my dolce de leche ice cream.  A quick walk along the dock, I could see the desire to have such a beautiful view and secluded area. 

Soon it was time to see the Casa de Dali.  Unlike some muesums, it is a bit more guided in part because of chaotic nature of the house and likely in part to move more people through.  Many of the rooms feel quite small (especially for U.S. standards) and everything feels a bit jumbled together.  Later I learned that the house was built and added to over 30 years as Dali bought more fisherman shacks and surrounding land.  In the beginning he started with small one-room house for him and Gala which slowly evolved into a labrinth of white walled rooms and strange decor. 

Here are a few of oddities I discovered...

Apparrently Dali kept a cricket in a little "house" on his bedroom wall.  I'm not sure why anyone would want to hear a cricket chirp all the time, but then again he is a bit odd.

It's the tiny box on the wall past the bird cage.

One thing he often bragged about was being the first person in Spain to see the sun rise since his home is on the easternmost tip of the Spanish penisula.  He even had a mirror positioned in front a window so that he could see the sunrise from his bed. 

I found it interesting that he and Gala had separate beds.  Maybe they weren't big cuddlers?

Two paintings are unfinished which he left in the house when Gala died.  I find this quite romantic especially since the gesture is now show-cased to every visitor. 

Dali made a circular room for his wife which in the center has interesting acoustics.  I wonder if she was into music or if it just helped make conversation easier to hear...Either way it was fun to play around with the volume changed.  When you stood in the center and spoke, it seemed to amplify your voice.  Here is a link so you can completely see the oval room: http://www.salvador-dali.org/museus/portlligat/en_visita-virtual_6.html

I'm not sure if could enjoy my dinner when eating under a Rhino's head with bird wings.  How about you?

No matter any claim to the pool being the floor plan of Alhambra, it is a phallic symbol.  Trust me.
Here's a virtual link so you can see although the angle doesn't quite show the pool's shape in all its glory:
http://www.salvador-dali.org/museus/portlligat/en_visita-virtual_8.html

Upon my return to Barcelona, I immediately began researching Dali and Gala.  If you have a spare few minutes, just read the Wikipedia entry for either.  If you thought their home is a bit strange just read about their lives.  Wow.

Oh and here is Chirst of the Rubbish:

Settling into the Silence

My eyes scan the field searching for Ryan in his florescent yellow tshirt which is now drenched with sweat.  I find him just in time to see him strike one towards the goal although the keeper had found him as well and stopped it.  Darn.  I turn to see my new companion with disappointment across her face as well.  I shrugged and she replied with a quick sigh.

You see, I was watching Ryan play soccer with friends far up north of the city discovering something that transcends language barriers: sports and body language.  My companion was the girlfriend of one of the other players and was very nice.  The only challenge was that she only spoke Spanish and I only English.  Therefore, I only had a few useful words such as gracias or vale or si which don't get you very far in deep conversation.  Over the course of the next 2 hours, I found that smiles, claps, sighs, eye rolls, grins, shrugs, and other non-verbals became a new understandable language between us.  In between the events we sat in a companionable silence equally enjoying the game below us and cool sea breeze coming off the ocean just past the fields. 

When we first sat down, I felt uneasy with the silence.  Often we want to fill these gaps with small talk or empty statements trying to eliminate the quiet.  Quickly my mind raced along with possible things I could say, but the only thing I really could come up with is "Perdona no hablo espanol"  Not really something useful especially since I think she kind of already assumed this by my lack of conversation so far. Yet as I pressed forward through the silence for just a bit it became comfortable.  We shared an understanding that we could use words to communicate, but we could still enjoy the game together.  With each save, strike, and hit we mirrored each other cheering on our boys.  Lucky for me her boyfriend was on Ryan's team uniting us ;)  She even offered my some delicious gummy candy at least I could say thanks.  Together we communicated our distrust of the  bugs starting to swarm above us and the humor in one of the players rolling over and over on the field and the amazement in one strike going far beyond the field past the parks boundaries. 

As frustrating as language barriers are, they do illuminate commonalities between people and highlight some of the clearer non-verbal communications.  You start noticing people's tones and body language since you do not understand the words.  It brings you back to early childhood when you don't know everything and have to use your instincts to make sense of the world around you.  For that game I learned there is always a way to express yourself and you can make friends without words.

Montjuic de Nit

Here in Barcelona everything done that has to do with culture or socialization is done BIG.  While the grocery stores may be small and portions normal, their parties are not simple or small.  Case in point: Montjuic de nit.

Montjuic is a very large hill in Barcelona which is covered in trees, muesums, and topped with the castle of Monjuic which I can see at this moment looking out my balconey far in the distance.  Personally this is my favorite area of Barcelona so far...I love the height, views, and natural woods.  It also contains the bontanical gardens which I've yet to see but excited for none the less.  This giant hill and gorgeous venues hosted a night of music of Barcelona or la nit de la musica de Barcelona.  It had 10 venues along the hill featuring over 40 separate acts in addition to having 7 different muesems open.  They had 2 bus routes free of service transporting you around the hill from venue to venue.  Here's the map so you can get an idea:

Oh and in case you hadn't caught the time it is from 10 until 4 in the morning....did I mention these people know how to party?

Needless to say those extra few hours Ryan and I got from our misadventures with the muesums were much needed.  Our first venue was at Greek Theatre which is an open air theatre made for the 1929 World's Fair.  Here is a picture at night although it does no justice to the mood or feel at night:

The first site that greets us is a set of large steps surrounded by trees and plants.  We climb up to the entrance of the event to find three lovely ladies dressed up as angels....interesting.  They were hired by Axe to give out samples, I guess we know one of the sponsers, lol.  Upon entering there is a huge area that is landscaped with roses and gravel paths surrounding by columned areas and benches.  It is stunning and I feel regret having to leave it to go to the concert which has started.  We are ushered to enter to the right and I'm instantly overwhelmed by the beautiful site of stone and foliage and the sounds of Sandra Carrasco filtering through the night.  You can't help to love the romance of the setting....long vines cascading down the stone backdrop with stars overhead and a light breeze.   In addition to the venue Sandra has a fantastic voice which made the concert all the more fun.

Afterwards we grabbed a quick coffee at this ingenious Nestle coffee bar.  The waitresses used these counter top machines that use those prepackaged cups so it took no time to make any of the drinks and they promoted the coffee line for people to buy.  I will admit my iced cappacino was delicious....I kinda wanted a few more but there wasn't time for that.  Instead we walked a bit further down and bought a sandwich since dinner hadn't really happened yet. 

Before I continue I should mention the quest for flamenco.  While in Granada one of the events of the conference was supposedly flamenco.  Ryan and I were excited about this only to be at the wrong place which resulted in missing the flamenco dancers.  We were pretty bummed, but when we looked at the program for Montjuic de Nit we found redemption.  At midnight at the castle were scheduled flamenco dancers. 

So at this point in the night we are debating if we have time to hit up a muesum or head straight to the castle.  Pablo calls so we schedule to meet and nix the muesum which isn't that surprising if you've read my plan b and c blog.  Anyway we cram into the bus and begin our ascension up Montjuic.  When I say cram, I mean cram.  I was in shock when the driver allowed other people to get onto the bus and wasn't surprised by the girl blocking the sensor to allow the doors to shut....it was crammed. 

The castle feels old with a bridge to cross over the moat which is now landscaped greenery and stone walls and paths....it feels straight out of a movie aside from all the loud music and hundreds of people in modern clothes.  There are two venues at the castle which makes finding the dancers even more confusing from the start...navigating a castle along with finding the right place can be tricky.  We first find a food place and a huge lookout to I can only imagine is venue 1.  It looks like a classic giant rock concert complete with thousands of screaming fans apart from the castle in the backgroud of course.  We stopped and asked a guard where the other venue is (Ryan is actually quite good at asking for directions, I know surprising trait in a guy) and we finally find it.  Much to our dismay we have found a bunch of men singing blues...no flamenco in site.  Quickly we pull out the agenda to discover they have changed the times and no longer have the dancers.  Naturally we are quite bummed out, but decide hey maybe we can go take a look around the Miro Muesum.

Back on the sardine packed bus, down the hill, and WAIT.  It's closing in 30 minutes so they aren't allowing anyone else in.  Just a perfect cap off to our earlier mishaps with muesums.  It seems no muesum or flamenco dancer wants Ryan and I.  Quite disappointing.

We travel to another spot to try and meet up with a few friends which of course proves impossible in the crowds and spend the final portion of the night listening to more classic Spanish music.  I was mesmersized by all the participates dancing even if I did get elbowed a few times.  We called it a night around 2 feeling exhausted and bit let down from flamenco and began the long walk home from Catalunya.

Be sure to check out the event's website to hear some of the artists on the opening screen...it's pretty cool: http://www.bcn.cat/cultura/montjuicnit/2011/index.html

Plan B and C

I'm a planner.  I'm one of those people.  I strategically think through where I want to go, plan what to wear, when to go, when to eat....everything.  I even read all official postings places.  What?  I just want to know what they are trying to tell me and honestly, it's normally helpful info.  This probably stems from teaching or maybe this is why I am a teacher...I'm good a planning or neurotic, however you'd like to put it.

This post is my reluctant admitance that my planning doesn't work in Barca. 

Now in St. Louis, I would call Brigitte up and say I want to go shopping.  We would find a day that she was off and then I would think what stores do I want to go to and pick the right mall.  Then I would choose clothes that would be comfy and easy to try on things with and then start thinking when am I going to eat?  Brigitte would arrive on time like always ;) and off we would go on our shopping adventure or wherever we had planned.  Normally the only hitches we might hit would be traffic jams, wrong turns, or possible crowds.

Here in Barcelona it doesn't seem to ever work that way.

Late last Friday night, I was researching.  The big "free" muesum weekend here is the last weekend of the month so I wanted to decide what muesums we should go through.  I read my whole Fodor's guidebook noting all the free muesums in my handy dandy notebook (Blue's Clues anyone?).  Then I continued looking up a few other muesums on-line and had a nice list. 

Although there were only 2 free muesums on Saturday, I was excited.  I really wanted to see the Museu d'historia de la ciutat (the history muesum of the city) for it is filled with Roman ruins and has a great audio tour.  Ryan was excited as well, so we set off that afternoon with high hopes.  We soon arrived although it felt quiet and reserved especially for a free day.  Though I pushed this aside as Ryan started chatting in Spanish and I honed into all the new signs to read.  Quickly I read a line in English that was a bit disheartening, free day: Sunday after 4.  Wait, it was Saturday and somehow I had gotten the wrong day.  We decided to wait to go to that muesum since we could buy tickets any day of the week and maybe we would try on a Sunday.  Now we could rush across town to the other muesum or just call it bust which we did.  We had big plans for our evening so an extra hour or two relaxing wasn't such a bad thing, just unexpected.

Now Sunday we planned to go to the Picasso muesum partly because it was the most expensive and partly because we really enjoy art.  After a long, restoring sleep Sunday morning, we set out with renewed hope and excitement.  I also had learned my lesson and double checked on-line the hours and confirmed it was a free day. 

Upon arrival, I did not read any signs to confirm this nor did Ryan have any Spanish exchanges.  Instead we relied on our observation skills. Namely the three hundred plus people waiting along the street to enter the muesum.  As we walked on for ages with growing trepidation that the line might never end, I began to wonder do I really want to go to wait?  Now I'm a patient person and can wait for long periods of time, but 2 hours to save some Euros????  When we reached the end after at least 3 blocks of walking, we looked at each the all knowing silent communication of "hell no" and walked away. 

I found myself at that moment in a familiar predicament...now what?  My plan failed and I didn't really have a back up.  Ryan suggested the Catalan History Muesum since it was close by.  I was game although I felt unsure if they had a free day or not...as we walked the 15 minutes to get there which by the way isn't "close by."  In America close by is either a 5 minute drive or physically next door possibly a block or 2 away.  We arrived to discover Sunday is the free day!!!!!!!  Of course there was a catch, this is Barcelona after all, the museu d'hisotira de catalunya closes at 2:30 on Sundays or in 20 minutes seeing as it was 2:10.  At that point we took the bus home and tried to regroup.

The moral of these misadventures:  one plan is never enough.  Barcelona doesn't just surprise you with random puddles of dog pee or strange beggars or naked gay pride parades...it also likes to change it's hours, specials, and attract unexpected hoardes of people.  It always has a curve ball so you best have a plan B and like plan C.  Who knows maybe even a back up to the back up of the back up plan.

Additional Note:
So I even needed to have a back up plan for this post.  When I clicked publish, it errored and I lost allllll of my writing!!!!!!!  I think blogger is reading my blog and has a sick sense of humor.

Feast of Sant Joan

One of the many great things about spending a prolonged period of time in another country is that you get to experience their holidays and celebrations.  So let me tell you about Sant Joan...

After reading in my guide book it mentions summer solstice and fireworks and parties at the beach.  Sounds like a great holiday to me!  It did leave out a few details as all happy guidebooks do. 

The evening prior to Sant Joan I was sitting at friend's apartment snacking and chatting.  All of a sudden I heard a loud BANG!  Now I've been hearing a few of those bangs recently at our apartment, so I was curious.  Katie proceeded to tell us that the kids had been shooting them off for days at all hours. She of course just loved hearing bang after bang especially late at night...doesn't everyone?  This sparked off a lively discussion of Sant Joan and our plan of action specifically when to arrive to the beach.  As I was informed going early, say around 9 or so, warrants swarms of unruly children throwing fireworks in any direction including at you.  Needless to say we wanted to avoid this so the plan was to meet for dinner and drinks around 9 and head to the beach around 11 or so.  Ryan and I headed home a bit earlier that night so as not to be worn out of the night that lay ahead though we did have the privilege to hear one of those loud fireworks across the street as we walked to the metro.  Seriously sounds like a gun shot or a cannon.

I will admit I had some building anticipation mainly about the prospective fireworks.  They are tradition for me and always bring me back to my childhood.  A birthday without lots of lights in the sky and sooty smell of gunpowder is simply wrong so I was looking forward to having them albeit a few weeks early. 

The day had arrived and I was side tracked with buying an air conditioner.  You may not know this but I loathe the heat and I find that people do not enjoy the person I become as I get hot.  Ryan was starting to witness this horrendous event, so I was on a hunt for an A.C. for the apartment.  To my grand luck I found one and one on sale.  So rather than napping or snacking or just resting, Ryan and I were hauling the giantic box up our lovely 97 steps.  At that point I realized I had approximately 15 minutes to get ready despite being sweaty and out of breath.  You should be impressed to know that we left relatively on time.

Esther and Gerardo's apartment was lovely and filled with great prospects of food and drink :)  While Esther showed Ryan and I the proper steps for making a mojito, Gerardo was preparing a common dish from Mexico consisting of steak, bacon, peppers, onion, and cheese....I know: YUM.  Slowly other friends arrived and I got to play my favorite game: guess what people are saying.  One thing I have found though is that if the person can speak English, they will commonly translate for me which is very sweet.  Though it is interesting listening to room full of tispy people quickly spewing out rows of Spanish words that I will never understand.  That is an experience all of its own.  Anyways as the night continued and poor Katie texted and called, I noticed that time was passing.  Our original plan of 11 was quickly changed to 1 and then "later."  Now we have all been there where the plan is go to do this and as the hours pass the plan never really comes to fruition.  This was not one of those times.  I soon learned that the biggest tradition of Sant Joan is not just to go to the beach but to stay all night to watch the sunrise.

You can imagine my shock.  I'm used to late parties and good times, but no one prepared me for a 10 hour party.  No wonder I was being fed such delicious foods!

Finally around 3 after a demanding yet pleading call from Katie, we headed toward the beach.  Really we headed for the metro since we weren't anywhere near the beach, just across from the stadium ;)  The metro was an experience as well.  Despite the early hour, it was filled with people whom were almost all drunk and yelling and singing and swaying.  It's a miracle no one fell on the tracks...truly the cars were full of happy, celebrating people and probably a few thieves finding easy prey.  At this point I was walking down the street with a group of 12 hoping that we were going the right direction towards the beach particularly since we had a long debate on the metro street corner about this.  After a quick dance at the random street party we discovered, I figured, this has to be the right way and it was just another 10-15 minutes of walking. 

Here is the street party.

It's hard to perfectly describe the scene that was waiting for me...

Miles of beach covered with people, chairs, blankets, and bottles.  As we began to walk down the long stretch ahead of us (looking for a few others we were supposed to meet up with, namely poor Katie), I was floored by this drunk mob reminscence of spring break Cancun: everyone screaming drinks in hand.  The only piece that didn't fit was the random fireworks and bangs.  This was not what I had pictured upon arrival to the beach although in retrospect, I'm not sure why I had thought anything differently.  Eventually we met up with the others, pushed our way through a night club, and found ourselves a spot of sand.  Now just three more hours to go until dawn!

This is just a few us on the beach...notice the bottle of Coca :)

The feast of Sant Joan was a great one filled with quality people, good food, and most importantly drunken idiots to laugh at.  I don't know that I've ever sat on the beach until dawn especially with thousands of people, but it was a true experience.  If nothing else it makes bitching about staying up til 12 for New Years look absolutely ridiculous!

Dawn had arrived and most of the partiers were leaving most unfortunately this behind...

One other thing: the metro was stopped so we had a lovely hour wake home.  Never have I been soooo happy to see a bed or that new air conditioner.

If you want to read a great description that is much more accurate than my Fodor's:
http://bcnin.com/2011/06/sant-joan-barcelonas-craziest-festival/

Red Tape

I'd like to say that it's Spain that does everything backwards or makes things so difficult, but in reality I think it is anything official.  Let me give you just a few lovely examples...

Banking
So the past few days I've been trying to either transfer Ryan some money or take some more out of my account.  Nothing I've done has been successful.  First I was going to transfer from my bank account into his U.S. one.  Well first I had to wait until 9 a.m. in the states which translates to 2 p.m. here to call.  Then the lovely attendant told me I had two options: write him a check or come to the bank to make a wire.  Clearly neither of those options are possible since I am IN SPAIN.  Scratch plan uno.  Then I'll just pull some money out of the ATM like my lovely bank ladies and I had discussed before I left.  Down five flights of steps, 4 blocks away, and two banks later I discover my bank had refused me.  Okay, I'll just give them a call which still entailed returning the 4 blocks and walking up the 5 flights.  Sigh.  I called the 1-800 number to discover to talk to a person, they don't open until 7, so I had another 3 hours here in Spain to kill without being able to do my errands.  Alright a little sun and reading can't hurt ;)  I called and talked to another helpful lady who put a note on my account though she warned me to wait a hour before attempting to use it.  Just another hour of waiting....I can do that.  So I actually got caught up in my book, Jennifer Cruise is funny, so I really waited a hour and half and then walked back down the stairs and blocks and arrived at the ATM.  I scanned the area around me....always a bit nervous when alone and pulling out cash no matter how close la policia are...Guess what????  It STILL rejected me.  Back up the steps to call again.  The lady of course put me on hold because that is always the penance for asking to get a solution.  She said she called someone and the travel notice is finally clear and I can use the card. So now I'm drink a coke trying to relax myself before I go back down and try it all over again.  Forgive me but my optimism is a bit shot.

Post Service
In my earlier posts I might have mentioned forgetting a few key items in my hotel.  It's the problem with moving too quickly.  That and I think I have a deep set desire to leave my i-pod everywhere (I've already lost one to the plane once).  So Ryan and I have been trying to figure out how to get the items back since it is an 11.5 hour train ride not to mention the cost of that train.  After a few calls and e-mails with the hotel, we finally were given the suggestion to have a postal service pick them up rather than having to send an actual person (thank god).  They suggested UPS, which to me is a comfort zone since we have UPS in the U.S.  We hope on-line to attempt to start this simple process only to spend the next few hours in confusion and loops and canceling 2 transactions.  I'm truly not convinced that they are going to pick it up today since it still told me that the package will arrive in Barcelona today at 10:30 a.m. even though we put in the collection last night at like midnight.  Also when we just scheduled a collection it never had me put in my credit card or when it was going, just the zip and city.  Even UPS is difficult to navigate!  Just send me good thoughts or you may never get any more pictures on my blog seeing as the chargers are in Granada or on a UPS truck.

Spanair
When we were planning our trip to Granada, it turned out that I had to fly by myself since the train was booked.   We quickly booked  a ticket from Spanair since they were the cheapest and times were the best I could find.  Of course a few hours after booking, I received a strange e-mail (in Spanish of course) that said something about the payment not working.  Of course it didn't!  So Ryan had to call them immediately and fixed it all whilst attempting to work.  Ah, problem adverted.  When we returned home, we checked his account to not only see the fee for the plan but another 110 Euro charge from them.  Wtf????  So Ryan e-mailed them about a week ago.  I had been meaning to call them, but was not looking forward to arguing with a Spanish airlines about his bank account.  Finally they got back to him today to say it is a retainer or something and after 10 days they recharge his account.  Apparently the money should be put back in now, but what is up with that??  Since when can companies just charge an extra 100 euros without telling you and then giving it back....strange happenings.

Unfortunately these are just a few of the lovely occurances dealing with money and companies and I guess life in general have to offer.  Though I do think that being in another country clouds it up just a bit.  I have a feeling you all have many of your own similar stories.

Bona Tarda

Updates....................................................................................................................................................

Banking: The third time was the charm!  I know, can you believe it?  When I went back down for that last try it worked and I was able to pull out money. Of course the usual ATM I was going to go to had odd guys standing in front of them, so I had to find a different one, butttttttt I still am now able to pull out cash.  Yay!

UPS: This is did not go as smoothly.  Wednesday UPS called Ryan's phone in the evening saying there was some kind of issue.  Ester, being the sweet person she is, talked to UPS to figure out what the problem was.  It helps when you can easily speak fluent Spanish :)  She said it was something about there being 2 labels and they are going to charge us twice if we don't call tomorrow with the confirmation number...strange.  The next day the package arrived YAY and then I had Ryan call them still to make sure we didn't get double charged.  At the moment all is well and I finally have my chargers again which means PICTURES!!!!!!

An evening stroll

One of my favorite things about Barcelona especially Barri Gotic, our neighborhood, is that everyone is always out.  Walking around the narrow, history filled streets is an enjoyable way to spend any part of your day, but I particularly like dusk.  As the sun is casting a soft glow on the stone, the entire city emanates romance.  Adding to the ambiance is all of the music.  Each turn of the street reveals either a guistarist, an opera singer, or even a string quartet.  Barcelona is filled with music and romance and beauty.


With this as our backdrop, you can imagine why Ryan and I take many strolls around the city.  Just last night we enjoy the cool evening breeze and our lovely neighborhood.  We wandered around a few of the stunning and quite old cathedrals, watching the bubble guy create 4 foot masterpieces, and enjoy a few musicians.  Then we discovered the artisian bazzar just a few blocks away.  I've been in search of honey and Ryan knew this would be the place for it.  The stands were filled with herbs, honey, cookies, and cheese.  One vendor had goat cheese which is Ryan's favorite and we happened to be offered a sample.  I can't say no to free food especially at a sale of this quality.  I will admit though I was a bit nervous.  I don't mind goat cheese, but normally the over powering flavor isn't of my personal preference.  Wow.  I was glad I tried it.  The texture melted away on my tongue leaving such lovely flavors.  These was a work of art, hence artisans I guess!  The kind salesman offered us a stronger option which I was sure couldn't beat the former.  Once again I was kindly mistaken.  I just love with this happens.  The second was stronger, but even richer and more delightful.  Ryan had the same instant love I did which is why I knew it was essential that we rush over the ATM and grab a few more Euros to buy some.  I wasn't going to wait a few more weeks!  Lucky for us we came over just in time before the stands were closed up for the evening and purchased our prize.

After those few tastes we realized something: we were HUNGRY!  This is always a tricky decision that I truly believe every family is plagued with: What's for Dinner?  It is the eternal question for all mankind and it doesn't get any easier being in a foreign country.  We quickly debated the options: go home and cook, grab a tapa, try a burger...  Soon we settled to try the cheap burger advertised at a local bar I spotted a few days ago.  As we walked though we were quickly side tracked. 

There was a small place, which really isn't saying much seeing as almost all the shops and bars and restaurants here are quite tiny, filled with people with a neon orange sign which read: Wok to Walk.  Upon my research now, I've learned they started in Amsterdamn and now are available in 9 different countries.  There goal is to make fast food that is healthy and fairly priced.  Our reasoning?  A line of people and delicious smells.

You don't really walk in because the line is out the door due to the size and volume of waiting customers.  What you do see is a clear glass window with 3 men filling sizzling hot woks with mushrooms and noodles and garlic and sauces.  They quickly flip and toss the ingredients with one hand while dumping in something else with the other.  This site alone won my vote: instantly.  Hung against the window is a huge version of their menu (clearly they expect people to be waiting in line outside) as well as a set of menus just at the door.  Here is their menu on-line although this isn't exactly our menu since it varies for each country or region:

As you can see just looking at the menu, it was going to be a tough choice!  Soon we were inside the building right in front of the wok masters even getting a few random hits of hot oil: we were that close.  After staring at all the choices I finally decided: egg noodles, beef, veggie mix (which had mushrooms, bok choy, broccoli, peanuts, and pineapple) and the classic teriyaki.  Arriving at the register was an exciting accomplishment especially since not only did we have to stare at the men cooking these enticing entrees, but we had to smell it.  Wow.  Garlic hitting hot, sizzling oil gives such a love scent.  Now we just had to wait for our food while watching the staff attempt to call the names of people whose orders were ready.  I think the best was Bob who was called three times and still didn't come up.  The next order was for some girl who was playfully beckoned behind the counter and then "Bob" realized his food must be up as well.  I have a strange suspicion that his name was not Bob and he had forgotten the fake name he listed.  Then my name was called and I was handed this orange box that was incredibly hot and smelled delightful.  We quickly asked for a bolsa and bolted out of there.  There is never a happier feeling for me than a bag of hot, steaming noodles in one hand and a circle of tasty goat cheese in the other.

I do love strolling through the streets of Barcelona.