Chris McCann Blogging

BARCELONA’S a laid-back city – think London having swallowed a tranquilliser.

Not that the driver of the A2 bus from the airport gave off that impression as we edged into the heart of Catalonia amid the sweltering heat and late Friday afternoon traffic.

A near three-vehicle pile-up involving the bus, a car and a cyclist resulted in something I don’t think I’ve seen before – an animated bus driver hopping out of his seat and onto the street for a full-blown row…

And so the sound of tooting horns and squabbling locals marked our arrival in a city still basking in high temperatures for the time of year.

After checking into the Eurostars Gaudi Hotel – located in the Ensanche district and surrounded by a wide assortment of cultural gems, from the Monumental Bullring to the National Theatre of Catalonia – we took the first of many trips on the city’s underground to the trendy El Born district in search of a tapas restaurant.

As it turned out, we didn’t have to look too far.

They’re seemingly everywhere in Barcelona and my girlfriend was introducing me to the cuisine for the first time. I wasn’t to be disappointed – as the early evening sun went down and gave way to a balmy, atmospheric night, we sat outdoors beneath balconies draped in clothing and Catalan flags, enjoying a piquant mix of patatas bravas, croquettes, meatballs, seafood and chilled sangria, all reasonably priced below the €20 mark.

Not even a quick heavy downpour, forcing us to dash inside for cover, could dampen the mood and before long, we were back to some lazy people-watching (what is with all the jumpers tied around people’s shoulders here? I like it. And confess to doing it myself by the end of the weekend).

We ended Friday, perhaps typically, in an Irish pub nearby. Okay, it was two Irish pubs nearby, but it was a good opportunity to rest up before an early rise on Saturday morning.

After a refreshing breakfast in the perfectly air-conditioned hotel dining room, we emerged into the intense morning heat and set off for the city’s Gothic Quarter.

Here, the narrow, winding cobblestone pathways lead to many of the area’s attractions – not least the Cathedral, which imposes itself rather beautifully on the streetscape.

The area is perfect for an afternoon stroll and with lots of bars, benches, charming buskers and restaurants, the temptation to just sit in the sun is never far away. We do would exactly that soon.

But, firstly it was a short walk across to La Rambla; where the bustling La Boqueria market provided the unlikely setting for lunch.

Hailed as “a paradise for the senses”, the market offers anything from fresh fish to wines and fruit and veg. We picked up crepes (cheese, ham, spinach and some spicy sauce for the girlfriend and Nutella and strawberries for plain old me) and a cold drink for under €10 each before visiting the vast number of stalls.

It was only after trailing around the El Raval district in search of second-hand clothes shops that we finally rested our weary legs outside a restaurant in the blistering sunshine over a cold drink.

By Saturday evening, we were walking again. That’s the thing about Barcelona, it’s a city you can aimlessly walk around and expect to stumble across somewhere sure to grab your attention.

One such place is undoubtedly the El Paraguayo restaurant, tucked away in a side street off the main seafront strip. The restaurant, on hearing of our arrival, had offered us a complimentary meal, which was made it feel kind of homely – the wooden décor and intimate setting made added to the warm welcome we received, as did our waitress, who was content for us sit on late into the night.

She served up delicious spinach pie for starters before perhaps the largest steak I’ve ever seen with chips for mains. Helpings of daupinoise potatoes and grilled asparagus added an extra dimension, but the truth was the steak in itself was enough.

We finished the night in the intriguing El Bosc de les Fades, a bar which boasts a “unique and magical forest inhabited by strange trees, gnomes and other unexpected creatures”.

As trippy as it sounds, it proved to be a good last stop for a quiet drink before a late-night walk and a bit more sea-gazing.

And speaking of which; Sunday was to be our ‘beach day’ and as the temperature, climbed, we took our positions on loungers to soak up the rays and enjoy the occasional dip in the Mediterranean.

Two things you’re sure to be offered on the beach is Barcelona – a cocktail or a massage. Or both – about 100 times. I opted for the latter for €5 and although it was nice(ish), at times it felt like a light assault on my back and legs.

But still, we were also able to walk just a short distance through a food fair en route back to the hotel where we fell into bed and watched an episode of, er, Life On Mars!

By Monday we were set to crash back down to Earth with our flight back to Belfast. But not before a quick look at the beautiful Sagrada Familia, a church building which has become one of the most universal signs of identity of the city. It is visited by millions of people every year and even in this sticky Monday morning heat, tourists packed around it just to steal a glance.

Aesthetically pleasing, it perhaps epitomises much of what Barcelona is about. The beautiful sights. Scratch the surface and a rich and unique Catalan culture and people is there to be explored, but sometimes, you just want to sit and watch the world go by.

The world that looks back at you here is truly something to behold. Just don’t upset the bus drivers.

AT SCHOOL, I have to admit just thought of the Irish language had me running for the hills. Or, to be more specific, the canteen. I remember one of our classes fell just before break and as the clock ticked agonisingly by, the smell of bean pies rose from the ‘dinner hall’ below and in through our open windows, meaning those last minutes were spent wondering how crispy the pastry would be this morning.

As our teacher brought the class to a conclusion, we all squashed up the door awaiting the bell, like greyhounds anticipating release from their traps. Then, chaos. A stampede. Down two flights of stairs. Schoolbags were systematically dropped off our shoulders and flung into a faraway corner. We wrestled each other out of the way just to get ahead. ‘Careful there, lads!,’ Mr Haughey would shout after us.

‘Right, everyone back inside!’ It was too late. Class IC3 could be a rebellious bunch, if not always into our Irish. By the time we left for grammar school three years later, may of us had left Irish behind. And it has to be said, with some degree of satisfaction.

….I wouldn’t say the regret wasn’t instant, but boy, did it creep up on me!
Perhaps firstly when I started out in journalism in west Belfast, where every second person, it seemed, was fluent. Or could at least, from what I could see, hold a basic conversation.

Those bloody bean pies, I thought to myself! But one day, one day, I’ll get back to this. That one day, one day, I’m glad to say, came on this week when I started Irish classes with Lurgan school teacher, Colin Madden. I’d been told about Colin by a musician I met on the train a few weeks ago and instantly liked the idea of the one-to-one-type classes he was offering.

Sitting at a kitchen table seems easier than a classroom, it must be said.
And crucially, Colin’s approach is relaxed, yet measured, with seemingly realistic goals put before you, meaning those of us averse to a chalk-and-black board setting (or is it a white board these days?), will find it the whole thing less arduous.

So, here I am, one week in and yes, the road ahead seems long, but in the words of the Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” Or as one Gaeilgeoir said to me last night: Is í an Gaeilge mo theanga dúchais agus ba mhaith liom bheith abalta í a labhairt go líofa.
Wish me luck, I may just need it.

Críostóir

(For more information on one-to-one Irish classes, contact Colin Madden on 07515170741)

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