Costa Brava: Top 5 Places You Had No Idea Existed

Visiting the Costa Brava, Spain, is like an endless treasure quest. There are enough quaint resort towns, hidden beaches, spectacular mountain views, wineries and restaurants to fill hundreds of vacation itineraries. There is just so much to see!

If sightseeing is your thing, do not miss these little known places to visit in the Costa Brava. Thanks Costa Brava Maniacs for providing inspiration and insight for the list!

The Hut of Salvador Dali

Bosc de Can Ginebreda Erotic Sculpture Museum

Mont Roig – The Castle of Horrors

Monumental Trees of Catalonia

Cellers Santamaría  – Gran Recosind Winery

Have you been to any of these? Do you have stories to share?

Silence In the Library: Borrowing Books in Barcelona

Barcelona has an excellent library system. There are 36 libraries in Barcelona, which may seem like few until you actually think about the neighbourhoods and how small, in my opinion, the city is. According to the official website of the library system,  there are on average 2 volumes per inhabitant in the collection (meaning approximately 3 million books); 27 libraries out of 36 have multimedia collections (read: DVDs of movies and TV shows, CDs, videogames), and each and every library has free Wi-Fi. The whole library catalog is naturally available online. Ayuntamiento (the city government) spends 15€ per inhabitant to fund the library system: that's a lot of euros from the city budget well spent, in my opinion.

And get this: anyone is allowed to obtain a library card in Barcelona. Anyone. You live in Barcelona or elsewhere in Spain? Have it. You live in Europe? Have it. You are visiting for three days? Have it. You are here illegally? Have it, I guess, no one will ask you how long you are here for and why. To get a library card, you need a valid ID, which could be your DNI, NIE or a passport - any passport. You do not need to prove you live in Barcelona, you do not need to provide a permanent address, you do not need to explain why you want the card. I am not sure if this is due to upholding the human right to information and knowledge, or the Barcelona library system is just so all-inclusive just because, but basically, if you are here and you want to borrow books and movies, you are free to do so.

You can fill a form online to get a card or go to the nearest library directly. The card will be made on the spot for you anyway, so whichever option you prefer for whatever reason works fine. As I said, you will need to provide a valid ID with the name matching the form filled and the picture matching your face, along with a local address, but nothing will be actually mailed to that address, so it could be temporary accommodations or your friend's mailbox. So you show up at the library, ask for a card, give the librarian your ID, and they print the card out in 5-10 minutes, which you are free to use right away. With the card, you are allowed to borrow 15 books or magazines, 9 DVDs, and 6 types of other media (CDs and videogames for example), for 30 days, from any library in the system. That's 30 pieces on entertainment for a month. In Spanish, Catalan or any other language you can dig out. For free. It is truly very impressive.

You can renew each borrowed item three times, provided that it is not reserved for another library user. If you fail to renew or return the item by due date, each day you are late is marked with one penalty point per item. Once you accumulate 50 points, your card is automatically blocked for 15 days, during which you cannot use it to borrow other books, reserve a computer or use other library services. If you lose an item, you need to buy an exact replacement for it, and if you can't find one, the library will indicate the material or cost necessary to reimburse the loss. Sounds pretty fair to me! Oh, and one last thing: you don't need to present your card when returning the borrowed materials, so you can ask a friend or a relative to return them for you if for some reason you can't make a trip. Cool? Very cool.

I personally have started using my card already: I have three books and one hiking map on loan at the moment, and I'm in love with the future possibilities, considering how impressive a DVD collection in my local library (Poblenou-Manuel Arranz) looks. I'm a bit afraid to forget to return the books, but the library website helpfully tells me that I will receive an email reminder three days before the due date.

Great job, Barcelona libraries.

Infecting Europe with all the good things

Barcelona, like any big city in the world, has a fair share of places catering to any possible hobby you could have. Dance schools, gyms, tango, painting, wine pairing, opera signing, ballet, even hockey (yes, in Spain), what have you - there is tons to occupy your free time if you have it, and so many options to spend it, if you only look for the thing that interests you.

Of course, martial arts are no exception, being the highly regarded and followed sport around the world. There is a lot of variety in the world of martial arts themselves, even more than you could imagine: lots of people have heard of boxing, karate, and possibly kung fu, but there is also kick boxing and Thai boxing (Muay Thai), jiu jitsu and Brazilian jiu jitsu, capoeira, jeet kune do, wresting, MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) and many many more. And basically, if you want to try any of it, you are in luck, because in my experience every big city has at least several studios, gyms or dojo that offer martial arts training in one or a few disciplines. Yes, even for adult beginners.

Barcelona being no exception, it didn't take a lot of time to find a martial arts school just for me. I was looking for a place to continue training in Muay Thai that I started in Canada, preferably close to where I was going to be living in Barcelona - no small feat because, alas, you can't count on the gym being close to you, only on the fact that it exists somewhere. As luck would have it, I found an academy 10 minutes away from my apartment. Barcelona Martial Arts Academy had a website (!), it was close by, it looked good, and I laughed my ass off at their awesome headline, "Infectando Europa con Fuerza Técnica" (I still laugh at it, but now I love it, because I know it's true).

So in April I went there, intimidated like hell, because all I did in Toronto was fitness-oriented kickboxing. I was in good shape, could take multiple reps of abs crunches, seat-ups and body kicks, do cardio and more cardio, but technique-wise I was an absolute beginner, and I knew that. My first class was a complete failure, or so it felt like, - but it was no question if I was going to be back for more. I mean, eventually I would learn the difference between a jab and a cross and won't have to ask Natalia to show me how to do a hook, right?

Right!

BCNMA is addictive. In spring, I was coming three times a week for an hour, mostly because I had to commute from a temporary apartment I knew I was moving out of. In summer, when I came back from Canada straight into my permanent accommodations that were close to BCNMA, I started going four times a week without fail, week in week out, Monday to Thursday. At  some point I realized that it was not enough and picked up a personal trainer for Kali (a Filipino martial art that we do as part of the self-defense class) in the meantime: basically, a super-awesome friend who goes to BCNMA as well agreed to hang out and beat me up in the park or on the beach with bamboo sticks so that I could learn the basics faster.

And then, not very long ago, I was at last allowed to move up from the foundations level to what I call "everyone else level" (and what Michael calls "Combat Athlete Program " level, but I like my version better). All it means is that I no longer wear a grey T-shirt, but a blue one, and I am allowed to attend classes where beginners shouldn't go, for the sake of their egos among other things, because the stuff taught there is much harder. I am so damn proud of my blue shirt I now take my ass to the academy five times a week, doing two classes at a time on Tuesdays and Thursdays. That's the plan anyways; in reality, sometimes it turns to three classes per night, because hey, why not learn some Brazilian jiu jitsu as well?

We now have a gorgeous new space with two training areas, so now two classes can run simultaneously. We have awesome people coming in to train, mostly guys (not surprisingly), but quite a few girls too. All classes - be it Muay Thai, self-defense or BJJ - are really, really fun and educational. They are fun all thanks to the instructors, obviously, and BCNMA is a very special place, because it is run by people who make it so every single day. Michael and Natalia are the only ones teaching, and they are the owners, so there is no slacking, neither in teaching nor in being taught. I used to be intimidated by both of them, albeit for different reasons, but that feeling sort of went away, now replaced by endless respect and admiration.

If I don't literally have heart eyes (like so ), while at the academy, it does not mean I don't feel this way every single time when I'm there. Sure, there are bruises, and sweat, and hair getting in the way, and shins kicked, and insteps injured (ouch), but this is my favourite place to be in all of Barcelona. Well, maybe apart from my bed. Zzzzz.

A view of Barcelona

Here is a gorgeous shot of Barcelona taken from the Collserola mountains!

Bicing

You haven't lived unless you cycled on a Bicing bike, complete with its gloriously uncomfortable seat, while wearing a short skirt and no leggings underneath. You haven't known disappointment until the last Bicing bike was taken from the station right before your eyes. Also you haven't lived if you have never merged into carrer Aragó rush hour traffic on Bicing (or any other bicycle for that matter).

I can't think of another service that inspires so much love and so much situational hate. Bike sharing is a great initiative for any city even marginally suitable for cyclists (Paris, for instance, Toronto, Milan and many, many others). Not every bike sharing program is well-run and not every one is a success, and the Barcelona one definitely has many faults, but is still wildly popular. I have nothing to compare it to as I have never used any other system (I have my own bike in Toronto and I don't spend nearly enough time anywhere else), but I can still point out its ups and downs.

Barcelona is a fantastic city to cycle around. It has plenty of paths and cyclists-only lanes, it's a drop-dead gorgeous city in general and the weather is nice most of the time. There is nothing like pedaling down Enric Granados watching Eixample buildings swoosh by; there is nothing like stopping at a red light every five seconds on Passeig Sant Joan (weird charm of annoyance); and there is nothing like being able to just grab a bike and go.

Well... The problem with Bicing is that very often grabbing a bike and going is the problem. There are plenty of stations and plenty of bikes, and I'd go as far as to say that the ratio of bikes to users is theoretically quite balanced. The problem lies in distribution. Barcelona is a hilly city and people are lazy (that's universal), so people cycle downhill, from north to south, from the mountains to the beach, and park Bicing downtown. Not many people grab a bike down south to go back up; there are still plenty, myself included, but not nearly as many as those who go downhill only. So even though there are Bicing vans circling around redistributing bikes, every day is essentially still the same story: during rush hour, all the bikes uptown are gone in a jiffy, while downtown the problem is the lack of spaces to park them. This a geographical problem, the one I cannot criticize Bicing for; yet, I still rage when I cannot get a bike to get to my kickboxing class or make it on time to my appointment near Arc de Triomf.

Many people also complain about the quality of the bikes in circulation. Many are faulty, even more are not glitch-free, some are downright dangerous, which can be especially frustrating if there is no other bike in the station to turn to. Still, I have been relatively lucky with Bicing so far: the brakes were barely functioning only once (which I find the most dangerous obviously), a few times they made noises so loud that they startled both the pedestrians and myself; once the bike kept switching into second gear while I was attempting to ride in third.

Also, once I rode the bike number 666, and it got me to my destination safely. And that's all that matters to me, really.

This waiting for Barcelona. This pregnant pause.

Peter Murphy "Subway"
It's like there's a straight way you know, you know
I've told you before it's as thin as ice
As thin as the razor snow
Don't freeze in the snow
Don't bake in the heat
I'll be your breath
There's a place where we can meet
Use me
Don't sleep in the subway
Don't sleep in the pouring rain
By my voice in my midnight meditation
When I wake, be my heart's floatation
Come and fill, come and fill from the overflow
Come and play, come and play be like a bird
Don't sleep in the subway
I'm needing you well - I
I feel you, you're closing down yeah
Get close, talk right through me
Get close, keep tight with me
If you fall now it could be forever
I'm telling you the line is thin now
I've told you before this hate is a sin
Empty out for the overflow
Let love begin

Catalunya, un nou estat d'Europa

I'm happy to be back in Barcelona. Barcelona is not happy to be a part of Spain still, and 1.5 million people attended the La Diada manifestation yesterday.

On Barcelona

Oh, the magic of the words "Your flight to Barcelona is now confirmed."

As my arrival date draws nearer, I keep thinking about how a friend once said that I choose to leave Barcelona every time I go, no doubt in response to my usual hysteric sadness. I was hurt by this and tried explaining that no, I don't choose, the circumstances choose for me, but even if this is partially true, I realized later on that yes, yes, I do choose to leave, even if I really don't want to. The choice is mine, but my hand is forced.

I choose to leave to keep my extended stays legal (and they always are), to follow through with commitments I have in Canada and with promises I made to visit other places. New Zealand will be a good example of the latter, and I have no doubt I will hate to board my flight from Barcelona in November, even if it means going on a great adventure.

Barcelona is home. Why? I feel in place there. I feel like I both blend in and stand out in the most optimal way. Over the course of six visits (about five months spent in town in total) I made the same number of close friends as in six years in Canada. It counts for something, when I know for a fact that if I get in trouble, any kind of trouble, in Barcelona, I have a long list of people to call who could help, and a short yet very assuring list of people to call who would do everything to help me immediately. I have that in Canada too, but I live here, my family is here, we have a home here, I speak the language perfectly and I spent the last six years here. Toronto is home. So is Barcelona.

The only conclusion I can draw from all this is that I need to work harder to turn this "if I could stay" into "I don't have to go".

La Mercè 2011

Worthy of posting as a handy reminder not to leave Barcelona between Sept 21 and 24, 2012.

LA MERCÈ: La festa major de Barcelona. from Barcelona Cultura on Vimeo.

Moscow.

Haven't posted in a while, but this one is long overdue, lest I forget to be indignant about Russia. I am back from my mini-trip to Barcelona, which was organized so as to fall within my trip to Moscow, but I honestly wish I didn't have to come back here at all after two short weeks in my beloved Catalan hideout.

I could talk about many things related to the city where I lived for eighteen years and have been visiting regularly since moving. There are great things here, for sure: metro is cool and fast, churches are beautiful, art museums are top-class, there are a few truly good restaurants (and tons of mediocre ones). It's nice to visit, if you haven't been. It's nice to visit, if you have local friends. It's nice to visit, if you've got money to spare. It's nice to visit for a week and then get the heck out of here. I can't stand it anymore. I can't. I can't deal with crowds, with traffic, with rudeness and ignorance, with racism, with the attitude of entitlement with nothing to back it up, with corruption on the most basic of levels. It all feels stagnant at best and rotting at worst, and I rot right with it when I am here, mentally and physically.

I feel deeply ashamed to criticize the city I grew up in, by the way, because of the fucked up idea of patriotism that was forced into my head from an early age: you may complain all you want about Moscow, but only if you live here; if you manage to get out and move somewhere safer, more civilized, more suitable for citizens, not subjects, then nooo, who are you to say all these nasty things, you unpatriotic (son of a) bitch? This is so entrenched in people's minds that they honestly believe that they stick to this stuffy hell because they love it, love the energy of it, the constant movement, the restaurants that are open 24/7 and the people who are so interesting and so numerous - 18 million live here, after all, and they are not going anywhere, so it must be okay then, mustn't it?

I guess maybe some genuinely like Moscow, and may they live long and prosper in these dire circumstances. I am not one of them. I wish, I really wish things here changed for the better - I wish ambulances didn't get stuck in traffic, I wish people could stand and breathe normally during metro rush hour, I wish drivers stopped parking on sidewalks, I wish pavements were not crooked and collecting rainwater to turn into gigantic puddles every time it rains, I wish bribing disappeared, I wish embezzlement stopped and money was spent on things citizens here really need. I wish. I don't know how to make it happen. I can only smile and be polite, when other people are so rude, and put trash in trashcans, and patiently stand at the pedestrian crossing waiting for all the cars not to stop to let me pass.

Here's a little story about being a young woman in Moscow. A few weeks ago I was waiting for my friend to show up to go to a very late dinner in the centre of the city. At 1 am I was standing on the side of Tverskaya, which is sort of like Yonge Street in Toronto or Passeig de Gràcia (or maybe perhaps Via Laietana?) in Barcelona. I walked out of the metro one moment previously, and stopped at the intersection to wait for the friend, and it took next to nothing to get uncomfortable, because all few cars passing me would slow down and occasionally honk. You see, Tverskaya used to be (or maybe still is?) a notorious place for picking up prostitutes - the fact which I conveniently forgot, but very promptly remembered, when one car actually stopped, a driver rolled down his window and beckoned me in. All I could do was to raise my eyebrows and turn away angry, at him, at myself, and at this mentality that I mustn't be here alone at night, if I don't want to be harassed and treated like a whore. The car drove away, my friend got there about two minutes later. I was wearing knee-length shorts and a T-shirt, and had no make-up on.

Toronto, I am looking forward to being back. Barcelona, I am looking forward even more to be safe and topless on the beach (wallet optional, don't want it to get stolen). Bye-bye, Moscow.

Eyes down, soldier

Back in Canada I am indeed. (Also, Yoda.) This clearly isn't Europe anymore, for many obvious reasons, and one of them bugs me the most: men don't look at women here. Stealing glances and immediately averting one's eyes happens, but ogling and gazing, admiringly or lasciviously or otherwise, doesn't.
I'll be the first to admit that I like when men look at me. I don't find it offensive or obscene, and as long as they don't do anything intrusive or aggressive, I for the most part enjoy the attention I get. And in Spain I get a lot of it. I like it not only because it strokes my ego, but also because, to me, people who are not afraid to openly admire a beautiful woman (me in that case) clearly allow themselves to enjoy little things more and are having more day-to-day fun, and I'm happy for them.
On the other hand, I'm not happy for human contact-deprived Canadians, who are poisoned by steady pressure to be PC and are constantly scared of sexual harassment. I actually don't know if these are the main reasons why men here don't look at women, but it's in the culture for sure. (The sociologist in me has just died a little.)
Point is, I never thought that I would physically feel the absence of others looking. Right after I landed at YYZ, I could tell something was off, but only understood what it was when we stopped by a store to get some groceries. The feeling of being looked over and gazed at was gone so completely that I felt it, and I didn't like it. Again, not because of my vanity, but because, well... Why wouldn't men look? Why do they look in Barcelona, but not in Toronto?
That's sort of a rhetorical question, unfortunately.

Barcelona with kids

So, here is the set-up to the link I am about to post.

You have arrived in Barcelona. The weather's perfect, as it tends to be here; your pockets are full of cash (put it away now); the rented apartment is ready and waiting. You've got an amazing week or two ahead of you.

But.

But of course you are not here by yourself, and I don't even mean your significant other, even though he or she is here as well. No, I mean a couple of screaming little devils (or angels, depending on your perspective), toiling after you to the airport exit, tired after the flight and feeling particularly capricious at this very moment.

What's Mom and Dad to do?

Enjoy the holiday, of course, since Barcelona is a delightful place for everybody and anybody, and there is plenty of stuff to do, when you are travelling as a family unit. Here are some insights on children's Barcelona. Yup, that's the link I was talking about; it even has some pictures attached.

And, as always, you can rent an apartment in Barcelona here.