chocolatebuddha

The New York Times termed this city as avant-garde where quirky architecture, art from Dali and Picasso flourished, where fashion’s all about dressing to individuality, boutique hotels operating at unexpected junctions and of course by now you already now, innovative chocolatiers.

I was captivated by all – Gaudi‘s unbelievable work, a city full of life and vibe where its dwellers clearly portraying their immense satisfaction of this wonderful city they call home. In between laughing at Carlos Pazos‘ art at Museu d’Art Contemporani de Barcelona, strolling along the expensive stores at Passeig de Gracia, browsing in Vincon – a store that sells everything you want but don’t need for your home, watching the musical fountain at Placa d’Espanya, biking along the beach at La Barceloneta and sunning at Parc Guell, there were always stops for bites.

Here, casual dining is at its best. Step indoors into the countless tapas bars for a couple of dishes, best done standing or sitting at the bar instead of a table because you can just point to order, and then step outdoors onto the streets and lanes that seem to be silently alluring you to explore. My days in Barcelona were pretty much a blurry of this inside and outside experience.

Mini-me escargots at the seafood bar were one of the most
memorable. Unadorned and boiled in lightly salted water (I’m guessing,
perhaps it’s just the taste of fresh seawater), these little molluscan
creatures were such good fun to eat. Once you just slurped one into
the mouth, a burst of salty-sweetness-crunchiness explodes and as they
so tiny, you’ll be unsatisfied and immediately picking out the next.
So I call them the “pick ’em and slurp ’em”s.

In Barcelona, a map is not necessary. Every lane and corner has
enough attractive stores, gallery, gelateria, juice stalls, tapas bars,
cafes and everything in between. At this place called the Sagradi,
your bill will be calculated from the number of toothpicks you have on
your plate. Just grab a plate, stand by the bar – there are no seats
anyway, stroll along the array of dishes on display and finally wash it
down with Spanish cider.

So I have returned home unsatisfied and still dream often about the
bars. What can I do now? Rope in another girlfriend to Spain, and
Barcelona of course, in September! Can’t wait.

Barcelona!