July 19, 2009, afternoon

Barcelona is delightful -- the whimsical, oversized, colorfully-tiled Gaudi buildings and monuments make me feel that I am in Candyland (some of the houses just look like they have icing on top, and the pretty multicolored mosiac tiles actually look kind of yummy from far away), or Wonderland (the proportions of the windows, doors, and columns are completely off), or even Pan's Labyrinth (it would be easy to get lost in the twisting, winding garden paths of the Park Guell ... there is also something organic, maybe even sinister, about the creeping columns). 

We strolled down Pg de Gracia, and saw a couple of Gaudi houses, which are completely surreal and stand out because of their flowing, oversized proportions and white tiled exteriors. They look nothing like the surrounding houses. There are giant crosses and pineapples on the flowing roof of one of the buildings, which is at the corner of Pg de Gracia and anoher street. Little reminders of Gaudi are everywhere in the city; for example, the bases of the sinuous art nouveau lanterns along Pg de Gracia are these flowing, white-tiled stumps -- a strange contrast to the little black iron bats that crown the lanterns.   

The Gothic quarter is fabulous at night -- narrow streets, and Gothic cathedrals, and tons of cute restaurants, and the nearby waterfront.

I really loved the Park Guell, which we saw yesterday at sunset. The top of the little hill, with its white crucifixes, was the perfect place to look out over the terracotta-colored city. The main pavilion is stunning -- the ribbony benches that surround the open space have gorgeous, patterned tiles all over them. The curevd cavernous spaces around and below are magical -- as I mentioned, the gray, trunklike columns seem  organic and a bit creepy. And the little houses and cottages that fill the park almost evoke a kind of Wonderland -- they are so whimsical, and charming, and as I mentioned before, almost seem edible -- iced and candied.

The details in the park are fun too -- there is a flowing lizard fountain near the entrance.

This is my last day here -- off to see the Sagrada Familia! 

July 17, 2009, afternoon

At an outdoor cafe looking up at Barcelona's Palau Nacional de Montjuic,  which appears to be a sandstone, domed and spired palace. We are listening to trance on the radio, so Greddy is happy here. I am enjoying my coffee and cup of ice. 

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Barcelona's art museum is inside, but it is breezy and sunny, and I want to continue wandering through the city's western green spaces and gardens. We passed through the Parc Joan Miro earlier, and there was this giant, childlike obelisk-like structure, covered with multicolored tiles. Ah, Miro. 

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We will continue along this path, seeing the Pabello Mies Van der Rohe,  the Estadi Olimpic de Montjuic, and possibly the Jardins Miramar and Castell de Montjuic. I will try to take panoramic pictures of this tangerine and ochre city.

This evening, we will explore the waterfront and have dinner again in the Gothic quarter. 
  

July 16, 2009, afternoon

On the flight to Barcelona, where we will meet a friend of Alex's from high school, and then we will begin to explore the city.

We spent our last day (and night) scootering about the island, because Alex really wanted to. I was a bit lukewarm about this, because Ibiza's cliffs and countryside really aren't as beautiful as Mallorca. Further, what is the point of seeing and scootering past all of the gorgeous beaches on Ibiza, if you never stop to swim in them? That was one of my regrets.

We went in search of sunset (and gasoline) on Ibiza's northern tip, a port called Portinatix... or something like that. There was the beautiful yellow-orange sandstone again, coursing right into the ultramarine Mediterranean. On one precipice of the rock, there was a striking lighthouse -- solid and stradfast, and painted with thick black and white bands.

After the sun set, we had dinner there in the little port, and we all really thought it was fantastic. 

The ride back was wonderful -- there is little light pollution on the northern tip of the island, and I was able to see more stars, and more of the sky, than I have been able to see in a very long time. I had forgotten how many stars there really are, and how vivid the Milky Way really is.     

[bit about the last days of trance, and how I wanted to explore house, chillout, downtempo, and how the boys are stuck in music from a different decade, and that the music changed.]

July 15, 2009, afternoon

Yesterday, we ended up passing a couple of gorgeous beaches in the south of Ibiza. I was completely taken by one we stopped at, and the boys wanted to hike to a far-off, castlelike lookout structure, so I stayed behind.

I laid on my white towel and admired this beach, which was like none other I have come across: 

The water was a deep aqua, but there was this beautiful, thick, deep wine-colored seaweed closer to the shore. Because of the geography of the land, which bent sharply to the north, the waves constructively and destructively interfered with each other at various points -- so there were these crazy, narrow, wild, five-foot-tall waves right in front of where I lay (and puny little waves only twenty feet on either side). The most astonishing thing though, was to see the deep aqua-colored waves against the waves that lifted up the burgundy seaweed -- all of which was behind the pale orange sand of the beach, upon which was reflected the golden, afternoon sunlight. 

It was the same color scheme that I saw in the delicately patterned ceramic dishes that our tapas were served on, and our sangria came in, later that evening. Spanish artisians must love the natural colors of their surroundings (who wouldn't?). I see this color scheme everywhere.

The beach happened to be a nude beach. This didn't bother me, though I did feel self-conscious because I was wearing both halves of my bikini. Europeans are extremely attractive.

Europeans also treat their dogs and children the same way (at least, near the beach), allowing them to run about  naked, urinating openly on the sand or on the sides of roads. I guess it is more natural.
  
From the beach, we set off on our scooters to find a place to watch the sunset. We drove to a west-facing outdoor lounge, where we reclined on giant cushiony beds and watched the sun set over Ibiza's mountain ranges, which seemed to tumble into the water in the form of giant mountain-boulders. We were surrounded by other people returning from Ibiza's southern beaches: handsome men in dark aviator glasses and Nicole Ritchie doubles wearing flowy hippie tops, straw cowboy hats, and thin braided bands in their hair. They fanned themselves idly with Chinese paper fans, the type that unfolds revealing a pretty floral pattern in pale pink or blue. The lady DJ was playing down-tempo and chill-out, fitting beats for a lovely sunset. Oh, and the cocktails there were around sixteen Euros. I would place Ibiza's boho chic somewhere between that of Goa and Hollywood.

I have never seen so many sailboats and yachts in one area -- from above, Mallorca and Ibiza must appear to be swarming with boats of all sizes and kinds. At night when you look out over the sea, you can see the little lights that mark the sailboats' outlines, scattered about, wherever their owners chose to anchor them that night (during the day, they are anhored in the little coves where the gorgeous aqua beaches are).

Sadly, we saw a couple of prostitutes late at night. The ones we saw were black -- women of color are stuck with the shittiest jobs here too.