SPIKES ON THE WHIP

Somewhere between the Spanish Border and Narbonne we started talking about torture devices. Teddy started describing what a Cat O' Nine Tails was and I remembered it as the whip they whipped Jesus with in The Passion of The Christ. Teddy had never seen The Passion, but she knew about the spikes on the whip that ripped Christ's flesh out. Teddy should see The Passion-- the Cat O' Nine Tails scene is great.


I WARNED TEDDY before we left for Barcelona: "Spain is a lawless, crazy place."

The guardian angel Karin rented Teddy a car out of Carcassonne for some days off to explore. After much deliberation Teddy finally made a move: let's go to Barcelona- it's only 300 KM away and it isn't the south of France.

The drive out was smooth enough in the beginning, hold a couple toll-booth freakouts and some road rage. The A-61 is a very nice highway. As soon as you get closer to Spain you get a feeling that maybe people drive crazy here. It is a lawless, crazy place after all.

We had a night and a day. The plan was to party the night away on arrival, stay in a hostel, then wake up and tour the shit out of Barcelona the next day. On the road home we would camp in the Pyrenees, then return the car early in Carcassonne Thursday morning. Things would NOT go as planned.

If the one-way, up-and-down hilly-ness of San Fransisco was chopped into little pieces then mashed together without any street signs you might get a map of Barcelona. Chaos. People don't just park in Barcelona, they double park. They put on their emergency lights and leave their car for the day- making a two lane death trap one-way Kamikaze mission. The motorcyclists all have death wishes, and the locals aren't afraid to slow down and give you a piece of their mind in mind-boggling, lispy Spanish. I was armed with three different maps of the city and we still got incredibly lost. We drove by the Olympic park, up through the Center and next to three different parks we didn't want to be in. Once we ended up on the highway right back out of town. At one park we asked a man how to get to our hostel. I pointed on the map and kindly asked him for directions in my best restaurant Spanish. His response, word for word: "People don't usually go from here to there."

Defeated and thirsty for beer, we put the car in a garage and walked to the hostel, which turned out to be at the top of a very steep mountain a mile upwards and away from any form of public transportation. The hostel was a very cool place. If the Disney channel sponsored an after-school hangout zone for Christian skateboarders it would look like our hostel. Then we got a well-deserved beer and some TAPAS. After officially moving into the Hostel (our first of many trips from the top of the mountain to the parking garage at its base), we took the metro to the Sagrada Familia cathedral designed by Spanish nutcase architect Gaudi.

The best description I heard of the Sagrada Familia was 'mutant church'. At first glance it looks like the aliens of the movie Aliens put their goo all over a big catholic church and set up camp. But as you look closer you notice it's all methodically planned out-- with saints carved in into the walls and colorful bowls of fruit mosaicked to life atop the high towers. We had a dinner of paella and sangria under the creepy steeples. Teddy looked ravishing in a navy tube-top and high-wasted black trousers. I looked as homeless as ever in my one cotton shirt (that doubles as my towel on the road) and my gray nylon pants. After dinner we hit the clubs. Bigtime.

We stumbled into our eight person dorm room after drinking three one-Euro beers from the vending machine downstairs. Three one-Euro beers from the vending machine downstairs. Three one-Euro beers from the vending machine downstairs. Sleep.

Up at nine. Coffee on the way to the metro. Metro is surprisingly clean, organized and futuristic. Opposite of streets. VERY HOT OUTSIDE. Wanted to stay underground. Got above ground at Casa Mila-- a classic Gaudi aparment complex. Up the elevator. Roof covered in modernist sculpture. Who wouldn't want an erect, spiky penis on their roof?

Exit through the gift shop out onto street. Walk by Casa Batllo. Continue to the center city. Walk down Las Ramblas- finish at Christopher Columbus pillar thingy. Hungry. Walk through the Gothic Quarter. Find small, dark, leopard printed restaurant. 9 euro menu. Gazpacho, whole baked fish, coffee. Delicious. Re-energized. Walk North through Gothic Quarter. Back at center. Take metro waaaay north to Park Guell, another Gaudi monument of silliness. Park mesmerizing-- walk around speechless with thousands of other jaw-dropped tourists for an hour and a half. Come to the realization that Gaudi isn't just the Spanish Dr. Seuss of architecture.

Back to the hostel up the mountain. Check out. Drag bags down mountain to the car. We've lost our ticket. Negotiate price with angry Spanish man. Exit. Buy gifts for host family.

Did we do Barcelona in one day? I think I can say yes.

As soon as we made our way out onto the streets from our triumphant day in Barcelona we were going the wrong way. Eventually we were lost down the road. We circled around the highway like vultures to roadkill. Three maps prove fruitless. Eventually we make it onto highway. Connect to other highway.

Five hours in the car.

We were doing so well. Then we both crack. I started making snide comments about Teddy's driving and she called me some choice names. Last 10 km in silence. Finally back to the house. Food. A bottle of wine. Company. Thank god. Watched the rest of Michael Clayton alone. Amazing movie. Amazing trip. Barcelona is a crazy, lawless place. Feelings unhurt.

ALONE

Heading East tomorrow.