Barcelona update 2: previously, on Soccer...

The delay in updates can be entirely blamed on me, with the help of some sweaty Manchego cheese (or perhaps an unlucky bad mussel picked by me not Sean). I have been out of commission BIG TIME since last Tuesday night (the 11th). I haven't felt that profoundly hideous in I don't know how long. Extended remix of nausea much worse than recovering from anesthesia. Food poisoning is no joke. I mostly feel incredibly lucky that during our time in Thailand, Bolivia, Colombia, Mexico, Miami or anywhere else we've travelled I've been AOK. For this to be my first round of food hell is pretty great. Sean bit back any frustrations at losing his travel buddy, and took good care of me until I could get back up to speed.

BUT! While I didn't have the stamina or sea-legs to make the train ride into the mountains for the BBQ we had been invited to, by the time 7pm rolled around I was feeling a little antsy to go out. Awesome! We had been told that the Barcelona home soccer team, FCB, had a game that night to secure their #1 spot, and that the traditional party zone for fans was Placa Catalunya right by our flat. Awesome! After determining that the TV in our place was in fact a stage prop and only received the Blue Screen of Nothing, we headed out into the world to find a screen to watch the game. Along with 10's of thousands of other people, if not hundreds. We even saw a golden retreiver with a special dog baseball hat in BCN team stripes. After a healthy wander we settled down into a street cafe table by the Arc de Triumph (below) and watched the end of the game over some cokes and fried things. M80's, car horns, megaphones playing a 1940's big band sounding version of their fight song, kids singing along, retired ladies in team-colors afro wigs, scooters honking out the fight song with flags mounted on the back....its was wonderful. Soccer fans are of any and every demographic you can think of, and they all put their back into it.


Recharged by our rest and libations, we headed back to ground zero, Placa Catalunya, to see the party in full swing. And it was. I think the cops were mostly there to help the merchants pack up their stalls and get out without getting trampled. It was a very well behaved, positive crowd. Kids were on shoulders, everyone made way for the prams, the Grandpas weere singing along, and the teenagers were getting drunk and flirting.



After being awash in the collective huzzah for awhile, we rolled back for cocktail hour on our terrace to watch the antics roll by. It was great.


I can't wait for the world cup.