"Barcelona lies on the Mediterranean Sea
between the rivers Beso`s and Llabrigat.
As of 2006, Barcelona had an estimated
population of 1,605,602."
between the rivers Beso`s and Llabrigat.
As of 2006, Barcelona had an estimated
population of 1,605,602."
The site is loaded with stunning pictures of such magnificent tourist attractions as the
Sagrada Familia Cathedral,
National Palace,
Plaza de Toros Monumental,
Monastery of Montserrat,
and many more.
Sagrada Familia Cathedral,
National Palace,
Plaza de Toros Monumental,
Monastery of Montserrat,
and many more.
Ah, the romance of it all. Those of us raised on Hemingway's novels are drawn to pictures of bullfighters in action, stunning bucolic scenes, Spanish Civil War battle-sites, and related memorabilia. On the first site I visited, I was lured by advertisements for no fewer than ten fat and "informative" guidebooks ranging in price from $15.00 to $25.00. Every sort of housing is promised -- from luxury hotels to modest, yet "clean and convenient" rooms. The photos advertising Barcelona and its immediate environs are exotic and romantic, beautiful and compelling.
Of course, pictures can't tell the entire story. You've really gotta cut loose from the familiar, toss yourself bravely onto the waves of adventure. My experience with such ventures has taught me you nearly always get something more than you expect. And sometimes, that additional experience -- that something more -- can be really exciting.
For instance, my lovely granddaughter and her equally lovely new husband are 23 years old. They're bright and courageous, filled with a sense of life's good promise, generous and open to new experiences, and eager to serve in some useful capacity.
In fact, they're currently serving in the Peace Corps in Romania. They teach English as a Second Language to elementary and middle-school students. Tiny, beguiling Marisa and her students have produced several issues of a clever English-Romanian newspaper. Mat will soon produce his first English-Language play. He also plays murderous soccer with the younger male members of his faculty. He's smart, wirey, and tough.
Everybody in the small town where they live and work has been wonderful to my grand-kids. They have been provided a rent-free, fully-furnished, and colorful one-bedroom apartment in a brand new building. The Police Chief lives in the apartment next to them. Marisa teaches across town from where Mat teaches. When the aging officer first saw tiny Marisa, he vowed:
Bless his heart! I can hardly wait to do something nice for his granddaughter.
And he did ferry her for awhile, until Marisa decided -- with his blessing -- to sample public transportation. While it develops that the Chief is a truly nice man, Marisa feels the need to make her own way. Still, the Chief watches closely, and he stands ready when he feels help is needed.
For some time now, I've been thinking: No doubt the Chief has grandchildren of his own!
And while the excitement has died down over the past several months, townspeople still notice the newcomers and greet them with delight. Their students act as if they feel lucky to have them as teachers. Teaching school anyplace is truly a grind. But Mat and Marisa work hard and are enjoying their schools, their students, and life in Romania.
They're adjusting well, and are already approaching a wonderful fluency with Romanian.
Economic circumstances in their part of Romania are such that school is often closed a week or ten days at a time -- unpaid vacation days. So Marisa and Mat have had many opportunities to travel about the beautiful countryside, visiting the 25-30 teammates with whom they originally trained . Their meager Peace Corps stipend is somewhat more -- and more frequent -- than what their Romanian faculty members make. (Plus their soft-touch Grampa sends them money now and then, especially when school closings provide unexpected opportunities to travel.)
As a result, the kids've traveled quite a bit already around Europe. When I fly over this coming spring, we'll visit Rome and other places Marisa visited in Italy when she spent a semester abroad there during her senior year in college.
We Americans are so naive. Or is it just some Americans -- chiefly aging Americans -- like me. Sometimes things happen that surprise and shock the hell out of me.
For instance, this past weekend, the kids visited Barcelona -- a really beautiful Spanish city. They've only been married about a year. Every new place extends their honeymoon and fills them with wonder and delight.
Last Saturday, they visited a wonderful site, high over the Mediterranean Sea on the outskirts of Barcelona. Part of the challenge and fun of the trip was that they had to climb this very long, zig-zag combination of stair-steps and pathways. At certain dangerous points, high stone walls protected them from plunging off the cliffs onto the rocky landscape below.
At the top, the view was spectacular. And for the better part of an hour, they enjoyed mingling with other tourists, pointing out and discussing especially beautiful aspects of the view and carrying on impromptu conversations with these friendly strangers from all over the world.
After about an hour, Mat --The Designated Keeper of the Sacred Travel Guide -- reminded Marisa they had planned to visit some other interesting sites. So the kids left ahead of the others and began their solitary climb down to the parking lot.
About halfway down, they paused to rest.
At that point, two big, dirty and mean-looking men emerged from behind a wall. One threw Mat down onto the steps, placed a foot on his chest and stuck a large knife near his throat. Mat's about 5'9" and 155 pounds. The other guy slung 90-pound Marisa tightly beneath one burly arm, and placed the blade of his knife at her throat. Be clear: this really happened.
These thugs were proficient enough with English to utter three heavily-accented words:
camera!
Of course, pictures can't tell the entire story. You've really gotta cut loose from the familiar, toss yourself bravely onto the waves of adventure. My experience with such ventures has taught me you nearly always get something more than you expect. And sometimes, that additional experience -- that something more -- can be really exciting.
For instance, my lovely granddaughter and her equally lovely new husband are 23 years old. They're bright and courageous, filled with a sense of life's good promise, generous and open to new experiences, and eager to serve in some useful capacity.
In fact, they're currently serving in the Peace Corps in Romania. They teach English as a Second Language to elementary and middle-school students. Tiny, beguiling Marisa and her students have produced several issues of a clever English-Romanian newspaper. Mat will soon produce his first English-Language play. He also plays murderous soccer with the younger male members of his faculty. He's smart, wirey, and tough.
Everybody in the small town where they live and work has been wonderful to my grand-kids. They have been provided a rent-free, fully-furnished, and colorful one-bedroom apartment in a brand new building. The Police Chief lives in the apartment next to them. Marisa teaches across town from where Mat teaches. When the aging officer first saw tiny Marisa, he vowed:
"I, the Chief of Police here, will personally drive
you back and forth to your school. Winter here is cruel."
you back and forth to your school. Winter here is cruel."
Bless his heart! I can hardly wait to do something nice for his granddaughter.
And he did ferry her for awhile, until Marisa decided -- with his blessing -- to sample public transportation. While it develops that the Chief is a truly nice man, Marisa feels the need to make her own way. Still, the Chief watches closely, and he stands ready when he feels help is needed.
For some time now, I've been thinking: No doubt the Chief has grandchildren of his own!
And while the excitement has died down over the past several months, townspeople still notice the newcomers and greet them with delight. Their students act as if they feel lucky to have them as teachers. Teaching school anyplace is truly a grind. But Mat and Marisa work hard and are enjoying their schools, their students, and life in Romania.
They're adjusting well, and are already approaching a wonderful fluency with Romanian.
Economic circumstances in their part of Romania are such that school is often closed a week or ten days at a time -- unpaid vacation days. So Marisa and Mat have had many opportunities to travel about the beautiful countryside, visiting the 25-30 teammates with whom they originally trained . Their meager Peace Corps stipend is somewhat more -- and more frequent -- than what their Romanian faculty members make. (Plus their soft-touch Grampa sends them money now and then, especially when school closings provide unexpected opportunities to travel.)
As a result, the kids've traveled quite a bit already around Europe. When I fly over this coming spring, we'll visit Rome and other places Marisa visited in Italy when she spent a semester abroad there during her senior year in college.
We Americans are so naive. Or is it just some Americans -- chiefly aging Americans -- like me. Sometimes things happen that surprise and shock the hell out of me.
For instance, this past weekend, the kids visited Barcelona -- a really beautiful Spanish city. They've only been married about a year. Every new place extends their honeymoon and fills them with wonder and delight.
Last Saturday, they visited a wonderful site, high over the Mediterranean Sea on the outskirts of Barcelona. Part of the challenge and fun of the trip was that they had to climb this very long, zig-zag combination of stair-steps and pathways. At certain dangerous points, high stone walls protected them from plunging off the cliffs onto the rocky landscape below.
At the top, the view was spectacular. And for the better part of an hour, they enjoyed mingling with other tourists, pointing out and discussing especially beautiful aspects of the view and carrying on impromptu conversations with these friendly strangers from all over the world.
After about an hour, Mat --The Designated Keeper of the Sacred Travel Guide -- reminded Marisa they had planned to visit some other interesting sites. So the kids left ahead of the others and began their solitary climb down to the parking lot.
About halfway down, they paused to rest.
At that point, two big, dirty and mean-looking men emerged from behind a wall. One threw Mat down onto the steps, placed a foot on his chest and stuck a large knife near his throat. Mat's about 5'9" and 155 pounds. The other guy slung 90-pound Marisa tightly beneath one burly arm, and placed the blade of his knife at her throat. Be clear: this really happened.
These thugs were proficient enough with English to utter three heavily-accented words:
camera!
shoes!
money!
money!
These were considerate men, though. When they realized Marisa's shoes were tiny, and that she had no socks, they gave her shoes back to her. But they kept Mat's Adidas. While I am not one to complain, it appears to me that terrorizing and robbing defenseless young tourists ought to be an equal opportunity enterprise. ALL must be treated ALIKE. No exceptions, please.
This is true, especially when such tourists are young, innocent, and impressionable. What was Mat to think? Bullying and robbing defenseless kids is one thing. Gratuitous discrimination is quite another. Still, I suppose I'm just an aging-American, nineteen-sixties-throwback kinda guy. True: I should be gratified my grandchildren weren't seriously hurt.
When the kids got to the bottom of the climb, the police arrived -- just in the nick of time. They took Mat and Marisa to a police station where they went through a catalog of mug-shots and found their assailants almost immediately.
The detective in charge of their case took their statements and reassured them justice would be done -- though no promises of restitution were made. This detective was considerate also. He arranged for a police car -- with blaring siren -- to deliver the kids to the airport just in time for them to catch their plane to their home in Romania. If you can't serve and protect 'em, get 'em the hell outa town!
That was last Saturday. No word since from the Barcelona police. The Peace Corps crisis manager was kind and supportive, however.
For their part, the kids were philosophical about the event. They were more concerned that their family and friends would be upset than anything else. As we spoke on Skype four days after the event, I could see that they weren't hurt. Expensive cameras, Adidas, and cash can be replaced. We are not yet sure their insurance will cover replacement items.
But never-mind! Grampa doesn't much care about the financial losses. Of course the important consideration is that the kids suffered no physical injuries.
But trust and innocence are quite another matter. We'll have to see how much traveling they do during the rest of their Peace Corps experience. We'll soon see if their trip to Barcelona has broadened or narrowed Mat and Marisa. I hope for the former. But I fear the latter may be the result of this incident.
Of course I view the episode through the eyes of a loving grandfather: still, when the best and kindest of one culture encounters the worst and cruelest of another culture, who can be certain of the outcome?
One more thing! I guess I'm a cynic. I suspect collusion. I imagine undetecting detectives winking an eye at wanna-be assailants and reassuring them: "You don't hurt anybody, you can take what you wish." Along with: "I get my cut!"
I say this not because I'm entirely paranoid. I say this because when I told this story to one of my friends this morning, she told me that a pair of her married friends had nearly the exact experience in Barcelona when the Olympics were there some years ago. And they knew of others who had similar experiences. Could be a pattern.
Might even be an Olympic Event.
Could be, though, that I've watched too much American television.
This is true, especially when such tourists are young, innocent, and impressionable. What was Mat to think? Bullying and robbing defenseless kids is one thing. Gratuitous discrimination is quite another. Still, I suppose I'm just an aging-American, nineteen-sixties-throwback kinda guy. True: I should be gratified my grandchildren weren't seriously hurt.
When the kids got to the bottom of the climb, the police arrived -- just in the nick of time. They took Mat and Marisa to a police station where they went through a catalog of mug-shots and found their assailants almost immediately.
The detective in charge of their case took their statements and reassured them justice would be done -- though no promises of restitution were made. This detective was considerate also. He arranged for a police car -- with blaring siren -- to deliver the kids to the airport just in time for them to catch their plane to their home in Romania. If you can't serve and protect 'em, get 'em the hell outa town!
That was last Saturday. No word since from the Barcelona police. The Peace Corps crisis manager was kind and supportive, however.
For their part, the kids were philosophical about the event. They were more concerned that their family and friends would be upset than anything else. As we spoke on Skype four days after the event, I could see that they weren't hurt. Expensive cameras, Adidas, and cash can be replaced. We are not yet sure their insurance will cover replacement items.
But never-mind! Grampa doesn't much care about the financial losses. Of course the important consideration is that the kids suffered no physical injuries.
But trust and innocence are quite another matter. We'll have to see how much traveling they do during the rest of their Peace Corps experience. We'll soon see if their trip to Barcelona has broadened or narrowed Mat and Marisa. I hope for the former. But I fear the latter may be the result of this incident.
Of course I view the episode through the eyes of a loving grandfather: still, when the best and kindest of one culture encounters the worst and cruelest of another culture, who can be certain of the outcome?
One more thing! I guess I'm a cynic. I suspect collusion. I imagine undetecting detectives winking an eye at wanna-be assailants and reassuring them: "You don't hurt anybody, you can take what you wish." Along with: "I get my cut!"
I say this not because I'm entirely paranoid. I say this because when I told this story to one of my friends this morning, she told me that a pair of her married friends had nearly the exact experience in Barcelona when the Olympics were there some years ago. And they knew of others who had similar experiences. Could be a pattern.
Might even be an Olympic Event.
Could be, though, that I've watched too much American television.
NEVER MIND:
Welcome to Barcelona!
Welcome to Barcelona!
Been there and Barcelona is a beautiful city with a great deal of street life. Didn't realize crime was such a problem
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