Barcelona: The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain but definitely not in Barcelona where the weather is bloody beautiful and thanks for asking.

After a brief stopover in London to see the lads, I packed my swag for Spain. Staying mostly in Barcelona, I was determined to soak as much of the Mediterranean sun and saltwater into my bones as possible before the cold kicked in. Fortunate enough to catch the lingering tail end of summer, I earned myself a nice little brown tint on my skin and had an awesome time to boot.

In Barcelona, I quickly learned the difference between Spain and Catalonia - the northwest region of Spain, where separatist sentiments are still maintained. The Catalan people are fiercely protective of their culture, with not only their own dialect but traditions and practices. Much of this is largely derived from the Spanish, with a smattering of Portuguese and French for good measure. I don´t advise visitors to point out these sometimes obvious similarities. For example, ordering a creme Catalan and remarking that it is no different to a French creme brulee will cause an outrage, as it looks NOTHING like a creme brulee and ANYWAY the creme Catalan came FIRST and what would you know stupidé tourista etc...

What else? The jamon (cured ham) here is incredible. Sliced so thinly, as soon as it touches your tongue, it evaporates into a salty perfume. In fact, all the food here is plentiful, fresh and delicious. So much so, that I'm growing a portly belly that is significant enough now to warrant his own name - 'Little Sam.'

I was struck by the large South American population within Barcelona. This significant, and growing, number of South Americans moving to Spain has created a tension with the locals. I first noticed this community as I used internet around Barcelona, where the internet cafes here double as phone centres. More often than not, they were teeming with Colombians, Argentinean and Brazilians speaking rapidly loved ones and wiring precious Euros home to their families. Spain spent 100s of years conquering the Americas, gutting precious minerals and shipping wealth home to make Europe wealthy. It would seem that more than a few of the colonials are traveling to the continent to return the favour! You only have to see how many Canadians, South African's and Australian's working for the pound in England to realise this phenomenon is not restricted to Spain...

Taking advantage of the sun, Mar and I ventured up the Costa Brava and checked out the beaches all along this beautiful strip. One of these sleepy coastal villages, Cadaques, is reknowned as the place Salvador Dali lived and called his favourite place on Earth. It´s also the place where, after inviting a friend and his wife to stay, Dali seduced the woman and ran away with her. It is said that he called over his shoulder to the confused ex-husband, 'how do you like them apples!' The elopers lived here for many years. It was in this town that Dali was also inspired to do much of his painting and was visited regularly by the other surrealist luminaries. Similarly, I was inspired to reach new levels of gluttony and sloth by gorging myself on the local paella and Catalonian wines before falling asleep by crystal Mediterranean waters. I haven't relaxed as much as I did in Barcelona for some time.

My sympathies go to the Catalan people. Despite ardently maintaining their culture through the ages under the shadow of the Spanish flag, it would appear that Catalonia will never be recognised as a republic. Not only does it drive much of Spain´s wealth through the agricultural and tourism industries for Spain to let it go without a fight, but I the people are too chilled out to stage a revolt. It´s hard to organise an overthrow of government in a community where it is common to have beers for breakfast and snooze in the middle of the day. If I could give a few words of advice in solidarity and gratitude for the hospitality that has been shown me while I've been here, it would be thus:

You must get yourself a tougher national mascot than a donkey.

Think about it, Spain has the iconic bull as their national emblem - Catalonia has a donkey. What do donkeys do anyway? What defences do they have against predators? Nothing. A bull would gore a donkey to death in 5 seconds if they ever were to fight. Moreover, I´d feel a bit silly if I was charging into battle with a donkey as my guiding beacon. I'm sure others share these sentiments. When I put this to my Catalan friends, they protested that the red and yellow Catalan flag represents their other icon of St George and the Dragon. Dragons are cool, breath fire and can eat anybody, so thats a way better option.

A special mention and lotsa love goes out to Erin and Mar, my Catalan benefactors. Instead of sending me running down the street under a hail of Spanish invectives and crockery, they were perfect hosts. Petonets!

Adejo Barcelona, and now up north. With the lack of daylight, my brother Tom has gone a little loopy while studying in the remote town of Pitea, Sweden. He has feverishly told me of his plans to scoot over to the north pole and rob Santa Claus´ house while he's away delivering presents on Christmas Day. Poor, crazy kid. Any fool knows that Santa has an advanced laser system protecting his headquarters. And that Mrs Claus sits by the front door, ready, with a shotgun. Next post will be from Pitea!

-sammyd

Catalonia, I done ya. Photo time!


The Costa Brava, which is the coastline along the north east of Spain and at the foot of the Pyrenees, has dozens of towns which are nestled in coves like the one shown here. Port Lligat was spectacular. Judging from the ubiquitously spoken Catalan, it's still a reasonably well guarded local secret.


Here is my boy, Dali, kicking it fuh R-E-A-L in Cadaques. Just as we snapped this photo, he was doing this mad freeze - completely still. I dragged him out for a drink, but he just stood there and didn't touch a drop. I never understood the surrealists anyway..


Rolling her eyes, a local told me that the Fontana Magica in Barcelona is rated amongst the top ten kitsch tourist things to do in Europe. It is a fountain that coordinates its jets to various soundtracks that are played over the nearby loudspeaker. Not only do Ravel and Beethoven have their symphonies complemented by an amazing display of aqueous drama, but Freddy Mercury's lesser known Olympics-inspired track 'Barcelona' also gets a working over. It might be kitsch, but it was so beautiful, I blubbed like a little girl.


I took this photo at Park Guell, the famous park designed by the resident crackpot Antonio Gaudi. The park is adjacent to the Gracia precinct, which is home to many rundown buildings that are used by squatters. In response to a recent purge by the government to empty unused buildings of squatters, these residents articulated their sentiments ('Occupy and resist!') on the rooftop..


It's serious business relaxing in Barcelona. In a place where it is not only accepted, but encouraged, to drink a beer at breakfast, you have to scope out and get in quick for the best place to lazily spend the rest of the day. This woman, enamoured of her chair in the sun, has clearly made a stuffed model of herself to mind her spot while she ducks out for some more vino...


Too my very great amusement, I had the fortune of being in town during the biggest Catalan festival of the year. Celebrating Catalonia's traditions and culture, the good citizens of Barcelona congregated in these large squares to perform their traditional dance - The Sardanas. And what a dance it is. If you can imagine these folk hopping from one foot to the other like a mountain bear on a hot skillet, you've got more than enough of an idea of the skill involved here. When pressed on the issue, my Catalan companions agreed that it is amongst the silliest dances in the world. At the climax of the dance, the band ups the tempo and our proud shimmiers start a hopping frenzy. This, apparently, is the most difficult part as 'their arms get tired.' My body wracked with laughter, I had to be escorted from the scene.


Looks like the perfect way to relax? It gets better. Slightly to the left of this photo is the chiringuito - or beach bar. These mini bars will, for a small fee, wake you up every so often to offer you another slug of sangria. Great Buddha says that profound tranquility is found with the quietening of the mind and focus of the spirit. Wrong! It's found here, snoring loudly, on the Mediterranean beach of Calella.


Churros - my secret shame, my private joy.

I developed an unhealthy addiction to these donut like delicacies, which, are traditionally eaten at breakfast. At breakfast! The donuts are served in a strip that maximises the amount of fat that is retained. And as if they weren't fatty enough, are served with a cup of cocoa so thick, you can stand an upright teaspoon in it when it cools. This volume and strength of cocoa (upwards of 80% pure cocoa mass) packs a caffeine kick strong enough to, not only start your heart again after eating the artery-hardening donuts, but could power a bull to feverishly rampage all the way from Seville to Valencia. Yeeha!