Well, it seems that mid-August brings very rainy weather to Barcelona. It’s actually been quite nice and sunny most of the week I’ve been here. But we had a few major storms with torrential downpours and really impressive lightning shows.
I had no problems or delays with security on the way here, even though I flew out of Montreal on August 11, the day after the “liquids” scare. In fact the airport was oddly quiet…hmm. I knew they weren’t allowing liquids to be brought through security — no bottles of water, suntan lotion, the things they said on the news. But I hadn’t realized that canned/bottled drinks were not allowed even once you were in the “secure” part of the airport. But yes, in fact all the Coke machines and bottled water fridges were taped shut with “security tape” and had strange messages like this written on them:
Pour raisons de sécurité, la vente des breuvages est interdit. — For security reasons, beverages are forbidden for sale. (sic)
Inside the Maple Leaf lounge, you could still pull yourself a beer from the taps, or pour a drink of juice or alcohol from the large jugs, but the big metal fridge that contains all the canned and bottled drinks (which I suppose people often take on-board) was equally taped shut with yellow tape. Travelers were a bit nervous, quiet and subdued, which (I have to say) makes for very pleasant travel. No annoying business types / travel know-it-alls. The noisiest person in the lounge was a Swiss family (not the Robinsons, as far as I know) — the two young boys were having a ball crawling all over the furniture around me, screaming with delight the whole time. Though they were loud, they were not annoying know-it-alls — in fact they were happy because they knew “none of it”!
In Barcelona, it’s also quiet and empty, but for different reasons. There are still wodges of tourists from “away”, but not many locals, since August is the (un?)official holiday month. Lots of shops are closed for the month (except the touristy ones, which are making a killing, I suppose). So the streets and residential neighbourhoods seem relatively empty. An exception is Gràcia, where the wonderful Festa Major de Gràcia is on this week, with castellers and correfoc and such. I have to say that the most touristy areas (Las Ramblas, Parc Güell, Plaça Cataluña, the beach) seem even busier than I’ve ever seen them. I guess I normally haven’t come here in the peak of summer.
Some good news: we located Barcelona’s only (as far as I can tell, let me know if you know otherwise) brew pub! It’s called La Cervesera Artesana, just off Diagonal in Gràcia. They only had two of their own beers on tap (not the ones shown on their site) and they were good. They also have interesting other beers on tap, for example a Peach ale that was quite refreshing.
I finished reading George Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia earlier this week, so it was extra interesting yesterday to go to the Museu d’Història de Catalunya and see some special exhibits they have about the Civil War. They had a series of very moving war photos, and another special exhibit showed propaganda posters (1931-39), including some from POUM and other political/militia groups Orwell mentions (he fought for the POUM militia). I liked the one that showed a guy lazing under a tree that read (paraphrasing): “If you’re lazy (i.e. not working hard for the war effort), you’re a FASCIST!” (-; Back to Orwell — it was very interesting to read some of his prescient comments, too. The book was only written in late 1937, so the civil war still had more than a year left. He seems quite convinced that the Republicans would win (hint: they didn’t) but does feel that regardless Spain is headed for a period of “gentle fascism”. He was (partly) right, at least. His comments regarding Britain in the last paragraph of the book, too, are a bit eerie given the eventual bombings of the Second World War, and other, more recent, events.
Down here it was still the England I had known in my childhood: the railway-cuttings smothered in wild flowers, the deep meadows where the great shining horses browse and meditate, the slow-moving streams bordered by willows, the green bosoms of the elms, the larkspurs in the cottage gardens; and then the huge peaceful wilderness of outer London, the barges on the miry river, the familiar streets, the posters telling of cricket matches and Royal weddings, the men in bowler hats, the pigeons in Trafalgar Square, the red buses, the blue policemen–all sleeping the deep, deep sleep of England, from which I sometimes fear that we shall never wake till we are jerked out of it by the roar of bombs. (Orwell, Homage to Catalonia, last sentence of the book)
Today I was very sorry to hear about the death of 
No, I’m not talking about Al Gore’s