Barcelona, Will You Accept this Bro?

Okay, I’ll admit it. SOMETIMES when La Belle Fille is watching The Bachelorette on Monday evening and I’m playing games on my tablet, occasionally I’ll have an inkling of what’s happening on the show. I certainly don’t watch that trash. But I can’t help it if some of that rubbish seeps into my consciousness as I’m actively trying to ignore it. I wouldn’t waste my time on such nonsense. I don’t even really know the characters – I only know that they’re all terrible.

Anyways, I noticed that the Bachelorette took her suitors to Barcelona a few weeks ago. Based on our experiences there, it definitely seems appropriate. Barcelona is such a romantic city – it would be the ideal place to fall in love. In fact, the romance of the city seemed to overwhelm at least a couple of the men who expressed their affection for Desiree by telling her those three magical words (“I just sharted.”).

By the way, is Desiree seriously considering giving her final rose to Brooks? I mean, that’s preposterous! This sales and marketing rep from Utah is nothing but a pretty face and a cool demeanor. Meanwhile, I think Drew, the digital marketing analyst from Arizona is a tad too doting and Chris, the mortgage broker from Oregon, is a good compromise albeit a bit cheesy at times [but I don’t watch this drivel, so I wouldn’t know for sure].

While this episode of the Bachelorette showed some stock footage of the famous sights of Barcelona, the actual interactions of the characters seemed to take place in more intimate settings. As a result, you couldn’t really get a taste of the city from watching the show. You really have to be there to appreciate the glory of Barca. Well, La Belle Fille and I had the good fortune to experience Barcelona a couple of weeks before the episode aired.

It was tough to get adjusted to the jet lag when we first arrived. Our daily routine usually consisted of: wake up at midday, grab some tapas (because it’s tapas or starve), choose a tourist attraction from our guidebook, get lost, arrive at the tourist attraction way later than planned, scramble to see everything before it closed, choose a restaurant based on a recommendation in the guidebook, get lost and finally settle on a random eatery out of frustration, get back to the hotel late, suffer through bouts of insomnia. Rinse, repeat.

That’s not to say we didn’t have a grand time. If you’re going to get lost in a city, it might as well be Barcelona because there’s plenty to see. Even if you wander around for a bit, chances are you’ll run into one of famous architect Antoni Gaudí’s amazing creations. Now I’m no architecture “expert.” I’m not what you call “well-versed” in the “Neo-Gothic tradition.” I’m not “cultured” in the “modernista movement”. I don’t “appreciate” the “finer things in life.” I’m not a “proponent” of “manscaping.” I don’t “use deodorant.” I don’t “close the door when I’m pooping.” You get the idea (apologies to Chris Farley). BUT, I can appreciate neat looking buildings. And this guy designed some cool structures.

You don’t even need a map to find his stuff. Just walk around until you see a crowd of gawkers – they’re likely snapping photos of a Gaudi building (folks love to take photos of famous things).

The must-see Gaudi buildings seemed to be:

Casa Batlló (AKA: House of Bones)

La Pedrera

Park Güell – an entire park that he designed in the north end of the city.

La Sagrada Família – his piece de resistance that has been under construction for over 130 years.

There were more but we were too busy trying to find some decent chorizo to explore the city any further.

Finally, we hit the beach. There’s nothing better than a city beach (except, perhaps, the ability to shoot lightning bolt out of your eyes). And the only thing better than a city beach is a European city beach. And by that I mean the rumours about European beaches are true – the ladies let ‘em hang. The following dialogue between La Belle Fille and me after we walked across the beach is a good indicator that I’m the heterosexual male in the relationship:

LBF: Phew, it’s hot. This looks like a nice spot.

Will: You said it. Boobies.

LBF: Huh?

Will: This beach is very “European” isn’t it?

LBF: What do you mean?

Will: All the toplessness and such.

LBF: What are you talking about?

Will: What am I talking about? I’m talking about the parade of mammaries scattered throughout the past 100 yards of sand. It’s a smorgasbord of boobage.

LBF: Huh?

Will: Are you kidding me? I saw no fewer than 31 bosoms during our trek across the beach (the nipple of one buxom beach bunny was obscured by a towel). And I wasn’t even trying to look.

LBF: News to me.

Will: You need your eyes checked.

LBF: You need something checked.

Barcelona travel tip: Pack a good pair of mirrored sunglasses if you plan on going to the beach. Otherwise, learn this Catalan phrase: No, jo no sóc un pervertit. (“No, I am not a pervert.”).

So we pretty much saw the highlights of Barcelona. We were swept away by its beauty, its culture, its romance. Which brings us back to The Bachelorette. On the Barcelona episode, Des read aloud a poem she wrote for one of her suitors, Chris. There was a lot of heart behind her poem, and I guess you could say that it captures a lot of the feelings that La Belle Fille and I experienced for each other while roaming the streets of Barcelona. Here is an excerpt:

——–

On top of that roof overlooking that view,

That was the moment I knew sparks grew (Blogger note: “Grew”? Really? Because, you know, sparks are often said to be “flying” [past tense: FLEW], not growing. But okay, we’ll go with ‘grew’).

Dancing in the street, the moments of bliss,

Solidify my feelings in every single kiss (Blogger note: Now we’re talking!)

As the clock ticks, timing never late

For the connections to form from each and every date

And the rose to one day grant us our fate (Blogger note: Woah! She’s switching from couplets to 3-line rhymes, bitches. Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!)

I look forward to the unknown,

Appreciate the emotion you have shown

And hopeful to see if in your heart I have found a home.

——–

She read that poem to a guy she likes. With utter sincerity. It wasn’t ironic or anything.

After seeing this on TV, I scoffed. La Belle Fille scolded me, “At least she writes something nice for him!”

I thought, “Shit girl, I could’ve churned out something better than that when I was 9. That’s right, nine! Where were you when I was 9 years of age? Give 9-year-old Will a sharpened Transformers pencil and some fullscap – zuts alors! I would’ve swept you off your bicyclette with my sick stanzas. You’d be so turned on you would’ve let me hug you (because we would’ve been 9 so that’s the only age-appropriate pseudosexual behaviour). You know I would’ve hugged the crap out of you, girl.”

I took her derision as a challenge. I wrote La Belle Fille a poem to capture how I feel about our time in Barcelona. Here it goes:

——–

We went to Barcelona to see all the sights,

But because we slept in, we were mostly up at night

The tapas was good, the sangria was great,

The paella told my stomach, that this must be fate

To sit by the hotel pool, I’m glad we had the chance,

When you showed up in a bikini, I had a funny feeling in my pants

The buildings were great, and Gaudi is the man,

I’m very, very, very, very, very much a fan

I wished it would never end, because I was with such a great gal,

She’s my one and only, she’s also my best pal

One day maybe we’ll come back and have ibérico ham,

And perhaps we’ll have time to try and ride the tram

 ——–

Bam! And that’s how it’s done.

Next up – Essex.