The Penis on the Beach

After a slow start yesterday, Alec went to the market to shop while I went out to replace C.C.’s scooter, which had been stolen months ago at the Barceloneta.  Elke stayed with the kids, who were happily wrapped up in their imaginary dragon game.  The scooter theft was a big deal for C.C.  She had left it parked a few meters away from where Alec and some friends were sitting to eat, and when she went back for it it was simply gone.  It was nearly impossible for her to wrap her mind around the idea that someone would just take it when it did not belong to him or her.  It makes me sad to have to explain such things to my children.

The forecast predicted that Saturday would be the nicer of the two weekend days, so we decided to go to the beach, where the scooter would come in handy—the promenade along the beachfront is great for biking and scootering, and it’s just much easier to get the scooters there than it is to get the bikes.  The forecast, by the way, is rarely correct, but it’s all we have, so we (sort of) rely on it anyway.  On our walking/scootering way to find a nice, not-too-crowded spot, we saw a person wearing an inflatable penis suit walking the beach (see photo below).  Odd, and certainly something I had never witnesses, but no one else seemed to bat an eye.  I found it to be rather remarkable actually, which is why I’m documenting it here.

The kids jumped in the water while the grownups lazed about and ate delicious, perfectly sweet cold watermelon that Alec had purchased and Elke had cut into chunks.  We swung by the FC Barca store at Camp Nou on the way home so that Elke could pick up some jerseys for her kids.  The place was MOBBED, probably because Barca had just sewn up the League championships on Wednesday (this is different from the Champions League final that will be played against Manchester United on May 28, in case you are trying to keep all of this straight).  There is nothing like a big victory to initiate a run on the sale of team regalia.

We had plans to go out with our friends Vibeke and Eirik that evening for dinner, but Elke had not slept well the night before and, given that our reservation was not until 9:30 pm, decided to stay home with the kids and turn in early.  Alec and I met Vibeke and Eirik at Restaurant Me, near the intersection of Carrer de Paris and Muntaner.  Me bills its cuisine as a blend of Vietnamese, New Orleans and Catalan cooking.  Sounds like a stretch, but it really works.  I had a green papaya salad with beef jerky, and then scallops dusted with Cajun spices and a radicchio arugula something or other on the side.  A great local white wine.  Delicious, well-executed, and satisfied my constant craving for spicy food here in Barcelona.

It was 1:30 by the time we got home, and I slept until the glorious hour of 10:30.  When I shuffled into the kitchen I found Alec sitting on a chair facing and reorganizing the refrigerator.  Have I mentioned our refrigerator?  It is very small.  As much as I admire the ability of Europeans to live with much less stuff than Americans do, to drive smaller cars and live in smaller spaces, as much as I have embraced the practice of hanging out my laundry to dry, I have not been able to love my small refrigerator.  I love the idea of buying and chilling the food I will eat for the next couple of days, but it’s not my reality.  I love keeping a big pot of soup in the refrigerator to eat all week for lunch.  I feel better when I have leftovers.  I have a thing for condiments—jams, spreads, mustards.  Alec cooks big batches of beans and rice for the kids that constitute their side dishes for days on end.  So what ends up happening is that we do a lot of shoving of various items into the fridge and quickly shutting the door before anything falls out.  Periodically Alec gets fed up and does something about it.  This morning he was doing it, and I am proud to say that at this very moment I would show anyone the inside of my refrigerator.

Alec and the kids met up with Vibeke, Eirik, and their kids to go to the Miro museum and then swimming at the pool.  Elke and I went downtown to visit La Pedrera, the apartment building Antoni Gaudi designed on the Passeig de Gracia.  I had never been.  It’s pretty spectacular, especially the roof terrace, which undulates and is punctuated by Seussian towers and nooks.

Elke leaves tomorrow morning, after having spent the past four days with me in one long conversation.  We have known each other for 20 years, since our first day of orientation at Berkeley’s College of Environmental Design, where we both studied planning.  We only lived in the same city for the first three of those 20 years, but when we see each other, or talk on the phone, we click right back in.  Somehow we have managed to maintain the connection, and I’m very grateful for it.