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My friend Isabel introduced me to Aire de Barcelona for the first time a month or so ago, and it was love at first sight. Aires de Barcelona is the kind of place that would never go over in New York City, partly because of real estate costs and partly because people in New York City just don’t like to get into big pools of water with people they don’t know. Aires is an Arab-style bath house, on the edge of the Born near the intersection of Carrer Princessa and Paseo Picasso. You make an appointment for a 1 ½ hour slot, during which you can get a massage or a scrub as well.
Ann and I went for a soak yesterday. After you change into your bathing suit in the immaculate locker room, you descend down an open staircase into an enormous room lighted by candles. The ancient brick walls and vaulted ceilings make the place seem as if it’s been there for centuries, but it quickly becomes obvious that everything is modern and efficient.
After showering, we slipped into the perfectly warm/hot salt pool and sat with the water grazing our chins until the aches and stress began to melt away. We moved into the eucalyptus-infused air of the steam room; unlike many damp and chilly gym steam rooms in which I’ve sat waiting and waiting for the steam to come on, the steam at Aire de Barcelona never shuts off. You get a quick, satisfying sweat, and there is a sink in the corner with one, cold water tap, and a metal bowl that you can fill and dump over your head in order to get a quick jolt and stay longer.
On the other side of the steam room is a row of three smaller pools—a super hot one flanked by a super cold, and an icy super cold one. The idea is to get hot in the hot pool and then submerge yourself in one of the cold ones. I love the way this feels, once I’ve done the cold plunge. The biggest challenge for me, given that you can’t talk above a whisper at the baths—is to take the plunge without yelping. It’s really cold. Beyond the three extreme pools is one very long bathwater temperature pool. It’s large enough to allow several people to float.
One of the things I like best about Aire de Barcelona is that it’s very uncrowded. The cap on the number of people is quite low, which means you absolutely have to reserve in advance in order to be able to go when you want to. Ann and I soaked in the late morning, moving from steam to hot to cold to bubbles to salt and back again. We showered and walked out into the noonday sun, our bodies suffused with that particular relaxation that comes only from an extended date with water.
Our plan was to wind our way through the Born, exploring the streets on our way to lunch. We made some excellent discoveries, including the well-edited mix of vintage and new home goods at Ivo & Co.
We had lunch at Vila Viniteca, a fabulous shop that sells terrific nonperishables—pasta, beans, chocolate, jams—as well as more than 300 cheeses from all over Europe, some charcuterie, and other dairy products. There are a few tables in one area of the store where you can eat a simple but fabulous lunch—we ordered tomato bread, olives, white asparagus in vinaigrette, and a plate of six cheeses We drank a couple of glasses of lovely priorat—one that I’d bought before and liked.
Vila Viniteca operates a fantastic wine shop across the street from the food store, and I can never resist picking up a bottle or two when I’m in the neighborhood. Ii bought two reasonably priced priorats, and the helpful salesperson I dealt with tempted me with two, more “modern” varieties to come back for.
After lunch we tried to get into Santa Maria del Mar, but the church was closed. So we picked up a small box of macarons at Bubo (not nearly as good as Laduree), a couple of chocolate covered figs at , and a café con leche at El Magnifico.
Although we had planned to take a walk up at the Carretera de les Aigues after our day in the Born, but by the time we got home it was nearly six. The apartment was tantalizingly quiet—the kids both had play dates—so we sunk into the couches and I promptly fell asleep. There is nothing better than an afternoon nap.
Dinner, on Ann’s last night, was at DGust Born, which features cuisine de Mercado—food from the market. Upon entering the restaurant, the hostess greets you with a glass of rose cava. Immediately on your left sits a large counter full of crushed ice and topped with all kinds of fresh seafood, much of it still moving. The menu for the day is printed on a large chalkboard that hangs over the fish counter. You study it as you sip your cava and, when you have decided what you want, you tell the woman working the fish counter. She was busy with another party when we first arrived, so I asked the hostess some questions about what things meant. She seemed uneasy. The woman fish counter woman heard us and quickly interrupted to say, “Ask me about the menu—she is the cava person, and I am the food person.” So we waited, and she was extremely helpful. Alec had a plate of his beloved navajas—razor clams, while Ann and I had perfectly fresh salads for lunch. Alec was underwhelmed by his main course of fish stew, but Ann loved her sole and my hake was fantastic.
We shared a crema catalana and a Santa Teresa of coconut, with cinnamon ice cream—both wonderful and then walked down the Passeig del Born, transformed from earlier in the day, to our car. It was nearly 1 am, and I’d have to get up at 6 to get Ann to the airport.
