As I type the sun has just set on the festival of La Mercé here in Barcelona, a 6 day festival which honors the Virgin of Mercy, patron saint of Barcelona. Back in the middle ages Barcelona asked the virgin to help them fight a plague of locusts. When she came through and delivered them from pestilence, the virgin earned herself the title of patroness of Barcelona… and one kick ass celebration in her honor. Her actual feast day is the 24th of September, but why party for just one day? This year the festival began on the 19th, the Friday before the feast day. We only sampled a few of the 600 or so special events that took place during the festival. Our favorites were the traditional celebrations that we attended: the parade of the giants, dragons and beasts, the making of the Castells, and the Correfoc.
As I type the sun has just set on the festival of La Mercé here in Barcelona, a 6 day festival which honors the Virgin of Mercy, patron saint of Barcelona. Back in the middle ages Barcelona asked the virgin to help them fight a plague of locusts. When she came through and delivered them from pestilence, the virgin earned herself the title of patroness of Barcelona… and one kick ass celebration in her honor. Her actual feast day is the 24th of September, but why party for just one day? This year the festival began on the 19th, the Friday before the feast day. We only sampled a few of the 600 or so special events that took place during the festival. Our favorites were the traditional celebrations that we attended: the parade of the giants, dragons and beasts, the making of the Castells, and the Correfoc.
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As an American who was a young-ish adult in 2001 when the World Trade Center was attacked, the date 9/11 is tightly linked with memories of the twin towers falling. I remember turning on the news in the morning to see one tower smoking and listening to Katy Couric speculate on what could have caused the crash, and I remember watching on live TV as a plane flew into the second tower. The severity of what had happened and what that second crash meant would have been lost on me had it not been for the faintly-suppressed panic and shock I could hear in the newscaster’s voice. It is that moment that is most crystalized for me, that point in time that comes to mind when I think of the events of that day: not the image of the plane flying into the building that will be replayed over and over again, but the fear I heard in an anchor woman’s voice seconds after the plane hit, and the dread in my gut it elicited.
![]() Now that we have moved into our permanent home we are beginning to stock up on some basic supplies, which requires shopping, a topic worthy of at least one blog post. In Spain most of your shopping is done in small speciality stores. If you want to buy meat, you go to the carnicería; if you want bread, you go to the panadería; if you want to buy ink for your printer, go to the... store that sells printer ink. That one amazes me, but apparently Spaniards use a lot of ink, because these stores exist. (Another surprise: the quantity of electronic cigarette stores, evidently a big hit in Spain. I have indeed noticed much less smoking in 2014 than there was in 1996, the last time I lived here.) 2 weeks ago we went to Tibadabo, a mountain top near Barcelona that sports walking trails, an amusement park, and an amazing cathedral, el Tiempo Expiatorio del Sagrado Corazón. We took a tram and then a funicular to get to the top of the mountain. The views of the city from the base of the funicular are great, from the amusement park even more impressive, and from the top of the tower in the Cathedral, spectacular. Barcelona does not lack great vistas. Check out the slide show above!
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AuthorMother, wife, previous and current Spain-dweller, excited to back here again. Archives
July 2015
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