These are a handful of pics of food from Barcelona. Well, that first shot is actually behind a closed window of a dry-goods shop and the towels which were decoratively displayed in such a delectable fashion. Most are from the market. What the Borough market in London does for cheese, the St. Joseph La Boqueria market in Barcelona does for fish…
Yes, there is a lot more available for purchase as seen by the bounty of fruits and vegetables and meat, but it is the quantity and quality of fish which astound. We talked about renting an apartment so we could just shop at the market and prepare our own meals and I think that next time, that simply must be done. Especially since I was unable to eat at most of the finer restaurants I was hoping to… Not that what I ate was especially bad (okay, the Kangaroo Carpaccio ranks up there with being incredibly regrettable), but I know I missed some truly stellar establishments by sufficing with what was convenient.
It is slightly sad for me that my time in London was so rushed; there are always so many more places I would like to visit than I had time for, but I applaud myself that I got to the three major art museums: The Victoria and Albert, the Tate Modern, and The National Gallery (oh yeah, and the County Hall Gallery for the Dalí exhibit, but I already mentioned that).
The Victoria and Albert Museum was my first serious expedition as it was terribly close to my hotel. It was exciting to see renovation and expansion, but damnably annoying that its jewelry collection was put away while a stunning new display is being prepared (and will be open in May, just a few weeks away!). It was not hard then to suffice through the stunning hall of silversmithing; rows and rows of tankards and teapots, samovars and spoons, or plates to pomanders. It made me wistful for my days of calloused hands and the methodical percussion of the hammers striking that softened, matte lunar metal.
I really do. It has been almost two weeks since I overloaded my senses with what was probably more than ten thousand different art projects. Many of those visuals still haunt me and yet last evening, my dreams were filled with yet even more creations that I do not believe I have ever seen in real life. What is slightly annoying is that the dream involved the interaction with an artist (a young, handsome man) who was creating a sculptural painting of some sort that could only be viewed from one particular perspective. The image of the creation in my dream has stuck with me all day long and has made me wonder about perspective art.
