The towering ascent to reach Park Güell begins. Sure would be nice if there were an escalator or something to take me up there. Instant gratification really is the best kind of gratification. Oh sweet, there goes one now. Hey Barcelona, I think this could be the start of a beautiful relationship. Just don’t do anything like, say, go and rain all over me, and we should be cool…
After considerable deliberation, I finally decided to include this photo in the blog. The woman in purple jacket to the far left just couldn’t be holding an umbrella, could she? Way to fuck up the composite balance Wendy.
Listen, I’m no structural engineer, and far be it from me to tell you how to do your job Gaudí, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got enough columned support already. Why don’t you take a few of them down and put up a tetherball court or two?
Alright, I think I’ve got this terrace perfectly framed in my viewfinder. This should make for a fine photo. *Snap*. So no one thought it relevant to mention this flagrantly obscuring tree? I hate you guys.
Quick, without looking it up, what’s the difference between a terrace and a balcony? Define them as pedantically as possible and get back to me. Ready, go!
Hey look, it’s Gaudí’s house! Nice choice on the salmon-peach colored exterior. Although, I might have gone with a seafoam-lavender instead, but I guess that’s why I’m no Gaudí. Unfortunately, I never took a step inside owing to the several euro cost of admission. I’m sure I didn’t miss much anyway. It’s just hard to justify that kind of expenditure in the name of cultural erudition alone. Hey bartender, can I get another $6 bottle of Corona? Aaand here’s your $1 tip. You popped that bottle cap off with surgical precision after all.
Under the thicket and through the woods to Gaudí’s house we go! Apologies in advance if this growth does not qualify as thicket.
A pretty fine entrance to one’s home if I don’t say so myself. They really should have an escalator installed though. That poor postal worker - subjected to a lifetime of highly beneficial exercise and corresponding upturn in quality of life…
I asked this woman to become sentinel in the corner, pretend like the camera didn’t exist, and give an expression of subtle content and warmth that conveyed a latent appreciation for existence. She didn’t pull it off, but a valiant effort nonetheless. Thanks anyway lady. I’ll call if I have any other work.
Hey Barcelona, it’s my first day in your storied city. I’d love to be able to get a sense of just how intricately expansive you are. Oh, you’d rather obscure my panorama with fog and overcast? That’s cool too. Just do you bro. Hey, is that la Sagrada Família back there or just a floater in my eye?
This is fun to look at. Stare at it for a while. Come on. I dare you.
Ahh, the descent back to the city. When walking down such a steep incline, I recommend arching your back backwards 30 – 50 degrees while interlocking your hands behind your head and resting them there. Not only will it make the slope feel non-existent, it will also let the world know they’re in the presence of a seasoned veteran. Trust me.
What would a city be without tasteful street art and graffiti? Probably a place in which my mom would be happy to reside. Sorry mom.
And what would a city be without… this. Probably like some square community in the breadbasket of Delaware. Fuck you Delaware.
Perhaps one of my favorite hostels. Entrance requires an ocular scan followed by a DNA screening. Totally worth it.
Let me just stand in incoming traffic for a moment here while I capture this scene. Oops, looks like I left the lens cap on. Silly me. Let me just frame this up once aga… *honk*… hey asshole, I’m trying to document your shitty city, gimme a second… and there we g… oh hold up, wrong f stop… *hoooonk*… okay, I’ll just roll with what I got I guess.
Woah now Barcelona. What’s next, a plague of locusts? That vanishing point is so ominous school children around the world are foreshadowing inferences about what’s to come.
Did somebody call for some wet and wild fun? I’ll cover the light-hearted fountain misting, but someone really oughta bring a crocodile mile up in here if we have any serious intentions of cutting loose.
People assemble in anticipation of something or other. I can’t say for certain as this was taken several years ago.
Oh yeah, it was the fountain. People were gathering around for the fountain. Hard to say why though. I’d estimate there’s only about 6000 gallons of water circulating in stupendously symmetrical fashion at any given time. For me to get excited I need to see at least 7, maybe 8000 gallons at play.
A sagacious interloper once told me, “hit it from the front…”
“…then hit it from the back.”
Now, as a trained photographer and one who is ardently dedicated to this craft, I am not in the business of divulging trade secrets, however, I shall make an exception in the case of the preceding three photographs comprising a series. So what I did here was take a photo, point my lens further down to take another photo, before finally pointing my lens even further down for the last. Tricks of the trade kids. Take notes if you must.
Okay. I’m willing to let the dearth of water circulation slide for a moment, but only because that shit is DOPE AS FUCK. If that shit weren’t dope as fuck I’m afraid I would be protesting this locale by now.
It’s funny, looking at these photos I feel like I could watch those colored fountains perform for an interminably prolonged length. I think when I was actually there, though, a relatively nascent point was reached where I was just like, “Okay. Time to hit the dusty trail.” One can only surmise a complete lack of beer factored into this.
Yeah, so this is a fairly average looking street corner in Barcelona. I’ll fucks with it.
Before the invention of binoculars, long after this had been constructed, and everyone had forgotten just who exactly was resting atop the gargantuan column, rumors used to circulate with wildly divergent and provocative abandon about the identity of this mystery man. Of popular belief was that it was in dedication to Carthaginian general Hamilcar Barca, a man said to be a founding father of Barcelona. Another, and perhaps my favorite claim, however, was that it was famous cross-dresser RuPaul. Historians lend little credibility to these accounts as RuPaul didn’t exist yet. Some academics point out, however, that this does not de facto dismiss these accounts, as they may have been told in prophecy instead. Which is a little crazy if you think about it. I actually listened to a really good Hardcore History podcast where Dan Carlin cited validations for both sides of the argument. I’ll see if I can find it.
Here we have two of the most badass motherfuckers to ever rock matching pink polo shirts with a casual disregard you couldn’t even achieve in a hot tub leaning off of some Xanax. Something tells me these two ball harder than the '92 Dream Team. Of note also, is that this is the entrance to La Rambla – the main drag of Barcelona. It’s a fun place to be if you particularly enjoy being herded without a modicum of breathing space while people attempt to hock you their wares.
Oh hi Spanish Stan Lee. I was wondering where along la Rambla you were today.
Feelin’ those angles bruh bruh.
I’ll just have a look over here. Oh and what’s this interesting craft over yonder. Oh look, original artwork. Aaaand I’ve been pickpocketed. Thanks Barcelona.
I read this book – in English. In it, Haruki Murakami, discusses running for about a good 200 pages. Highly recommended. I’m being serious. No, seriously, I’m being serious.
News was leaked that Jack & Jones was having an undisclosed 5% off sale. As myriad people from all walks of life flocked accordingly, it soon became difficult to find a pair of sensible, none too preppy, nor too avant-garde chino shorts available in one's size. Desperate, many people tried either sizing up or down, only to eventually become resigned to the fact that they were not destined to walk home with any new threads that day. Many would return some days later down the road and find their appropriate size, only to invariably find themselves reluctantly, yet mechanically, poorly refolding the item, before restacking it in a location of erroneous origin. The thought of not being able to take advantage of the previous sale only to buy it later at a marginal increase of euro premium was just too much to take.
Rumor is, the bigger your house of worship, the easier it is for God to hear your prayers. It actually makes a lot of sense. I know this is just anecdotal, but personally, I’ve experienced that when I’ve prayed in a large, gaudy, obelisk of pain and suffering, life continued as if no one was intervening at all. So, empirically speaking, I’m not sure I can get completely behind these rumors. We better keep building these houses of worship bigger and bigger, though, just in case. You know?
This one’s fun to look at. Go ahead, give it a try!
Which angle and composition do you prefer? This is the kind of question a studied, erudite, photographer such as myself often encounters. As you can tell, it was a stalemate this go around, which is why I’ve decided to present both. Next time I won’t go so easy on you aesthetic sense. You’ve been warned.
Listen, I’m not gonna lie, I don’t really care about the overall composition if I can take a photo with a giant monkey billboard in the background. If I could go back in time I would take more. Unfortunately, this is all I got.
Is that building of Gaudí design? That’s the kind of knowledge I would have if I made an earnest attempt to learn anything ever. Nonetheless, let's pretend I didn’t just write the former admission of ignorance and we’ll start this caption over. Are you pretending? Ready? Okay. So over here we have one of Gaudí’s more famous designs in Barcelona, Casa del Triunfo. While originally designed as a house of parliament for civic congress, it has recently been converted into a museum. Pretty believable, no? Now, think about any one particular view you hold dear to your identity and ask yourself how you came to believe in that fashion.
Vroom. Vroom. Vroom.
And the weatherman said there wasn’t gonna be a cloud in the sky today. Pfft. Sure would be nice to have a job where you’re expected to be wrong all the time. You’d think that when children were asked what they would like to be when they grow up you’d hear a lot more “weathermans” because of this. Instead these idiots think they’re going to be astronauts, authors, and scientists. Good luck with that. Keep reaching for those stars idiots.
Okay, now that one I’d be willing to bet is a real deal Gaudí. You can tell by the trademark scaffolding surrounding it. Love him or hate him, you’ve gotta admire that kind of pioneering design.
Feelin’ those angles bruh bruh.
Holla at a shortie from a set up like this and the key is already in the ignition. Just slip it in to drive and seal the deal. Reverse if she looked better from afar. Put in neutral if she has potential to look sexy after a few beers. I'm out of car metaphors.
I was gonna do a clichéd joke about the acid kicking in but decided against it owing to the derivative nature of the humor. Actually, I’m lying; I was never going to do a joke like that. My intention from the start was to say I was going to, fully well knowing I never was. You see, I needed a platform in which to assemble commentary and I forgot what I was talking about a long time ago so we should both probably move onto the next photo.
Thanks for the shadow, tree. It’s just what the doctor called for.
I believe this is a hospital. As it is affiliated with religion, praying for ailments to be cured is standard practice. The success rate of treatment tends to vary from case to case. For example, every now and then the common cold will recede when a few doctors get together and pray for this. Other things, such as cancer and lesions tend to have a 0% rate of remission using even the largest gathering of praying doctors the room can physically permit. It’s too soon to draw any significant correlations yet, but one can only assume that the rooms will have to be expanded in order to allow for the presence of more praying doctors.
Who’s awesome? You’re awesome, owl. Keep up the good work owl; there may be a job for you in upper management after all.
Sorry mom, more graffiti. But hey, I think you can look past it all and take solace in the majesty of that sweet crane.
Sneakin’ up on la Sagrada Família … Damn, the cranes peeped me. Bae caught me snoopin’. And I would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for the perpetual need for construction. Still, there must be some way around the cranes’ adroit vigil. Don’t count me out just yet Sagrada Família …
Now give me sexy. Uh-huh. Now give me coy. Perfect. Now give me slightly embarrassed over a mere blip on the radar of trivial inconsequence. Beautiful! We’ve got enough for today folks. Good job everyone, see you all back here tomorrow bright and early. Get some sleep, we’ve got a big day ahead of us!
“Dat ass!”
If you require any more angles, I’d ask that you please get in contact with my agent. He should be able to direct you towards a travel agent who can book you a flight to Barcelona where you can, in fact, see it in person. I cannot guarantee no layovers, but, there has been a prodigious increase in the amount of tourism to Barcelona ever since rumors of the cutthroat sales routinely taking place at Jack & Jones have continued to conspicuously be leaked. The airlines industry has responded by offering more flights, so I don’t think it’s too far out of the question to think you’ll get a direct. Fingers crossed.
Thanks iron balls! You made framing this photo a cinch. Petition to have iron balls places everywhere. Who’s with me?
Sniff sniff. Dat’s the smell of da police! Sniff sniff. Dat’s the smell of da police.
Come on Barcelona! You totally planned for this to happen when you constructed this, didn’t you? Don’t lie to me. You at least had a pretty good hunch about it, right?
Blue skies are gonna clear up. Put on a happy face. Wait, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would blue skies need to clear up? Let me check those lyrics. Ohhhh, it’s gray skies. That makes a lot more sense. Nonetheless, I would be remiss in not standing by my suggestion to put on a happy face. The advice still stands. Try it out. Ready? Aaaaand go, be happy! Who knew it was as simple as putting on a happy face? Therapists, that’s who. You see, it’s a conspiracy I tell you. The worldwide illuminati confederation of therapists has been conspiring to deter people from putting on a happy face for years. Cats out of the bag now. And if you look out your window at this moment, you’ll see a colossal rainbow beginning its arch across the Earth. Holy shit, is that a double rainbow? Where’s my camera, imma put this shit on youtube.
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