Barcelona March 2015 Last 3rd.,

The Big Heads 
Mercury Shoes
The Monster Flea
Now I know 

THE BIG HEADS 

A Few Big Heads

For weeks Marta and I had talked about going to the Big Head Museum.  It's proper name is,   La Casa dels Entremesos,  but in true Darryl fashion I just renamed it. I tend to do that because if it's more than a one syllable word, I just make up my own. This is particularly problematic when I'm giving directions. Unless you are carrying the Dictionary of Darrylisms, you are doomed to wander the labyrinth of my mono syllable world.  

There is a tradition of making giant figures to represent important people. These figures then took a prominent  place in parades, fiestas and any event that meant a day off. The tradition goes back to the days of reverence, but over time the giants have also been created to depict fun and fantasy. It's even gotten to the point where giant wee ones have been made for children to carry.  That's how the giants get around. Someone is inside this elaborate structure parading and often times dancing them, as part of the event.   It's fun to watch a giant that measures every bit of 4 meters (12 feet) dancing with another giant in a plaza here in Barcelona. 

Not far from my flat is the museum where the giants are housed. The museum is open for free on Sunday's from 10:00 until 14:00, but for some reason that time frame was impossible for  Marta's and my schedules . That was true until the day when it became our stated mission to make that a Sunday walk.  It was a nice day for a walk and we were on a mission to see the Big Heads, as I so dubbed the museum. When we got there we were told that a number of the giants were out parading around, so we had to be content with the remaining figures. I was just happy to have gotten there so I could put on my codpiece and strut around like Georgie Bush Junior, proclaiming "Mission Accomplished".  

Mr. Huff & Puff's Problem

Marta wandered around the museum while I strutted, looking at the remaining representatives of this truly Catalunyian tradition.  It's a small museum, so it didn't take to long to view the variety of remaining figures. I wanted to take a picture of one of the children's wee one giants, but there was one of those velvet museum ropes in front of it.  Marta asked the man at the desk if we could move it for a picture. After a great huff and a puff about it not being normal and even a greater huff and puff when he got up to move the rope 1 meter (3 feet) to the left and eventually  back again. I offered my codpiece,  if he was worried about  exploding his manhood. He didn't speak English and there was no way Marta was translating that comment. I took the picture and stepped back. Just in case. 

We were ushered out at precisely at closing time by Mr Huff & Puff. As we stood in the little plaza in front of the museum, the giants began to return from their romp in the city. Now we not only got to see all the missing giants, but also how they are operated. It was a complete tour at that point. 

MERCURY SHOES

In a very short period of time Marta's life went from your normal everyday sort of life to a carnival ride that had lost its brakes. The point where her carnie ride from hell hit the wall was the week coming into Palm Sunday. 

That week her father passed away and left a trail of loose ends that would consume hours of time she didn't have. That left the preparations for Palm Sunday up to the very last hour that someone else had not claimed. 

It is the tradition here for the God Parent to get the palms and gifts for their God Children and give them to them as part of the Palm Sunday goings on. Having two God Children of her own and being asked to buy for another, Marta,  was now going to do some serious power shopping on the Buy Stuff Saturday.    I wasn't doing anything that Saturday, so I signed up for her bag lady run. Think of it as a 5K run with shopping bags. There is usually a little street fair in a plaza near my house, so we started there. The idea was to find things that were unique, and not expensive.  Zip, zip, done. One God Daughter done. Before leaving the plaza, we stopped at the Mercury Shoe Store. 

We moved through the Born with the wings of Mercury at our feet. A two store strikeout and then we hit the mother load of Unique Toy Land. I stood in the corner playing with the little cars while Marta pin balled around the store. Ding, ding, game over!! Second God Daughter done. One more to go. 

Note to self:   Don't start flapping those Mercury wings until you are out of the store, or at least until you open the door. Marta scraped me off the door and away we went. Now we were on our way to the Rambla. A main tourist destination of Barcelona. On the Rambla you can get whatever you want and be fleeced too.  It also just happens to be the place where a number of small flower vendors are located. 

The plan was to locate the gift for Virginia on the way. Yes, Marta's sister Virginia,  is also her God

Just a cute cat picture

Daughter.  I think in this case you just reverse the words,  as so many languages do,  compared to English and you end up with Virginia being God's Daughter and Marta simply being the provider of the gifts God didn't have time to buy.   We had no sooner gotten up to light speed and we came across the right store for Virginia. It was the store where cat lovers go to get things they never thought about buying but simply must have once they've seen them. I didn't have any cars to play with and cat toys really aren't my style, so I just looked at things that made no sense to me while Marta found the "just right" things.  I asked her if she had to get God's ok before she checked out. Wrong smart-ass thing to say. She kick-started my wings and I went splat again. 

Note to self:  While wearing Mercury Shoes, make smart-ass comments outside. Now we were in full turbo mode to the Rambla. The customary market for palms is the Rambla de Catalunya, but that area was just too far away for the two and a half minutes of rental we had left on our shoes. 

Palm Art & Gifts

I thought we were after some green leaves off a Palm tree. Ha ha silly me. I should have known that this holiday had also been turned into an industry. Palm leaves are woven into very elaborate patterns of various sizes. They look nothing like leaves. They are now woven palm art.  The smaller the palm art is, the more it costs. The price is driven by the amount of work and small ones are much harder to make.  We stopped at the first vendor and found a rotund man who Marta enjoyed talking to. She found the  "just right"  art palms,  just as the one minute warning on the shoes sounded. We turned on our heals and sped off for our final two stops. 

No industrial Christian holiday would be complete without candy. We stopped and picked up some candy Rosaries.   Not being Catholic, I had to ask just what the purpose of the Rosary was.  We bought a couple of small pastries to munch on while we sped off back to Unique Toy Land and I learned all about the Rosary. 

Palm Art & Goo Doll

On our previous stop at the toy store,  Marta had bought a doll. The clerk then writes the child's name on the front with some magic goo, that needs a few minutes to set up and dry. Now we were stopping back to pick up the goo doll. The clerk was still cleaning my goo from the door that Marta had scraped me off of. They made me stay outside with the other customers rodent dog. 

With the doll in hand and the 30 second buzzer ringing in our ears, we hit warp speed 4 and pulled into the Mercury Shoe rental shop with a split second to go.   This day was going to bring about some happy smiles on Palm Sunday due to Marta's determined power shopping and I had another day of learning about things I hadn't heard of.  

Note to self: Running a 5K with shopping bags can be fun,  given the right frame of mind. 

THE MONSTER FLEA 

On Palm Sunday there was going to be a combined flea market at the Mercat dels Encants Flea market, Barcelona's biggest flea market. On this Sunday, the Lost and Found Market,  a flea market that travels around the city, using different venues, was going to be at the Encants market. This promised to make for A flea market of biblical proportions.  

Jordi,  being a fellow junker,  had agreed to go with me to see about getting more things we didn't need. As a recovering dumpster diver I now rely on the Former Divers 12 Step Program. 

Step 1. You Don't Need It

Step 2.  At least make a list 

Step 3 thru 12. See list 

I laughed all the time I reread step one and made my list.  I had 4 things on my list. A list may take

the fun out of going to a flea market, but it can put the fun back in your day when you still have money enough for a beer and a bikini (sandwich).  

We made the 20 minute walk to the market. It was then that I relized that not having a car was also very beneficial to the recovering diver. Maybe step 3 should be, sell your car.  We entered the mass of people and spent about two hours in the crush until it was time for that beer and bikini I mentioned.  I had found nothing on my list and Jordie who had no list,  was now sporting a plastic bag full of treasures. Tools weren't on my list but I got the heebee jeebees  when I came across the only guy in this mass of vendors, selling tools that were worth buying. I caved in and bought a few. 

I walked back to my flat with only a 10€ tool fix. I also had the knowledge  that even a Monster Flea Market at dels Encants can't produce the things I want for the price I want to pay.  I'm almost done with my rehab.

NOW I KNOW

I need a work room where I can play with my tools. In retrospect, I've had a space where I could make a mess, my entire life. This flat is only the second place I've ever lived in that didn't have a work space. 

The first was a flat I shared in Stockholm years ago.  That wasn't a real problem because I was working construction, so I had a work space all day long. This time I'm not working,  so when I want to play with my tools, it means using the kitchen table.  The saving grace is that the kitchen table is very rustic, so I can only add to its character. This point was driven home when I wanted to do some little fixer upper projects on my flat. The kitchen and the table became my impromptu work shop. This simply is not a good idea given the depth of my mess making skills. 

Now I know. The next time I rent a place to live, it will have a space where I can play with my little iron friends,  with complete abandon.