Sant Antoni

This morning after checking my e-mail I decided to look at the Feel Barcelona website to see if they had promised internet. Even though I doubted they would have listed it, I wanted to be sure. Instead, to my surprise I found the reason why I thought I was staying in L'Eixample. They told me I was!

There was no mention of internet, but right up there next to the name of the apartment it said in bold letters - L'Eixample.

So I was not crazy after all.

From what I could tell on the map, L'Eixample was on the other side of the old city, up there with La Sagrada Familia (I thought I'd be passing it every day), and here I was down in the ghetto with all of these immigrants. How did this happen?

I wrote to Feel Barcelona, totally expecting to get an unsatisfactory response, but I said maybe it was an error on their website that they need to correct, because I was after all, in El Raval - a neighborhood with quite a seedy rep.

Last night I dreamed of the Barri Gotic, Ciutat Vella, the old city. Today I had nothing else planned, so I decided to go and check it out.

I looked at my subway map to see how I would get there. Instead, I decided to walk, so I could explore some of the streets of El Raval in what looks to be an older section than where I am living.

I headed from the area I live with wide streets and big open spaces into this older, more run down part with narrow streets and laundry hanging everywhere. Signs in Arabic, Pakistani and other languages were mixed in with Catalan and the population was very diverse - pretty much what I have seen here in my neighborhood but more of them it seemed. It felt like I had stepped into a different world.

I passed lots of interesting looking shops, cafes, restaurants. I passed several Arab butchers, and finally as I passed one and noticed it said "Carniceria", which means butchershop, I went in.

Why?

On the way back from Morocco on the ferry I was sitting alone in an area with a little table and four seats. A pregnant Moroccan woman asked if she could sit with me. After she finished eating a very delicious looking sandwich, I asked her if I could ask a question. I wanted to know about something in my Moroccan cookbook called oil of orange flower (aceite de flor de naranja). In Granada I had some really yummy lemonade with mint. The table of Americans sitting next to me asked the waiter what was in it. He said, "mint, lemons, sugar and orange flower oil". The Americans did not know what that was. They deconstructed it while he was there, and when he got bored with their conversation, after he left. Was it orange rind? Was it orange extract? It was what he said it was. Orange flower oil.

In Tetuan when we went to the herb shop we had a little demonstration, kind of like a tuperware demonstration. They showed us all of the things they were offering. Something for people who snore (I got it but don't know what to do with it). Saffron. Something for asthma. And then orange flower oil with jasmine. It was good for stress. I got some.

After our demonstration when we were paying for our purchases, I asked the guy about oil of orange flower. He said it was the same thing. I said, "but this has jasmine". He assured me, "my friend, trust me, you can use this".

When people say, "trust me" I become suspicious.


So I asked this woman on the ferry where I could buy it. First she told me it wasn't an oil. Okay, "essence" I said. Then matter-of-factly, she said, "in a carniceria".

I was surprised. Orange flower oil in a butchershop? Why would that be. I thanked her and that was that.

So today when I walked past the carniceria I decided to take a peek. I walked past the meat that was being cut up, all red and bloody, to a shelf that had a few items on it - not many. I was hoping no one would ask if they could help me because I was not sure if "aceite de flor de naranja" (orange flower oil) was the right name. I looked at the shelf, and there, right in front of my eyes was a bottle that said, "Aroma de Azahar". I remembered seeing "azahar" when I tried looking orange flower oil on the internet. Under that, it says, "Arome fleur d'orange". This was it.

The bottle is quite large, not like an extract bottle, and it looks quite liquidy, like water. But I am pretty sure this is the stuff.

What I am I going to do with it? I will try to make some of the deserts in my cookbook, maybe add to lemonade with mint as I try to recreate what I had in Granada and then it will sit in my cabinet until I eventually throw it away on a cleaning spree. It is one more thing for me to carry home (thus a few more articles of clothing will be left behind).

I continued walking and came to the Rambla. A large pedestrian street that I read Barcelonans don't even bother to go to because it is a pickpocket haven and is only for tourists. I guess it's kind of like Fisherman's Wharf. I crossed over the Rambla which was very crowded, even though it was still kind of early, and entered the Gothic quarter.

It looked like other cities I have been to, Toledo, Granada, Seville, Avila, that had old Gothic/medieval parts. Only this Gothic quarter was filled with all kinds of shops - jewelry, clothes, shoes, smoothies, cafes, restaurants. It was one of those old towns that was thriving because of tourism and it was evident in the shops and the people. When I enter a Gothic quarter, I expect to see a cobbler making shoes, a blacksmith, a tailor, a baker, but this looked like a modern city set up within old buildings and streets.

I walked a little unsure of which way to go and eventually came across the cathedral. I wandered inside, thinking maybe I'd pick up a set of rosary beads for my mom. I didn't like the selection. The cathedral had a central area with geese. I've never seen geese in a cathedral before. The were noisy and smelly.

I entered the main part of the church, took a few pictures and left. It was like all of the other cathedrals I've been to, maybe not as impressive as many of them.

And so I wandered until I found Starbucks, where I used the restroom and had a nice cup of mint tea sitting on a comfortable chair in the big window watching people walking by. Three young people were standing in the middle of the pedestrian street trying to snag people who walked by. I am guessing to ask them to make a donation. I've read that those are often scams and sometimes covers for pickpockets. I dreaded having to walk past them.

After my tea, I walked a little more, came back to the Rambla and continued to walk towards home. It was immediately apparent when I was out of the Gothic quarter and back in the Rambla. Only this part of the Rambla was very trendy, much more than my neighborhood which is more residential.

I enjoyed my walk back. It was 2 p.m. and school was letting out. Hundreds of little immigrant children were running around, being picked up by parents, screaming, yelling and playing. It was quite the scene. I passed more ethnic restuaurants and shops and eventually was back at Mercat de Sant Antoni. The narrow streets gave way to broader tree-lined streets.

I checked my e-mail and there was a message from the supervisor of Feel Barcelona. He assured me that according to the postal codes, I am in L'Eixample. I looked again at the map. El Raval was to the west of the old city, L'Eixample was to the north. I wrote him back and told him I knew how to read a map and he really should change his website because it was false advertising.

Then I read one of the links he sent me. I guess I should have done that first. Turns out L'Eixample is quite a large area and is an extension of the city. Where Ciutat Vella/Barri Gotic and El Raval are old parts of the city going back to medieval times, L'Eixample is part of the 19th century expansion. While I am very close to El Raval, I am in fact in L'Eixample, and more specifically, Sant Antoni.

Okay, that explains it all. Now I understand why the people here look like what I've read about El Raval, but the streets don't quite fit the image. I'm in sort of a crossroads here.

And, after walking around through the tourist trap of the old city, and walking back through what is said to be one of the most diverse neighborhoods in Europe (El Raval), I'm actually very glad I ended up where I ended up. While there might not be trendy shops and cafes, there is a good Moroccan restaurant on the corner and I can buy essence of orange flower oil at the butcher shop.