Archive for the ‘Michelle in Montpellier’ Category


Michelle: Transitions

June 21, 2011

I’ve been back for about three weeks now. Often times I find myself wishing I was back in Montpellier. I don’t know if it’s the thrill of the big city or the charm of France that I miss, but there’s part of me that yearns to go back. I want to go back to the country where the tops of my papers were always wrinkled because they didn’t fit into the American binder I brought. I miss being reminded during every food-related publicity that « Pour votre santé, évitez de manger trop gras, trop sucré, trop salé ». Constant discovery has been replaced by the mundane. Dare I say it, I’m even feeling a bit nostalgic for the thrill of narrowly avoiding piles of dog crap on the sidewalks. Most of all though, the French people, language, and bread me manquent beaucoup.

Although I haven’t hit the dark place described in the literature given to us by the Minnesota office, I feel a slight twinge whenever I see something that reminds me of Montpellier and excitement if I hear French (even if it is coming from my selection of Francophone music). I’m starting to scrapbook my trip now and am transcribing my blog posts onto the pages to serve as a background for the pictures. Reading my posts from the very beginning, it’s interesting to see how my view of France and really of myself has changed. One that’s particularly interesting now is Test Anxiety. I’m generally not a worry-wart; part of me thinks I might have suffered a minor psychotic breakdown going between the US and France (must be the thin air on the plane). All those doubts and worries were faced, and gladly I can say I survived without too much difficulty.

Now, I find myself scraping at any opportunity to re-immerse myself back into French culture. I’ve watched a couple French films, joined a conversation group, tried to replicate some of the meals I had over there. Yesterday, I had most likely my last Friday Night Dinner (FND) in Waukesha with the menu centering on food I had in France.

Menu: Fish Soup with Croutons, Rouille, and Gruyere – Catfish with Almonds – Grilled Vegetables with Aioli – Cheesecake

This is my last post from this blog. Thanks for reading. Au revoir!


Michelle: There’s no place like home

June 7, 2011

I arrived home last week. After 4.5 months in France and ending with 10 days in Italy, I was ready to come home. On the train back to France from Italy, we passed a cornfield and all of a sudden I got a little homesick (I guess I really am Midwestern). From Venice to Montpellier was 14 hrs by train, then I spent 9 hours in the city, and finally Montpellier to Waukesha was 17ish hours total. The nine hours in Montpellier were spent taking advantage of my last night in the city and packing. My bag was exactly 23 kilos – the limit on Air France (a large improvement from the original 35 kilos I originally had in my large suitcase – I think it was the two bottles of wine that did me in). Thanks to the lovely air traffic control grévistes in Montpellier, my first plane was late resulting in me literally running through Charles de Gaulle (which is not fun with a suitcase that doesn’t roll). On my first day in France, there was a manifestation against Ben Ali – my last day there was a strike. I ❤ France.

During the flight, I took advantage of their selection of French movies trying to hear as much French during my last moments before returning home. I’ve asked a couple French people how to translate “awkward,” as in that uncomfortable feeling that occurs in social situations when you don’t really know what to do. One girl told me (jokingly), “we don’t have a word because French people are never socially awkward.” FALSE. Les Emotifs Anonymes is 1h20 min of pure social awkwardness. The awkward turtle could have swam to the US and back during this film. That being said, it’s a really cute movie about overcoming your fears for love and chocolate. But I digress…

Being back in America is somewhat strange. It’s weird being able to understand 100% of the conversations going on (even when I don’t want to). The roads are different. Even the things that were so ordinary before are now so different. When I got home, I went to pour myself a glass of orange juice and my first thought taking the carton out of the fridge was, “this carton is huge!” Then I went to get a glass and thought the same thing. One great thing about home was taking a long shower, with a shower curtain, and not having to turn off the water during the shower. It was glorious! So far being home is absolute bliss. Don’t get me wrong, France was great; great people, great experiences, but as Dorthy says, “there is no place like home.” My family celebrated my homecoming with a big bowl of Asam Laksa. Funny how one of the things I missed most about America is Asian food.

About a week before the program ended in Montpellier, we all got an e-mail about what to expect coming home. It’s makes returning to the US seem like such a sinister experience. According to the article, even “the most empathetic [of your friends] sometimes just won’t ‘get it,’” you’ll feel “rootless” and “no longer feel attached to [your] home culture, and may have a “fragmented sense of conflicted identities.” Sounds peachy, doesn’t it? Like I said, I’m still feeling a bit of the just-got-back-and-am-seeing-people-I-haven’t-seen-in-literally-months euphoria, but if I go crashing down into the inevitable endless abyss of depression and solitude drowning in nostalgia of memories past, I’ll let you know. For now, I’ll just enjoy home, and finish up the posts I’m lacking from the end of Easter break and let you know all about Italy! Until then.


Michelle: More of Provence and Paris

June 3, 2011

Over a month later… (I told you I’d right this, I never said when)

If you have heard of the town of St. Remy, you probably associate it with its insane asylum. This is where Van Gogh was treated for one year between 1889 and 1890. It was from his bedroom window that he created Starry Night depicting the city. As a patient, he had a habit of taking walks in the gardens. Some of his other works from the time portray quotidian scenes from this peaceful residence (eg Irises). Today, grounds are still used to treat the mentally ill and the patients’ artworks are for sale in the Gift shop. Indeed, those who see the world through different eyes seem to produce the most profound art.

Les Baux de Provence are considered to be one of the most beautiful places in France. The city name is derived from the regional word for a rocky spur, baou. With its unique character, it is easy to see why this city is revered.

Mt. Ventoux seems to be the Everest of the cycling world. A favorite stage in the Tour de France, this mountain challenges riders to a  grueling climb 1912 m into the air. Susie’s dad explained that every year, they see countless ambulances rushing by (you can see it from their house) to rescue some idiot, amateur cyclist who collapsed. Needless to say, my family drove.

The next day we headed to the beach house at La Capte. Although the water was still too cold to go in, we enjoyed strolling and eating beach side before heading to St. Tropez. The French Riviera is home to French and foreign celebrities a like. One such is Bridgette Bardot of Godard’s cult classic, Contempt. From twenty thousand euro outfits to yachts big enough to hold other boats inside them, this region is filled with luxury and gold seems to be the new black.

My last stop with my parents was Paris where we visited my uncle (not actually my uncle – it’s an Asian thing), his wife, and my aunt (also not actually my aunt). My uncle is the kind of guy who will open 3 bottles of wine with a meal: one to titillate the palate, one to accompany the main dish, and one with the cheese plate and/or dessert. My uncle kept filling my glass. At that point, I could honestly say that was the most alcohol I had ever consumed in that amount of time.

This wasn’t my first time in Paris, nor, I hope, will it be my last. Four years ago as a sophomore, I came with my high school. There’s a superstition that if you step on Point Zero which marks the center of Paris (in front of Notre Dame).

My first time in Paris was a little rushed. I think we got a total of about 3 hours in the Louvre. This time, I went back and did it properly spending the entire day there. The day after we did similarly with the Musée d’Orsay. Due to current renovation, the galleries are all moved around so works that are not normally placed together are now juxtaposed. Inside the gallery I heard an American say (rather loudly), “Oh, Van Gogh, finally some Impressionist art.” Sir, do you know where you are!? This museum is home to one of the most impressive collections of Impressionism in the world. Monet, Renoir, Cézanne, Bazille all under one roof! Blows my mind!

Another must see in Paris is the Rodin museum. This was on my dad’s list of things to see from four years ago, so this time we really had to go. If there’s one thing I learned at this museum, it’s that bronze sculptures are ridiculously complex to make. Props to Rodin for his mastery of such a non forgiving medium.


Michelle: Spring Break Part 2

May 21, 2011

As I was saying…

After leaving Montpellier, my Uncle and Aunt dropped us off in Avignon to meet Susie and her family while they continued to Bourg en Bresse where they have a summer home. Since I’ve already written about Avignon, I’m not going to do it again. I will however say that we had an amazing meal at Restaurant Christian Etienne.

Note: everything in Italics was copied from my notes during Spring Break.

After settling in at Susie’s parent’s place in Caromb, the next day her parents took us on a grand tour of Provence. L’Isle sur la Sorgue is not literally an island however it is by the Sorgue river. One of the coolest things about this cozy little town is its bi-weekly market. It almost seems to engulf the entire town with vendors selling everything from olives to antiques to Indian scarves. Most people are not accustomed to bargaining for their goods. As Americans, the only things we tend to bargain for are homes and cars (and even that tradition is diminishing). At most open markets, it is expected that you bargain for everything except food products (which are sold by weight). One of the nice things about a market as opposed to grocery store is that you as the client have a one on one connection with the vendor. At a nougat stand, my mom was talking to the vendor and he asked where we were from. “Malaysia,” responded my mom. All of a sudden, I wasn’t the one who had to translate everything. It turns out, the vendor spoke a little Malay. He knocked a few euro off the price of the nougat.

After finishing our first market, we continued on through the Provençal countryside. Unfortunately, I cannot for the life of me remember the name of this next city. If anybody knows, please leave a comment.

Here, we looked at a lot of artisanal pottery that is typical of the region. This was definitely a situation of look, but don’t touch. Because it is all hand crafted, one of a kind, it comes with a one of a kind price. As with much of southern France, vestiges of the Roman empire are omnipresent. This is the Pont Julien that traverses the Calavon River. Pretty, right?

Next stop: Roussillon, “the Colorado of Provence” as Susie’s dad called it. We got to the top of this city on a hill just as the sun was starting fall behind the landscape. Seeing the light illuminate the ocher cliffs highlights the full majesty of nature. The beauty of the scenery seems to engulf every thought in your mind as you sit entranced by the view. Perhaps that’s a little hyperbolic, but it is really a simply breathtaking sight.


Stay tuned for the second half of my week with my parents and Susie’s family in one of the following posts. Right now, I’m getting ready to traverse Italy and I still want to right a wrap up of my stay in France. I promise, I will finish writing about Spring Break…eventually.


Michelle: Spring Break Part 1

May 16, 2011

As I said, the next 2–3 weeks are going to be a bit hectic. Everything is wrapping up: exams, goodbyes, planning for Italy. However, I do want to share a little bit about my break  so this is going to be serialized through a picture or two per post and short description.  Here’s post number 1:

For me, vacation started with the arrival of my parents, uncle and aunt (from Paris) in Montpellier. On Thursday night we had an aperitif with my host family and one of the women from the Minnesota program who lives next door and her children.  Despite the children’s boundless energy, it was still nice to see everyone together. I will admit, I took some pleasure in seeing my host family speaking English to my parents. For the past 4 months, they’ve seen me struggle from time to time searching for words,  tripping over syntax, or misusing a time. That night, they had the chance to be in my shoes and they did quite well. I was especially impressed with Caroline who doesn’t have to speak English regularly like Claude.

The next day we took a drive to Palavas les Flots and Aigues Mortes. Palavas is where Caroline grew up. When she was a kid, she lived in an HLM there. Now, it’s all built up for tourists with resorts, restaurants, you get the picture. Despite the huge tourist appeal, it is a nice beach on which I laid out multiple times this trip.

Aigues Mortes used to be from where French crusaders would depart for the Holy Land. This is a statue of St. Louis, king of France who went on the 7th and 8th crusades. The city is also well known for the salt produced in the area. From the top of the ramparts that encircle the city you can see mountains of salt from processing centers nearby.

I now realize I don’t have any pictures of my parents in Montpellier. It’s so familiar to me now, I feel like it would have been similar to taking pictures of Minneapolis or Waukesha. I showed them my favorite parts of the city: St. Roch, Antigone, Comedie, the trompe l’oeils, and we spent a lot of time just walking around the small streets.

That’s it for installment one. À bientôt!


Michelle: State-internship

May 13, 2011

Today was my last day at my internship; saying goodbye to everyone was a bittersweet occasion. I’ve worked there since the beginning of February, and I’m now realizing I haven’t written a word about it since I’ve gotten here. 

During my stay here I participated in an internship organized by the University of Minnesota. After filling out a questionnaire about my skills and interests and submitting my CV, I was placed at the Montpellier’s Office of Tourism. There, I worked with the communication’s team. Basically, this meant proofreading or translating into English their publications for web and some for print. In seeing the faults of others in your language, sometimes you learn a little bit more about their language. Take for example this phrase:

“Le zoo de Montpellier n’est pas un poumon vert comme les autres.”

The original translation for this was:

“The zoo of Montpellier is not a green lung like the others”

Upon reading this, my first thought was, what the heck is a green lung? I changed it to:

“Montpellier’s zoo is an urban oasis apart from the rest.”

One thing I really learned is translations are hard work. It’s easy to look at bad translations and laugh, but once you try to do it yourself, it’s not that easy.

After all is said and done, I really enjoyed my experience there. Everyone was really friendly and good humored. A nice byproduct is I always had something to do during the weekend because I generally knew what was going on in the city or near it: festivals, free events, concerts…


Michelle: Cross-cultural dinners

April 20, 2011

For those of you who know me, even if only casually, you know I like to cook. Last weekend, I cooked a lot.

Saturday night after coming back from the excursion, Casee and I prepared an American night at her host family’s place. The menu: Jalapeño Hamburgers, Hot Dogs, Hot Wings, Sweet Ice Tea, Lemonade, and Brownines. There was also a bunch of American Candy sitting out that Casee’s family back home had sent her (York Peppermint Patties, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Sour Patch Kids, and Hershey’s Kisses).

I will admit, I was a little scared about how everything would turn out. When we made the brownies, we didn’t measure anything (because they don’t have measuring cups here). It was a miracle that they rose and yet another that they actually tasted good. The hot wings were based on my mom’s recipe, but there’s no Frank’s Red Hot here. So, I used a somewhat strange mix of Tabasco, Harissa, Ketchup, (French) Mustard, and garlic. It didn’t taste like home (it was a little sweet), but it turned out OK.

Something I didn’t really realize is a very American concept is eating with your hands. We do it a lot. So do the French, they just do it much less.

After dinner the dancing started. That’s right. We showed them The Electric Slide, The Twist, Soulja Boy, and YMCA. I think the most memorable moment of the evening is probably Casee, and her host sisters’ (Claire and Anais) faces when their dad (Andre) started doing the Souja Boy.

With so much cross cultural interaction, I don’t know why this was surprising, but the French also have the Chicken Dance (La Danse des Canards) and the Hokey Pokey.

Sunday night was Asian night at Brian and Eric’s apartment. Since my host family’s son, Florian, is in town, I invited him to go. I made Satay with Peanut Sauce and Brian did a stir-fry and nems. I just want to take a moment to appreciate how interesting the picture below is. On the left we have Florian, a Frenchman who lived in Australia for a year, learning to make Nems, an Asian cuisine, from Brian, an American who grew up in Africa. Though not in this picture, Florian brought a friend who is Brazilian. Really, all we needed was an Antarctican and we’d have Bingo!

In any case, the food was great, the company was great. Because of Florian and his friend, we spoke a very strange mix of Franglais most of the night. Mom, my sauce was not pale this time and I served it with cucumber salad 🙂 The night was so much fun, we forgot to take pictures though.


Michelle: Football!

April 20, 2011

Last Sunday was a very important day for the Montpellier Soccer team. Facing off against their rivals, Olympique Marseille, Montpellier had the make the cut for European qualification. Before playing Marseille, Montpellier was 8th in their league (Ligue 1). The top three teams in the league qualify for the Champions League and the 4th team qualifies for the UEFA Europa League. If the winners of Coupe de France and Coupe de la Ligue are teams 1-4, then teams 5 and 6 play in the Europa League as well. If Montpellier had won by a margin of 3 against Marseilles and one of the two teams above them lost or tied, Montpellier would have been 6th giving them a good chance of being in the Europa League. Confusing, right? Try trying to sort through that in French.

Unfortunately, this did not happen. Montpellier’s Olivier Giroud scored the first goal in the 64th min. However, Marseille had a quick response with a goal in the 69th minute. When Montpellier’s El Kaotari tugged Marseille’s Loic Remy’s shirt keeping him from scoring, Remy responded by punching him in the face. Two red cards were awarded as well as the penalty shot by Taye Taiwo that put Marseille ahead for their ultimate win.

Before going to the game, I wish I would have learned some of the chants because there were a lot of them. The only words I was really able to understand from either team’s chants were “allez allez allez allez.” I’m told that in the case of some of Marseille’s chants, it’s better that way. Here are some from Montpellier though:

…and a bit of soccer vocabulary

tirer au but – to take a shot
une mi-temps – half
Avoir chaud – to have a close call (Montpellier avait chaud mais leur guardian a arrêté le but)
Marquer un but – to score a point
le terrain– the pitch
être hors jeu – to be offside
un carton rouge/jaune – red/yellow card


Michelle: Baroque ‘n’ Roll

April 19, 2011

After leaving Barcelona, I hopped onto an 11 hour bus ride for Lyon to see Mozart, L’Opera Rock. If there are any music enthusiasts reading this, I know Mozart is generally classified in the Classical era, but later in his career, he started incorporating Baroque features from the epoch before. If that minor detail doesn’t excuse my title, I’m sorry I was trying to be punny.

In high school, we were introduced to a comedie musicale called Le Roi Soleil about King Louis XIV, aka the Sun King. If you don’t know it, you should check it out. The most popular song from that one is probably Mon Essential. The musical also features an artist I like, Christophe Maé, as the Louis’ carefree brother, Philippe.

After Le Roi Soleil stopped touring, the producers, Dove Attia and Albert Cohen, began work on Mozart l’Opera Rock which is just as good, if not better. Another carry over from that production is the actor/singer/song writer/generally talented guy, Merwin Rim. In Le Roi Soleil, he is the Duc de Beaufort. In Mozart, he portrays L’Aubergiste (the Barkeep) and the Clown Démoniaque.

As I said, the musical follows the life of Amadeus Mozart, a young, talented, passionate composer pushed out of Salzberg by the new emperor. I don’t want to give too much away (it’s based on history so if you’re curious you can just look up a biography of Mozart), but here’s a brief summary. He and his mother make their way to Mannheim where a copyist who claims to be a big fan offers to help Mozart distribute his music if he meets his family. However, his real intention is to have his oldest daughter, Aloysia, seduce Mozart and have him write a song for her to further her singing career. Mozart is so enchanted with her voice and beauty that he falls madly in love with her and forgoes work to compose an opera for her. However, their other daughter, Constanze, truly loves Mozart and doesn’t like to see him get strung along. Mozart’s mother doesn’t want this either so she writes to his father back in Salzberg who convinces him to think about his career. Desperate to find a paying job and heartbroken, a somewhat lustful Mozart goes to Paris to find work. Finding none and losing his mother during the process, Mozart returns to Salzberg where he is again underappreciated, then goes to Vienna with dreams of writing an opera in German (as opposed to the classic Italian verse). There, he meets his rival, Antonio Salieri, who is a perpetual thorn in his side. While chance reunites him with Constanze and her family, Mozart’s works are openly mocked. He tries to find work with limited success and ultimately dies with his last work unfinished.

I did not rush the stage at the end, but Willow did and grabbed this picture!

I’m really glad you can find the plot synopsis online because otherwise I would have been completely lost during the performance. I own the CD and understand some of the songs, but still, it’s a little difficult at times. For example, I’m pretty sure they made a Lady Gaga joke during the performance, but I didn’t quite get it. Nevertheless, I’ve been singing Mozart music all week long. Here’s a few of my favorites. I hope you enjoy. (if the songs aren’t at the beginning of the clip, fast forward a couple seconds or enjoy the dialogue.)


Mozart L’Opera Rock Act 1 Part 8

Mozart L’Opera Rock Act 1 Part 9


Michelle: Barcelona

April 16, 2011

Only a three-hour bus ride and the sister city of Montpellier, I would have been really sad if I didn’t take the opportunity to go to Barcelona during my stay here. With only six weekends left, last weekend was practically my last chances to finally see beautiful Catalonia. Unfortunately, I could only spend one full day there because I had already bought a ticket to see Mozart l’Opera Rock that same weekend in Lyon…but Lyon will be a different post. If ever I have the chance to come back to Europe, I will definitely be returning to Barcelona.

Getting dripped on the entire trip by Euroline’s overhead air-conditioning and being roasted by the heat coming out of the vents underneath was a bit of a downer, but even that didn’t dampen the rest of the visit (I tried to find contact information on their website so I could complain, but no such luck).

One of the first things I noticed about the people of Barcelona is they are much more colorful than those in Montpellier. People walk down the street wearing colors other than black, navy blue, tan, or white! In all, it makes for a more festive atmosphere.

Another thing about crossing the boarder is suddenly I either had to be able to understand Spanish or accept feeling like an idiot. Since I speak no Spanish, I had to settle for the second option. It is kind of amazing how much you can do with English, hand gestures, and a few Spanish words. For example, I had a little difficulty finding the hostel after arriving at the train station. The road I ended up wandering onto was not on my map. So I stopped the first nice looking person I saw and said, “Senora por favor,” pointed to the map and just generally looked confused. She said what I assumed was “you are here” in Spanish, pointed at the map, pointed down the street and up on the map. “Sagrada Familia?” I asked, because my hostel was at that metro stop. She held up 5 fingers for tram line five, then pointed me toward the nearest metro stop. “Gracias,” I said and found my way to the hostel. With all the Spanish names of places , I’m pretty sure I murdered the language. So Mom, Dad, this is me being humbled. When you come, I will not make fun of your French (in front of you).

To understand Barcelona you have to understand a bit of the history of the region of Catalonia. Like Alsace on the border of France and Germany, Catalonia benefits from both French and Spanish influences: they have their own language, customs, and culture.  Though technically in Spain, the Catalonians do not consider themselves Spanish.  To the left you can see the Catalan flag and the Spanish flag flying side by side. The Catalan flag is kind of folded so you can’t really see it, but is four red stripes on a gold background. The story goes, while fighting off the Moorish invasion, the Count of Barcelona, Wilfred the Hairy was wounded. Charles the Bald of the Holy Roman Empire pressed his hand against the wound to stop the bleeding. After it had stopped, he wiped his hand across Wilfred’s golden shield. The flag recreates this act in gratitude for King Charles.

Wilfred the Hairy, as well as being the Count of Barcelona, is known for his dragon slaying. Unlike the typical knights we think of using a sword to kill the beasts, Wilfred used a club.

Due to the influence of Catholicism, Barcelona adopted Wilfred’s Catholic counterpart as their patron saint: St. George. With his white shield and red cross, he killed dragons the way we normally picture such adventurers, with a sword.

In addition to St. George, Barcelona has a second patron saint, St. Eulalia. Eulalia was a 13-year-old girl when Christianity was still in its infancy in Spain. She was not only a believer in Christianity but she tried to spread the word of God. The Roman emperor did not like this bratty little girl challenging his authority and thus subjected her to public humiliation. Stripped naked in a public square, God produced a light snowfall around her to cover her and preserve her purity. This miracle, of course did not sit well with the townspeople who wanted to prove that her god did not exist so they put her in a barrel of knives and rolled her down the street. Here, she was martyred for her beliefs and became a saint. Today, Barcelona’s women still keep a shrine devoted to her on a street called Baixada de Santa Eulalia, “Eulalia’s Descent.”

Below is the former Roman limit of the city. There used to be a drawbridge and water, but those two features are long gone. You can still see one of the Roman arches on the left of the photo.

During the Age of Exploration, Spain commissioned an adventurous young explorer to find a faster route to the Orient. This statue is in honor of that man and he points toward the Americas, the land he discovered.

Upon Columbus’ return, be brought with him all the riches of the New World including foods, animals, and people. It was in the Placa del Rei where he was received. Here is where the Old World met the New.

In addition to their rich history, Barcelona is also known for their art. The two pictures below have a bit of a funny story attached. First of all, that building is the city’s school of architecture. That probably wasn’t your first guess; moi non plus. A couple decades ago, they decided they wanted their building to be less of an eyesore so they created a new facade. According to the story, Picasso and Miro were rivals. One night after a Miro exhibition, Picasso was sitting in his favorite pub, Els Quatro Gats, probably getting a little bit drunk/trippy off absinthe. Everyone in the bar was going on about how great Miro is. Finally, Picasso had had enough and says ”Miro’s work looks like child’s work, anyone can do a Miro.”  He then proceeds to get out a marker draws the first sketch on the bar’s tablecloth to prove it. The people in the bar have to admit, his sketch could be a Miro.  Someone at the bar that night was smart enough to save the tablecloth

Some days later, Miro hears about Picasso’s slight against him and retaliates with his rendition of a Picasso. Today, the products of this artist’s quarrel serve to mask possibly the ugliest building in Barcelona.

As you may have guessed, Picasso studied and worked in Barcelona. At the age of 14, the Picasso family moved to Barcelona where Pablo was enrolled in La Llotja, the local art school (pictured below). Unbeknown to his father, La Llotja is in the middle of what was then, Barcelona’s red light district. There are those who say that it is from this early exposure to sexuality that Picasso became quite the ladies’ man. Being a world renowned artist probably didn’t hurt either. This street, the Career d’Avinyo, is where Picasso drew his inspiration for Les Demoiselles d’Avignon.

Next to the La Llotja is the Placa George Orwell. Somewhat poetically, this was the first square in Barcelona to be put under 24 hour video surveillance. Read the rest of this entry ?

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