The historic medieval city of Bruges (Brugge), about an hour northwest of Brussels by train, is considered one the world’s most beautiful cities. The canals that run between its cobblestone streets have earned it the nickname of “Venice of the North.”
We visited on a very rainy day, which soured our experience quite a bit. We were soaked by the time we reached the park that doubles as the entrance to the old city and the weather never relented.
We did our best to capture the city, dodging raindrops and wiping the camera lens with sopping shirt tails, but could only manage a few good shots. By the time we reached the 300-foot, 750-year-old Belfry (pictured above), our Gore-Tex had been soundly defeated by Mother Nature. We cut our losses and headed back to Brussels. Bruges will have to wait until next time!
A row of houses built in the early 1700s have been restored to pristine condition.The Béguinage was built in the 1200s as a community for women who considered themselves devoutly religious, but did not want to become nuns. Since 1927, it’s been a convent for Benedictine nuns.One of the canals in Bruges that give it the moniker of “Venice of the North.”Some of the old facaded buildings that line the main square.Another old neighborhood further from the town center. Many of the buildings here were built in the 1500-1600s, including a pub that celebrated its 500th anniversary in 2015.
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I’m always glad when we get to spend a weekend in a city during our travels, especially in Europe where public markets pop up like tulips in the spring. On Sunday in Brussels, we could barely turn a corner without running into one.
The Marché de la Gare du Midi is a wild combination of produce and flea market packed into a tight space under a highway overpass. The large Turkish and Moroccan immigrant population lives at this end of the city and dominates the market. Bowls of olives overflow next to hot griddles cooking up golzeme and flatbread.
We sought out a specific stand making flatbread wraps filled with feta cheese, olives, figs, onions, roasted bell peppers, dried tomatoes and even a whole dolma, then drizzled with honey. To top it off, it’s served with a glass of fresh mint tea. The flavors were truly a party in your mouth. The figs and honey act as a sweet hostess greeting you at the door while the stuffed grape leaf in the middle is like the intellectual philosophizing on the couch to anyone who will listen. By the end, everything is blended together, no longer distinguishable from one another.
Up the street, the Place du Jeu de Balle flea market is literally a public square full of junk. Sure, you can find some decent art and maybe some nice silverware or dishes. But you’ll have to navigate the eccentric deal-hunters pouring over broken boomboxes, naked Barbie dolls and “art” like the large framed photo of someone’s grandmother circa 1999.
With no room in our carry-on for one man’s treasure, we rode the glass elevator up to the viewpoint near Palais de Justice and tried to board the tram to our next destination. Apparently the tram was parked at the terminus, not at a stop. The driver tried to explain this in French, but after seeing our blank stares, he smiled and told us it was okay to get on because “you’re not from here.”
The tram took us to Place Flagey in the Ixelles neighborhood. A local market was just closing up for the day, but that was fine because we were there for frites! The line at Frit Flagey reminded me of Voodoo Doughnuts in Portland. Lining up for snack food seems ridiculous and I’m sure the locals scoff at the tourists who do so (just like in downtown PDX), but the product is worth it. Crispy and airy, most of the potato is fried away, leaving a dense, salty frit behind.
In true “When in Brussels…” form, we took a bus from Flagey to nearby Jourdanplein to try what are widely-considered the best frites in Brussels. Maison Antoine has been serving up frites for more than 60 years. The large stand is clearly king of the neighborhood as the surrounding bars all proclaim “Frites Welcome” in a variety of language, encouraging the visiting tourists to have a beer with their snack.
Maison Antoine didn’t disappoint with a more perfect frit, soft in the middle with a crispy shell. Each layer is salted instead of relying on gravity to do the work. Maison Antoine is a must-try during a stay in Brussels.
The public bus back toward our hotel became a hop-on, hop-off as it wound through the Sablon neighborhood, known for its antiques market and up-and-coming Belgian chocolate shops. We bought a few pieces of artisanal choco goodness at Passion Chocolates and walked around the neighborhood.
Nearby, we found views overlooking the city, including the central plaza of Grand Place. The town hall, completed in 1420, is the highlight of the plaza with its 315-feet tall bell tower. It’s surrounded by equally grand buildings, many highlighted with gold-foil details. It’s often ranked as the most beautiful public square in Europe and became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1998.
A statue called “La Cycliste” by Alain Séchas features a cat on a bicycle overlooking a traffic intersection.An olive vendor’s bounty at Marché de la Gare du Midi.The crazy wrap at the Marché de la Gare du Midi.The insanity of Place du Jeu de Balle flea market.A vendor selling silverware and dishes at the Place du Jeu de Balle flea market. An argument broke out nearby after a customer stepped on and broke a plate then pretended she didn’t do it.View of Brussels from near Palais de Justice.Waiting in line at Frit Flagey.A sculpture outside the 60-year-old frites institution of Maison Antoine.Looking toward the Grand Place from up above Sablon.
The town hall building at Grand Place.
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Day 26 was a travel day with a twist. We booked bus tickets to make the short trip from Amsterdam to Brussels, Belgium. We had to split up on the crowded bus. Viktoria landed a front seat next to a lady who watched Harry Potter on her laptop. I got stuck next to a fussy baby and a giant Spaniard who, despite his best efforts, took a quarter of my seat along with his. About 10 minutes in, the driver announced that we’d be delayed about an hour due to construction.
All in all, the bus ride turned out OK. The gentle giant offered me a swig from his water bottle about halfway through the journey (which I politely declined). The fussy baby stopped crying and spent most of the journey sleeping while his young mother thumbed through her Bible. The driver announced that he’d found a detour and we’d only have a slight delay.
Once in Brussels, we turned to the business of finding our hotel and then finding food. No trip to Belgium is complete without trying waffles, frites (don’t call them french fries), local beer and handmade chocolate. We arrived during the dunch hours (halfway between lunch and dinner), so breakfast food seemed like a logical way to start checking items off the list.
Waffle cafe Peck 47 was packed on a Saturday afternoon and there was no waiting list. Seating was divvied up kill-or-be-killed style; if you see a table empty, grab it before someone else does. We ordered two savory waffles, topped with melted cheddar cheese and something called Psycho Sauce, along with two local craft beers. Everything was delicious!
We walked around the old city center for a bit, then crossed off the next item on the must-eat list. Frites may seem like french fries to the uninitiated, but there’s an art to Belgium’s favorite snack. The potatoes are sweet and yellow and are fried twice, leaving the inside soft and potato-y and the outside golden and crispy. They’re always served in a paper cone with plenty of salt and a standard choice of a dozen-and-a-half sauces. The frites at Fritland were probably the least-good of the ones we tried in Brussels, but we’re still better than most french fries I’ve ever had.
We finished up the day at the highly-recommended and very crowded Moeder Lambic, a craft beer bar featuring mostly Belgian-made brews. We tried a Troubadour Magma (a hoppish blonde), a Noir de Dottignies (a dark ale) and a Monk’s Stout (an imperial stout). Verdict: Belgian beers are the best we’ve had in Europe (but still not as good as Oregon beers!).
Frites… check! Waffles… check! Beer… check! Chocolate would have to wait for another day.
Savory waffles at Peck 47.The rainy streets of Brussels. The tower of the Town Hall in Grand Place can be seen at the left.Our first Belgian frites at Fritland!Troubadour Magma and Noir de Dottignies at Moeder Lambic.Manneken Pis, Brussels’s famous 17th century statue of a little boy peeing, has been co-opted throughout town. Here, he’s eating a waffle… while peeing.We didn’t try the frites here for obvious reasons.
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When I think of Holland, the image of wooden shoes and windmills come to mind. Amsterdam hints at it through its many souvenir stands, but there are places where the idyllic scenery of old Holland still exists.
One such place is Zaanse Schans, a neighborhood in the Amsterdam suburb of Zaandam. A short train ride from Amsterdam Centraal, the river town has worked hard to retain some of 17th century Holland, even as it is surrounded by modernity.
While everyone headed across the bridge to the village created specifically for tourists, we stayed on the near side of the Zaan River and walked through the old neighborhood. Restored homes proudly display their original construction dates from the 1600-1700s. Very few of the buildings had been taken over by commerce as usually happens in these kinds of places. These houses are still homes.
We stopped into a chocolate shop called Chocolaterie de Boom and had a glass of hot chocolate. The city was once home to 15 cocoa mills and, although only two large cocoa mills remain today, the neighborhood still smells like chocolate. It’s literally in the air.
On the opposite side of the river, most of the city’s eight remaining windmills invite visitors to see what life looked like pre-Industrial Revolution. With names like The Cat, The Ox and The Spotted Hen, some of the mills even perform the same function as they did nearly 500 years ago. Het Jong Schaap (The Young Sheep) is an active sawmill that offers tours for just a few euros.
We ended our day at the tourist village, which had mostly closed down for the day. Here visitors can see chocolate being made or watch a craftsman make the aforementioned wooden clogs. But the real charm of Zaanse Schans comes by walking along the river and imagining life in old Holland.
De Bleeke Dood, or The Pale Death is the first mill you come to from the train station, marking the bridge over the Zaan River.Hot chocolate at Chocolaterie de Boom. Pieces of dark chocolate were placed in the glass with hot milk poured over them. When we were ready, we mixed the chocolate in with a teaspoon. Wonderful!The Young Sheep, a sawmill, as seen from the opposite side of the Zaan River.The old homes of Zaanse Schans date back to the 1600s.From right to left, The Young Sheep (sawmill), The Seeker (oil mill), The Houseman (mustard mill), The Cat (dye mill) and The Crowned Poelenburg (sawmill).The Cat at sunset.A bike path runs along the east side of the Zaan River, offering a convenient way to view the windmills.Zaanse Schans windmills.Zaanse Schans windmills.The Houseman at sunset.Zaanse Schans windmills.The old houses in the tourist village have mostly been imported from around the area beginning in the 1960s.
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Our second day in Amsterdam was also Viktoria’s birthday! The clear, crisp weather from the day before gave way to steady showers. Nothing to do but bundle up and enjoy the day!
We started with a quick walk through the Albert Cuyp Market. Although it was a Thursday morning, the market was much busier than the previous afternoon. Albert Cuyp is a great place to find local specialties like stroopwafle—two thin layers of dough baked on a waffle iron with syrup in between—or gevulde koek, two cookies with almond paste baked in between. It’s the Dutch cultural equivalent of the American chocolate chip cookie.
A short walk away is Amsterdam’s main flower market. From the street, Bloemenmarkt looks like a long row of stalls with a ton of tulip bulbs and other more tourist-targeted products (wooden shoes, marijuana seeds and Venus fly-traps for starters). But the 150-year-old market is actually set on platforms floating on the canal behind the shops and is the only floating flower market in the world
In the afternoon, we visited the Anne Frank Huis. The museum is inside the office building where Frank and her family hid from the Nazis during World War II. While light on information, the effect of walking through the building is powerful. You climb the “leg-breaking stairs” that Anne describes in her journal. You enter the secret annex from behind the same bookcase that covered the opening in the 1940s.
Pro tip: Skip the line and get your Anne Frank Haus tickets online. Only a handful of tickets are made available online for each day, so book several days in advance.
Anne’s father, Otto, was the only member of the family to survive the concentration camps. A secretary who helped the family hide kept Anne’s journals and gave them to Otto when they confirmed Anne’s death at Auschwitz. She had rewritten many parts of her journals before the family was captured, which would become the basis for the international best-seller The Diary of Anne Frank. Her original journals are on display as well as excerpts of the rewritten portions.
We finished the day with a birthday drink at Arendsnest, a craft beer pub near the Jordaan neighborhood. The pub features a large selection of only Dutch beers and a knowledgeable staff who encourages sampling until you find just the right choice.
Stroopwafle at the Albert Cuyp Market.One of the many houseboats lining the canals in Amsterdam.The Heineken Brewery makes its home in Amsterdam. The beer itself isn’t any better here than it is in the US…The stalls of Bloemenmarkt floating on the canal near the city center. Opened in 1862, it’s the world’s only floating flower market.Four portraits of Anne Frank. Photos were prohibited inside the museum, but we were able to get a few snaps in the exhibition near the exit. A quote from Anne’s journals. The story of the museum was told through short excerpts from her writing.Our beers at Arendsnest, a Zakkendragger Imperial Porter and a Smokey Au Vin sour Belgian ale. Delicious!
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“The Queen ate here,” says Bob of Bob’s Vlaamse Frituur, a french fry stand in Amsterdam’s famous Albert Cuyp Market.
He nodded toward a photo hanging in his booth. We expected to see the instantly-recognizable Queen Elizabeth of England, but this is The Netherlands and they have their own royal family. He proudly recalled the time she visited and we tried to keep our enthusiasm at Queen of England levels.
We arrived in Amsterdam late afternoon and immediately headed for the market, which was only 20 minutes away from closing for the day. Many of the stalls were still open and the market would become a daily starting point for our adventures into the streets of Holland’s capital city.
Amsterdam may be best known for its Red Light District and legalized drug use, but these sordid details make up a very small part of the city. The public areas—parks, plazas and markets—are vast and lively. There’s a charm to the bicycle traffic, which easily outnumbers the automobiles. Dodging the bikes and the trams is an art form all its own.
The architecture is brilliant. The old-world charm hasn’t been lost, even as modern-day life takes place in and around. Cafes dating to the 1600s are still in operation. Many of the narrow brick buildings have sinking foundations, their forward-list apparent next to their tightly-packed neighbors.
We continued to explore the streets, eventually stumbling upon Museumplein. The large park is flanked by the definitive Van Gogh Museum and Rijksmuseum with its collection of Rembrandt and Chagal works. But the most popular draw that night was the frozen-over pond being used as an ice skating rink. Nearby, tourists posed for photos on and around the “Iamsterdam” sign (I am Amsterdam… Get it?).
After the sun went down, we wandered up and down the canals that separate the city’s neighborhoods. Tourist boats were few and far between. Instead, houseboats were anchored along the banks. Small rowboats were tethered nearby. The canels aren’t just part of Amsterdam’s neighborhoods, they are the neighborhoods.
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Wooden tulips…
Albert Cuypstraat Market.
Amsterdam canals.
Slippers in the form of wooden shoes at the Albert Cuypstraat Market.
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Sunset in Amsterdam.
…and the real deal!
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These kids were doing goofy things kids do, so when Viktoria asked to take their picture, they just kept on being kids.
Bicycle parking in Amsterdam.These kids were doing goofy things kids do, so when Viktoria asked to take their picture, they just kept on being kids.
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Homes in the De Pijp area.
Amsterdam canals.
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Because of the way our flights worked out, we only had two full days in Berlin. It’s tough to balance seeing the “things” with getting to see some of the real city in such a short amount of time.
On day 22, our last in Berlin, we took the metro to the popular Kreuzberg neighborhood for its Turkish Market. Dozens of vendors sell everything from fresh produce to freshly-made Turkish food to fabrics and handmade goods. It was exactly what we needed to lift our cold and rainy spirits from the day before.
From there, we walked around the aptly-named Museum Island, home to many of Berlin’s top collections. At one point, about 20 police vans went screaming by. Armed officers lined the streets, closing off sections of the area. Eventually we gave up and moved on to the Berlin Wall Memorial near our Airbnb(affiliate link—sign up now and receive a discount on your first booking!).
We’d later discover that the police presence was due to an official state visit by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. The PM and his entourage beat us to the Memorial, but fortunately it was mostly open for us to move around.
The memorial is located around the only remaining original section of the wall. A guard tower and an area between the walls known as the “death strip” have been preserved as well. It’s a powerful memorial as it shows scenes from before, during and after and the impact it had on the Ackerstraße neighborhood.
The Turkish Market in Berlin’s Kreuzberg neighborhood was excellent, packed with food, produce, crafts, fabric and more.A vendor at the Turkish Market serves up salep, a drink made from milk, starch, sugar, cinnamon and a glutinous flour made from orchids. It was delicious with a texture like tapioca.
A 3-D mural on a wall near the Turkish Market.Climbers descending the sphere of the 1,200 foot tall TV tower in Berlin.A police tank in Berlin’s Museum Island district. Hundreds of police vehicles and officers patrolled the streets due to a visit from Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. As a result, many sights were inaccessible as Netanyahu and his entourage visited the area.One of the last remaining original stretches of the Berlin Wall at the Berlin Wall Memorial.A cross commemorating the graves of St. Elizabeth Cemetery that were displaced by the building of the Berlin Wall seen through a crack in the wall.A guard tower and the area between in inner and outer walls known as the “death strip” can still be seen at the Berlin Wall Memorial.Very few pieces of the Berlin Wall remain today, but the path of the wall is still clearly marked by a double row of cobblestones with a plaque inserted at regular intervals.A cross placed by the Church of Reconciliation at the memorial. The church’s membership was divided by the wall. In 1985, the church was destroyed by the East German government.The wall was built over a section of graves at the St. Elizabeth Cemetery. When the wall was torn down, the cemetery kept the section that was built over the grave sites as a memorial to the disturbed souls.
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For nearly 30 years, a major world city was divided in half by a concrete wall. On one side, Western-style prosperity flourished in a post-war economic boom. On the other side, people longed for freedom as they lived under the thumb of a totalitarian government.
The Berlin Wall—Berliner Mauer in German—served a dual purpose. Technically, the wall faced West Berlin, keeping the “fascists” (as East German propaganda referred to the west) from crossing into the Communist-controlled east. But ultimately, the wall kept East Berliners inside. With each escape attempt, the wall as further fortified until it became virtually impenetrable.
On our first full day in Berlin, we walked a three-mile stretch of the wall’s remains from the East Side Gallery to Brandenburg Gate. While only small stretches of the wall still exist, a double-cobblestone line traces the original position of the wall through the streets of Berlin.
East Side Gallery features works of peace and politics and has now stood as a symbol of freedom for nearly as long as the wall stood as a symbol of the Cold War. West Berliners famously used the wall as a canvas for political street art. When the wall finally fell in 1989, a project was commissioned to bring artists from all around the world to paint murals on the newly-opened border.
During the 1990s and 2000s, many of the paintings degraded due to weather or were covered by graffiti. In 2009, a new project commissioned the original artists to come back and redo sir works using more appropriate paint. Fences were added to limit the reach of vandals.
Today, the gallery is the longest stretch of the original wall in Berlin at just short of a mile. Signs detail each of the 105 paintings showing when that piece of the wall was constructed, when it fell, when it was painted and when it was restored.
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One of the most famous pieces at the East Side Gallery, entitled “My God, Help Me to Survive This Deadly Love” by Dmitri Vrubel recreates a famous photo of Soviet Chairman Leonid Brezhnev and East Germany Chairman Erich Honecker engaging in a kiss.
Mural at East Side Gallery in Berlin.
Mural at East Side Gallery in Berlin.
Mural at East Side Gallery in Berlin.
Mural at East Side Gallery in Berlin.
Mural at East Side Gallery in Berlin.
Mural at East Side Gallery in Berlin.
Mural at East Side Gallery in Berlin.
Mural at East Side Gallery in Berlin.
The famous sign at Checkpoint Charlie, an original border crossing between East and West Berlin is now in a museum. The checkpoint has been recreated in its original spot, complete with “American” soldiers as a tourist photo op.The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe is a far-reaching series of stone slabs with varying heights. According to documents, the memorial is “designed to produce an uneasy, confusing atmosphere, and the whole sculpture aims to represent a supposedly ordered system that has lost touch with human reason.”Built in 1791, the Brandenburg Gate originally served as the beginning of the road from Berlin to Brandenburg City. The gate was closed off during the wall era and became a symbol of reunification when the wall finally came down in 1989.
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Just as it was unfair to judge Barcelona at its best, we had to be careful not to dismiss Berlin at first glance. Compared to sunny Barcelona, arriving in Berlin was quite a shock as we were greeted by below-freezing temperatures and rain mixed with snow. The boisterous crowds of tourists gave way to bone-chilled locals who all seemed to be on edge. As we arrived at the metro stop near our Airbnb apartment, we saw two people fighting in another car. Pepper spray was deployed. It wasn’t pretty.
Our apartment ended up being further away from things than we anticipated out in the eastern suburb of Wedding (pronounced Vedding), but that gave us a chance to explore the real Berlin. On a Sunday night, that means most things are closed.
The neighborhood is one of Berlin’s poorest financially, but richest in terms of diversity with 48 percent of the population made up of non-Germans, primarily Turkish immigrants. We saw this walking through the streets as we ended up at a small, family-run Turkish restaurant for dinner. Of the three tables, we occupied one and the family, sitting down for their own dinner, occupied the other two. The food and atmosphere were both great.
After dinner, we walked to Vagabund Brauerei, one of a growing number of craft breweries in Berlin. Vagabund considers the movement a renaissance instead of a trend. During the 19th century, more than 700 breweries existed in the city with a focus on the signature Berliner Weisse, a white sour beer. Today, there are around 20 craft breweries in the city, combining old German-style recipes with influences from around the globe. The IPA we ordered at Vagabund was packed with Oregon-grown hops.
Next we stopped into Simit Evi, a bakery (or konditorei) packed with people enjoying a late-night sweet. We shared a slice of cake and drooled over the other treats on display. Before heading home, we bought a loaf of bread at a small bakery. The old lady behind the counter handed us a couple of of sesame rings—also called simit in Turkish—as we headed out. So kind. So delicious!
On the way back to the apartment, we heard the familiar sound of drums. Unlike in Barcelona, these drums were accompanied by a flute. We followed the sound to the community hall where a Turkish wedding was underway. The bride and groom had just arrived and the party was headed inside. A wedding in Wedding… perfect!
Looking out the airplane window as we leave Barcelona.The kitchen of our Airbnb has a Jackson Pollock-inspired design.The makali plate, a mix of fried vegetables, at the small Turkish restaurant.Vagabund Braurei in Wedding’s up-and-coming Leopoldplatz district.Cake at Simit Evi.
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A person could spend a week in Barcelona chasing the unique designs of architect Antoni Gaudí and not see everything. Of the 19 buildings designed by Gaudí, 12 are in Barcelona proper and seven make up the UNESCO World Heritage collection “Works of Antoni Gaudí.”
We didn’t intend on chasing down Gaudí’s list while in Barcelona, but we ended up seeing three up close and personal. After visiting La Sagrada Familia and Palau Güell, we finished with a day at Park Güell.
The park was another in a series of collaborations between Gaudí and Catalonian entrepreneur Eusebi Güell, intended as a place where Barcelona’s emerging upper-class could build homes and live in a community of shared ideals. For Gaudí, the bare land on Carmel Hill was a blank canvas, a place to explore his artistic tendencies toward harmony between nature and architecture.
Walking into Park Güell is akin to stepping into the board game Candy Land. The first two buildings—the Porter’s Lodge and the Porter’s House—look like they were plucked from the Gumdrop Forest with their whipped frosting roofs placed atop cake-colored brick and decorated with mosaic tile sprinkles.
From the second floor of the Porter’s Lodge, you can look down over the Dragon’s Stairway and the Hypostyle Room. The “dragon” is actually a very large sculpture of a salamander, again adorned in broken tile mosaic. The Hypostyle is a large covered area, the roof held in place by groupings of massive columns. Several large spaces were left inside with the intent of setting up a marketplace for the park’s residents.
Atop the Hypostyle’s roof, Gaudí built a public square. Plaça de la Natura is outlined by a tile-covered bench that curves in and out around the entire edge of the square. From the front edge, you can look out over Barcelona’s Gràcia district all the way to the Mediterranean Sea.
Heading downhill from the Nature Square, you walk through the crown jewel of Gaudí’s attempt to blend nature and structure. The Washerwoman Portico, named for the single carving of a woman carrying a laundry basket on her head, looks as if it could have occurred naturally. Rough, slanted stone columns frame a long, curved walkway. Standing inside the walkway, it appears as if you’re in the trough of a crashing wave.
The park surrounding the monument area is much more simple. The winding path climbs up and down Carmel Hill, offering many quiet moments in stark contrast to the busier interior. The largest crowd will be found on the top of Turó de les Tres Cruces—Hill of Three Crosses—chasing a free view of the city.
With less than 24 hours remaining in Barcelona, we headed for the city’s famous beaches. After a couple cool and drizzly days, the weather gods smiled upon us with a sunny, 70 degree day and the locals and tourists alike were taking advantage. Barceloneta, the main beach along the coastline, was full of sunsoakers, bicyclists, joggers and even rollerbladers (can’t remember the last time I saw an unironic rollerblader in the US). We caught the sunset as it faded away from the Mediterranean and headed back toward the city.
After one last tapas dinner, we worked our way through the Gothic Quarter back toward our apartment when the sound of drums caught our attention once again. We wandered into the parade of Correfoc dels Diables Petits or Fireworks of the Little Devils.
Kids of all ages, dressed in devil costumes and trailed by large bands of drummers, ran down the side of La Ramblas carrying sticks with sparking fireworks attached to the top. When lit by a “responsible” adult, the firework would spin atop the stick, sending a shower of sparks flying into the crowd.
We watched for a few minutes before letting go of Barcelona and heading back to our apartment. The sound of drums and general cheer carried on until early the next morning; a great way to remember our time in Catalonia.
The Porter’s Lodge at Park Güell.The salamander statue on the Dragon’s Stairway at Park Güell.Looking down from Plaça de la Natura at the Porter’s Lodge and House. The district of Gràcia and the Mediterranean Sea can be seen in the distance.The Portico of the Washerwoman.The street-facing side of the Porter’s Lodge.The sunset from Barceloneta.
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Correfoc dels Diables Petits
Correfoc dels Diables Petits
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