Barcelona, Day 3: Brunch, Flamenco, and the Brutal Betrayal of Spanish Buffets

 November 13, 2024

We started our third day in Barcelona with the most millennial breakfast possible: avocado toast. But, in my defense, the place was really cute. We were at Billy Brunch Headquarters, crammed into the tiniest table you've ever seen—on a propped up platform against the wall—next to a boisterous group of Brits having the time of their lives. Honestly, if you didn’t hear the phrase “cheeky pint” at least once, were you even at brunch?

From there, we wandered through the Gothic Quarter for a bit of shopping. Cobblestone streets, narrow alleys, the occasional whiff of incense and leather—it felt like we were strolling through a medieval Pinterest board.

Our main event of the evening was a flamenco show at Tablao Cordobés right on La Rambla. We’d booked the dinner + show option, which came with a buffet. I approached it with my usual strategy: try a little bit of everything and hope my stomach is feeling cooperative. (Foreshadowing.)

We somehow landed front row seats for the performance—close enough to see the sweat fly off the dancers as they pounded the stage with impossible precision. The male dancer was especially intense. He looked like he was either expressing centuries of Andalusian soul or trying to stomp out a kitchen fire. Either way, mesmerizing.

After the show, we tried out a bar called Three Cats, which had been recommended by one of my 'My Buddy’s' regulars. It was fine. The vibe was kind of sleepy, so we nursed a drink, gave it a respectful nod, and moved on.

Naturally, we returned to La Flauta—the restaurant from Night One that we loved so much—for a nightcap snack: jamón ibérico and patatas bravas. Perfect way to end the night… right?

Wrong.

About fifteen minutes later, I turned to Evan and said, very calmly and very seriously, “I need to go home. Now.”

What followed was seven hours of horror. I’ll spare you the gory details (you’re welcome), but let’s just say I became intimately familiar with the bathroom floor tiles. 

Evan, poor guy, had never witnessed food poisoning in the wild and kept asking if he needed to rush me to a Spanish hospital. (Bless him.) Fortunately—or unfortunately—I’ve had food poisoning multiple times, so I knew exactly what it was. Still didn’t make it suck any less.

So yeah, Day 3 ended not with a bang, but a barf.

Barcelona Day 2: Oysters, Rainstorms, and Pooping Figurines

 Nov 12, 2024

Kicking Off with a Walking Tour

We kicked off our first full day in Barcelona with a 10:30am walking tour—and thank goodness we did, because our guide brought us to some of the most jaw-dropping spots in the city.

Gaudí’s Dream House: Casa Batlló

One of the first stunners? Casa Batlló. This building looks like Gaudí let his imagination run wild after eating a whole wheel of funky cheese. With its colorful, scaled façade that mimics a dragon’s back and its undulating windows, it’s one of the best examples of Catalan Modernisme. Gaudí designed it in 1904, and honestly, it feels less like a house and more like a magical sea creature you could live inside. (pictured below are multiple Gaudi stops from our tour)

^^casa batllo

Winding Through the Gothic Quarter

From there, we wound through the Gothic Quarter, where ancient Roman walls blend with medieval alleyways and hip cafes. The energy is impossible to describe—like if a cathedral and a skate park had a baby and gave it a candlelit history book.

An Upside-Down Ship for Columbus

Then came the ship in the ceiling. Yes, you read that right. We stepped into the Reials Drassanes, the Royal Shipyard turned Maritime Museum, and there above us was a massive upside-down ship suspended from the ceiling—built to honor Christopher Columbus. It was a nod to his triumphant return to Barcelona after his first trip to the Americas. The space itself was atmospheric and cool in that "I might join a pirate crew now" kind of way.

Caganers: When in Doubt, Poop it Out

But the most unexpected stop on our tour? A gift shop dedicated entirely to Caganers. These are little figurines of famous people…pooping. Literally. Pants down, cheeks out, full squat. The tradition dates back to the 18th century, when locals supposedly used this tactic to keep invading soldiers out of their homes. A little front porch defecation goes a long way when you're trying to deter unwanted guests, I guess. Today, these cheeky ornaments are a staple in Catalan nativity scenes. At this shop, we found everyone from Betty Boop to Donald Trump to Obi-Wan Kenobi caught mid-poop. You're never too famous to squat, apparently.

Lunch Break: Paella-Sized Sangrias

After the tour, we headed to a paella spot our guide had recommended. It was... fine. Nothing special. The paellas were big, but honestly? The $5 sangria glasses were even bigger.

Rainstorm Detour and a Chocolate Revelation

Our walk back to the hotel took a turn when the skies opened up. We’re talking sideways rain, the kind that makes you question your life choices. We ducked into a tiny café, and that’s when we discovered drinking chocolate. Imagine the most decadent hot chocolate you’ve ever had. Now imagine it’s richer. Now imagine it’s so thick you need a spoon. We were in heaven. Barcelona could’ve flooded Noah-style outside and we wouldn’t have noticed.

Once the rain slowed to a tolerable drizzle, we made a run for it and waited out the rest of the storm at our hotel.

Dinner Adventures at Media Manga

For dinner, Evan found a few Infatuation-recommended spots and we tried our luck at Mont Bar. No dice. But they graciously led us next door to their sister restaurant, Media Manga, which turned out to be a delicious surprise. We tried a bunch of creative dishes—flavored oysters, tuna with clarified lettuce (?!), and even stingray for the first time. Neither of us loved the stingray. Texture-wise, it was giving "what if fish had anxiety" vibes. I might give it another shot someday in a smaller portion, but I’m not racing to reorder it.

Street Music and Crafty Karaoke

Post-dinner, we wandered through the Gothic Quarter again, this time under a dreamy night sky. The churches were beautifully lit, and the streets were filled with live music—outside one cathedral, a group of street musicians sang beautifully, and down a nearby corridor, three men were performing opera, their voices echoing off the stone walls. It was absolutely magical.

And because we weren’t ready to call it a night, we ended up at a bar called Craft, which had live band karaoke in the basement. We grabbed a table in the back, (next to some VERY drunk girls!) sang along with strangers, and on our way out, even met the owner—an American from Pittsburgh! 

Final Thoughts

On our walk home from Craft, we decided—naturally—that we needed to eat again. When in Rome (or, you know, Barcelona), right? I was convinced nothing would be open, so I marched into a convenience store and made Evan ask the owner if they had peanut butter. No dice. I begrudgingly settled on a box of cereal and some shelf-stable milk. Evan just shook his head, silently judging my snack decisions. But the joke was on me—right after we walked out and turned the corner, we ran straight into an open Popeyes. Guess the cereal and warm milk will have to wait.

All in all, it was an action-packed day filled with art, rain, delicious weirdness, and pooping figurines. Barcelona, you weird and wonderful gem—you’ve stolen our hearts (and maybe our digestive systems).