gaudy or gaudi?

Today was my Gaudi day. Everyday is my gaudy day.

A visit to Barcelona has almost become synonymous with a visit to Gaudi's architectural pieces, so that was my focus today. As I am not an expert in architecture, nor can I retain any historical data in my brain for longer than a day (sometimes less), I will not embarrass myself with any sort of pretense in understanding his art. However, what I can say that his work is one-of-a-kind and leaves an everlasting impression; therefore, by my definition of an artist, he has succeeded.

A quick internet search told me that the word gaudy dates back to 1582. I wonder if there is any correlation between the adjective and his name.

I took advantage of my trip on foot to Gaudi's various buildings to get lost. Please notice how I made getting lost sound almost intentional. I was generously awarded gastronomically. My yet-unfulfilled mission in search of amazing culinary satifaction in Barcelona came to an end.

I had visited a few travel guide-recommended tapas restaurants in the city, but none were spectacular. Today I wondered as I wandered, and I came across this little restaurant on a random street near Sagrada Familia. I ordered fried calamari and tripe. I almost died.

The tripe was braised with chunks of pork that were mostly just fat. It was an amazing combination. They must raise pigs differently in Spain. Why is it Americans insist on engineering our food to make them tasteless, unhealthy globs of nonsense is beyond me. I had never had pork fat like this - chewy, not greasy, with tons of flavor. I devoured both servings of food, short of licking every bit of juice off the utensils and plates. I wanted to cry.

I don't know if the six hours of walking I did today was enough to balance the amount of food I ate, but I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

I'm praying my heart will beat for a long time to come.