But not in Pedralbes:

If only shots were that cheap at my local.

All but one, now living in a back garden in c/ Sors, Barcelona.

“The Mahávansa and the Rájaratnákari state, that the king Walakanabhaya, or according to the latter work, Deveny Paetissa, caused the temple of a heathen named Girrie (doubtless Giri) to be destroyed, and caused to be constructed upon its site twelve temples consecrated to Sákya, which communicated with each other; and in the midst of which […]

Ferran Mascarell said a couple of months back that
Frankfurt perseguia tres objectius: millorar la presència de la literatura catalana en el món, entendre el paper fonamental de l’edició catalana amb els seus cinc segles d’història al darrere i ensenyar al món l’existència d’una cultura forta, plena i integral. El primer objectiu suposo que ha funcionat, […]

This example of hostelries unable to spell their own name is rather interesting because of the two signs Bar Morrisson is clearly older than Bar Morryssom. Does this mark a decline in Spanish literacy–they used to be able to spell it–or are they merely trying to please various orthographical markets? (Background: Spanish speakers find it […]

T Bell, MD, Kalogynomia, or the laws of female beauty (1821):
Professor Blumenbach of Göttingen, whose profound science and perfect impartiality no one can doubt, does not hesitate to say, that the English are the most beautiful people on the globe. Nor is this wonderful when we consider that ENGLAND, perhaps exclusively, presents the combination […]

It is slightly strange that this should surprise anyone, since Romance languages are notorious for their variation in the attribution of gender to nouns (Latin neuter -> almost universally Romance masculine, but you then get swaps, and doubling ups, and all kinds of mayhem in the various modern languages/dialects). One wonders whether the regional background […]

Thanks all for kind wishes. Cake under attack from fish:

Afterwards I got to go walkies, and chose one of the old junkie trails to Can Tunis, made vaguely notorious in rather different form (before they built the freaking motorway and destroyed the old port and beaches) in Juli Vallmitjana’s interesting (he helped Picasso get dirty) […]

Jewish mountain is currently hot favourite in Barcelona for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with the belief that this will attract well-off tourists from New York and Israel. Joan Amades says that at the end of the C19th, local sailors referred to gardens of St Bertrand as fossa del jueu, the Jewish grave, […]

I was wondering where it (and another landmark which I will post here as soon as I remember which it was) had gone to. Stefan Geens has the low-down, as usual. The ICC is on the mountain, so it’s not like they can have been unaware of it. Does this have something to do with […]

Does anyone happen to know where murderers were done away with at that stage? Some kind of reference would be most helpful.

Sez Damià Pons. (Thanks JD)

A short story “El lobo de las sierras” published in The new monthly magazine in 1851 evokes a typical day in the life of a British railway engineer on the Catalan coast (the Mataro-Barcelona line opened in 1848):
It was enough to have disquieted a man of stouter nerves than Tom, who, torn, stupid and intoxicated […]

“En plena disputa per les obres de l’AVE, que amenacen amb danyar l’estructura de la Sagrada Família, Manuel Otaño, un sacerdot jesuïta que treballa al Vaticà, torna a Barcelona per a supervisar les obres del projecte més ambiciós d’Antoni Gaudí. Aviat es veurà embolicat en una intriga que girarà entorn d’un manuscrit oposat que podria […]

The Catalan government continues to claim that public use of Catalan was prohibited during the dictatorship, but everyone sensible now agrees that this was not so, and that publishing in Catalan–which is what we are interested in today–was never banned.
Xavi Caballé today posted several lists estimating numbers of publications in Catalan (where?) for some […]

The window display is so abundant that it’s difficult to see inside, so it might have been the butcher himself singing this morning in the shop at Asturias 47, Gracia, Barcelona.

Here.

I imagine this bears the same relation in terms of intellectual property to Barcelona’s famous Bar Kentucky as Women’Secret does to Victoria’s Secret, but I’m not a twisted knickers expert, in public at least.

Some British pubs take their French rather literally:

Fellow hippies will know that if you stack your chips right on the day of the winter solstice and then chant a magic spell, the sun’s rays will fall in such a way as to create a shadow image of pretty much whichever megalithic construction you fancy.

“You speak Spanish?” he asked.
“No!” someone shouted out. “But he probably speaks Mexican!”

(In Barcelona, just in case you wondered.)

Dead playing pheasant (gamekeeper’s grave on the N estate in what used to be called Central Southern England before Labour, inspired by Norman Tebbit’s dad’s bicycle, decided to demolish the entire north and rebuild it in Southeast England, which unfortunately turned out to be a tad small for the exercise):

Keepers’ memorials like the above are […]

From David Miliband’s speech in Oxford yesterday: “Lee Kuan Yew, Singapore’s former prime minister, once characterised ‘Asian values’ as ‘a certain attitude towards life which raises the interest of the community above that of the individual.’” Welcome to Catalonia, mate.

Call me whatever you want, but that’s one flight we won’t be on tomorrow.

The long, narrow bar connects the folksy-chaotic gypsy street on one side of the block with the folksy-chaotic payo shopping street on the other. People walk through it from one side to the other without greeting the hick Pakistani tenant or any of his clients. Not that he cares in the least: he is off […]

[Mr Driver reminded me of the Canadian Hell’s Angel I once met in the back row of a BA flight from Heathrow to Vancouver. The hostesses made us drink all the whisky on the plane, and he ended up having some kind of reclining-seat-based scuffle with the guy in front. As we approached immigration, he […]

Mr Driver emerges from his lair and, after a brief conversation re our respective employment, says, “There’s half an hour to go before we leave, so why don’t I show you round town?” A rather attractive blonde is left standing, but 50 yards later Mr Driver’s antennae tell him that a slightly less attractive blonde/brunette […]

France’s finest trip over their own testicles once again, here alienating the trombone vote. Possibly.

(Mercy buckets, Dr Pete.) (Normal service to be resumed soon, so watch yer dirty mouth Manuel. Yes, you. They don’t call me Purple Boner for nothing.)

Unnerved by the publicity this year for La Romería de la Primera Sueca/The Pilgrimage of the First Swedish Totty, the committee decided to undertake a dry run dress rehearsal the day before. During this expedition the focus shifted from quality to quantity, with the unfortunate result that the entire committee found itself incapable of performing […]

Carnival as personal hygiene challenge:

My/Miss Tits, where I buy all my lingerie:

I hope one day they’ll bring out a catalogue.
No idea what’s up with Bambi’ss Golosinas