They walked out to the courtyard on the other side of the basilica, the light blinded them both, accustomed as they'd become to the dim, softly lit kaleidoscope of the interior.
Looking back to take in the façade, Delphine was the first to speak, fingers still entwined in Cosima. "You see, this side is very different, austere, sharp. It has so many influences, like the park, oui, this side is almost cubist."
"Yeah, totally, all hard edges and dark. There aren't really even facial features on the other figures, only Christ. I guess it is appropriate. Using the stone work, the style, to convey the subject, the crucifixion. It's a little grim for me though."
Pulling Delphine to the other side of the sculpture at the entrance, she pointed at a large square, broken into 16 smaller squares, 4x4, with numbers carved within. "Ohhh cool, this is a magic square," she said, silently counting the numbers across and down, "Any way you add, it always comes to 33. The age of Christ at the crucifixion, I think? Hmm."
"Many little details all throughout, no? Do you want to continue to look around? I think there is a visitor's center below," she said looking down at the pamphlet, "it explains a lot of the history, and there is a small chapel out back," she said pointing.
All Cosima could think was that nowhere in this madhouse would give them enough privacy to talk, to explore the growing connection between them.
"Um, I," as she fumbled for words, her free hand took over, waving circles of indecision, nerves. "Maybe, is there somewhere we could go that's more quiet, talk? I love it here, but the crowd is getting to me a bit." A total lie, Cosima thought, I just want to look at you without any distractions.
Delphine lit up with a smile, "Oui, there is a small square, not far from here, right by a little church. There are some benches there. And there are usually some street performers. Maybe I can get you your guitar performance before dinner."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
They set out from La Sagrada Familia, Delphine leading the way, Cosima with no clue as to their location in the city, their orientation to sea, the train, the airport, she was just following, contentedly.
"This is the way I should have been seeing Europe from the start," Cosima said brightly.
"What is that? What do you mean?"
"Oh, like, with a local friend as guide, showing me all the cool spots … lilting out historical details in French," she squeezed the blonde's hand, still lightly entwined in hers as they walked through the city.
"Lilting?" Delphine asked, lips curving up in a smile.
"Yes, you totally lilt. It's adorable …. Where are we going anyway?"
"I thought we would head more into Barri Gotic, the Old Town. My favorite restaurant is there, though it will not open for some time, but also many beautiful old squares and churches. There are also … uh … there is a word in English I can't remember … where young artists live, their rent is a bit less?"
"A collective," Cosima raised her eyebrows.
"Yes, I think that is it. An art collective, but also the area is just tolerant of artists. It is vivant," she said, twirling her hand in the air.
As they walked through the streets, Cosima noticed the small avenues and shops - similar to many of the European cities she'd visited the past month - give way to centuries-old stone, water-stained and dark, passages narrowing, a closed-in, damp feel even in the heat of the afternoon.
They passed boutiques and food stalls, bakeries and futbol shops, all nestled in plazas and squares, churches often the focal point. It was clear this area was both lived-in and a draw for tourists. They walked leisurely for some time, the tall woman seemingly guiding them to a specific destination. Cosima was surprised when Delphine drew quickly to a stop, a smile on her face as she breathed in deeply.
"What? I miss something?" Cosima mused, looking around.
"This ... this place has the best truffles." They were stopped just outside the Jaume metro stop,
Cosima testing out the name in her head - How-mey? Jeax-mey? Joe-may? – How had she not noticed the pastry shop or the official Barca futbol shop across the way. Now aware, she saw a line around the corner for tickets, presumably, though the first game wasn't for a few weeks. She looked at the shop the blonde was staring at now, noticed the name emblazoned in gold in the window: Dolceria De La Colmena.
"Oh yeah, truffles, huh?" She lightly pinched the woman's hip. "You wanna get some now? I could try some of your favorites?" Something about this beautiful, elegant blonde loving truffles completely tickled her.
"Non," though the look on her face belied the certainty in her voice. "It is still hot out now, and they may not last. But, best truffles outside of France," she said as she pointed.
"Let's stop in! We can eat them now! Before they melt. I want to know what all the fuss is about."
She was thoroughly amused at how the other woman seemed to be equivocating.
"The … fuss?" she said as she lightly shook her head.
"Oh, um, like, I want to know what is so good about these truffles that you stopped, dead in the street, and sort of had a fit," she pinched the blonde's hip again, grinning.
"Oui, it is worth … the fuss."
As they walked in, the sweet, cloying smell of chocolate and burnt brown sugar met them, overwhelming the brunette in the small space.
"I defer to you here, Frenchie, whatever you think we should try. But I would like one or two of these," Cosima pointed at milk chocolate peanut clusters.
"Oui," Delphine said, clearly unamused, eyes nearly rolling. She quickly pointed out several truffles to the clerk, knowing exactly what she wanted. Cosima was particularly taken with the white chocolate heart, seemingly filled with raspberry ganache. Delphine ordered four.
"I thought you said these might melt," Cosima said gesturing to the large packet of truffles.
"I can't help myself. I start ordering, and I just want to taste all of them at once. It is a vice. But they are delicious … and as you say, when in Barcelona …"
They kept walking, crossing two or three large avenues until they came to an area with several small alleys jutting off from the main avenue, Via Laietana. The old stones down each alleyway were colored with graffiti of all shades and styles, mostly in Spanish, Cosima couldn't make out their meaning. But the juxtaposition was startling, and beautiful, clearly some of the work had been commissioned, or was welcomed, gracing the walls every ten yards or so as far as she could see.
"We are here. Plaça dels Traginers." The alleyway opened to the right into a large square between two long apartment buildings, a painter, a lone violinist, and what seemed to be a palm reader posted up in the shade of the trees along one of the buildings.
"Oh, this is so cool. It reminds me of some small streets in San Fran, though much flatter, older."
"Oui, no guitar, but, we can listen to some strings at least."