The mere mention of the word “museum” sends my culture-starved teens into a frenzy. After numerous failed attempts at taking them to museums and exhibitions, I racked my brains for a more palatable way to expose them to Catalonian culture, settling on cycling and a teen obsession – food.
Our cycling adventure started at the Olympic port in Barcelona, where, accompanied by Julio, our charming guide from Gaudi Bike Tours, we mounted e-bikes and set off to conquer Gaudi’s highlights. On passing the Columbus monument, Julio explained how Christopher Columbus came to be a Barca fan, when in 2013 he sported the football team’s shirt as part of an advertising campaign, costing Nike 100,000 euros.
Over 300 kilometers of cycling lanes sprawl across Barcelona, most of which are flat, but the ride to Montjuic (Mountain of the Jews) was anything but flat, and our e-bikes came in handy as we snaked our way up to the top for a panoramic view of the city. The site of a medieval Jewish cemetery, Montjuic now serves as a cultural and arts venue hosting the likes of Coldplay and Bruce Springsteen.
From Montjuic we whizzed downhill, continuing to pastel-colored Casa Batllo, where architect meets Alice in Wonderland. Modeled on the story of Sant Jordi (St. George) and the Dragon, the rooftop tiles echo the dragon’s scales, and the façade, featuring Sant Jordi’s sword, replicates the bones and skulls of the dragon’s victims and the princess’s balcony.
Catalonian Cycling
Our next stop was Casa Mila with its wave-like windows, designed as a private residence for Pere Mila and his wife. The façade, built out of limestone and stone, resembles a stone quarry, and the warrior-like chimneys protruding from the rooftop terrace were a sight to behold.
The tour ended with the iconic Sagrada Familia church. Under construction since 1882, the final tower should be completed in 2026. By now, the boys had their fill of architecture for the day, so we headed to Ciutat Comtal for a mouthwatering selection of tapas, including beef tenderloin, mini hamburgers; cannelloni; patatas bravas, a fried potato dish served with a spicy tomato-based sauce and aioli sauce; and crema catalana, a custard topped with a crust of caramelized sugar.
The following day we boarded the bus to Serinya, a pastoral village in the province of Girona. Gareth from Hotel Mas Pelegri welcomed us at the bus stop, driving us to the beautiful Pilgrim House he and his wife Fiona had restored, turning it into a cycling hub. In the morning, we downloaded Strava to access the cycling routes, and Gareth, an expert cycling coach, set us up on trail bikes. Off we went on the Via Verda (Greenway), an old railway line converted into a path for cyclists, with the kids as our trusted navigators.
With numerous routes at our doorstep, each day we cycled 25-30 km through countryside and lush forests, passing rolling meadows carpeted with purple flowers, sunflower fields, and medieval villages, and refueling at local restaurants for lunch. The lakeside town of Banyoles provided a refreshing swim, followed by juicy burgers crafted from organic meat at Can Pericus. Another route led us along the River Fluvia, from where we hiked to a cave tucked away inside a cliff, housing the remains of a Gothic church. We then continued to Besalu, a medieval town boasting a magnificent 12th-century Romanesque bridge, but the kids were more impressed with the buffet fit for a king at Castell Besalu.
At Fiona’s recommendation we visited Can Ginebreda, located in the middle of a forest in Porqueres. This open-air museum displays more than 100 erotic works of artist Xicu Cabanyes, made from materials ranging from stone to scrap metal. The kids strolled happily among the oaks, pines, and junipers, eager to discover what breast, buttocks, and phallic or vulvar form awaited around the next corner.
Museums are better with full stomachs
On day four, my back started protesting, so we abandoned our cycling plans and rented a car in Girona to visit two of Dali’s museums, accidentally stumbling on Nimh’s, a popular local restaurant. There, the boys tucked into a huge platter of beef steak with chips, salad, and a fried egg for only 7.50 euros.
Our acquaintance with Dali started at his house in Port Lligat, overlooking the tranquil bay dotted with fishing boats. “Apart from the eggs on the roof, it looks like any other house here,” my son stated flatly, but the stuffed polar bear at the entrance intimated otherwise. Passing the library, our guide explained that all the items displayed were originals apart from the books and stuffed swans, which were housed in the Dali Theater-Museum. “How will we know what books were in the library if we don’t go there?” my son asked jokingly.
In retrospect, two museums in one day wasn’t the best idea. The kids sat in the courtyard of the Dali Theater-Museum refusing to budge, while my husband and I braved the crowds, gazing in awe at the ceiling painting of Dali and his wife, Gala, and the 3D-design face of Hollywood movie star Mae West made of a lip-shaped sofa, paintings for eyes, and a blonde wig.
Back in Barcelona, we checked into the elegantly decorated Casagrand Luxury Apartments. With no shortage of bedrooms, the kids were thrilled to have their own rooms. After a physically exhausting holiday, the puffy pillows, couches you can flop into, and luxury body products were more than welcome. My 16-year-old son felt so at home that he forfeited his ticket to Park Güell, staying at the hotel instead. The gym and the enticing rooftop pool won over battling the heat and mobs waiting to be photographed with Gaudi’s famous salamanders.
The Barcelone not taken
Our last day was spent cycling around the lesser known neighborhoods of Barcelona with the lovely Bella from Steel Donkey Tours at the helm. She safely guided us through the narrow alleys of La Barceloneta, once a fishing village, to the imposing Santa Maria del Mar church, where we discovered why one of its stained-glass windows holds the Barca emblem. As we passed the beachfront, my son couldn’t resist stopping for a minute to join the locals at the open-air gym before continuing to trendy El Born, where Picasso once resided. Park Ciutadella, formerly a military fort, provided a welcome stop as we fed the winged locals and munched on samosas from an Indian vendor. After a fun-filled four hours, we returned to the port to meet Fede, an expert foodie from Barcelona Food Tours.
Fede accompanied us to some of his favorite tapas bars, passionately explaining the intricacies of partaking in Catalonian cuisine. “Tapas are traditionally eaten with your hands, and they’re for sharing,” he explained after entering Vidrios Cristales, a bodega (wine cellar) stacked with products from the Basque province in northern Spain.
In Spain, it’s customary to meet before the meal for a drink and olives, so my husband and I had our first taste of Vermouth, a tantalizing aromatic wine blended with herbs and spices, and Txakolina, a white wine produced only in the Basque country. We also sampled tortilla de patatas (omelette made with potatoes), mojama made from cured tuna, and champignons (mushrooms) coated in Txakolina.
Renowned for its pintxos (tapas on sticks, charged per stick), Euskal Etxea (Basque House) offered an assortment of scrumptious bread based tapas topped with garnishes like salmon, cheese with spinach and carrots, meat croquettes, and mini-hamburgers. At Nou Celler, we made our own pan con tomato, a practice that originated in the mountains to make use of dried-out bread. My son skillfully rubbed his bread with garlic and tomato, and then sprinkled it with olive oil. A delicious spread of tapas followed – pumpkin croquettes, crispy eggplant chips fried with honey, and spicy patatas bravas.
As we washed down the tapas with cava and red wine from Mon Sant, a wine-producing region in Catalonia, Fede introduced us to the tradition of drinking wine from a porrón – a glass bottle with a pointed spout, originally used by peasants who couldn’t afford glasses.
The kids watched in amusement as my husband and I took turns attempting to drink without the spout touching our lips.
Fede instructed us to lower the porrón in line with our noses, lift our heads back, and aim for our open mouths. ”If it goes into your nose, it means you’re a bad person,” he chuckled. “If it goes into your eyes, you’re a very bad person.” Thankfully, neither of us spilled a drop!
Sadly, I realized my kids weren’t potential art lovers or architecture buffs, but at least the names Dali and Gaudi were no longer foreign to them, and food wasn’t only about eating. I was pleasantly surprised to discover how savvy they became at navigating the city and the countryside and following instructions in Catalan, so that everything from ordering food from a digital menu to purchasing metro tickets from a vending machine seemed effortless. Kudos to my teens for that!