The Samba down La Rambla

Greetings from the home of the European Champions!

What a game and what a night! With a dramatic come-from-behind victory, FC Barcelona sent this city into a frenzy last night. I have never seen such widespread celebrating in my entire life. Everyone on every street was dancing and singing.

Kate and I watched the game at one of our favorite pubs here in Barrio Gothico, amid throngs of singing and chanting FCB fans. There were some amazingly tense moments in the second half of the game as the faithful were starting to consider the possibility of FCB falling to a 10-man Arsenal squad, but when Eto'o finally broke through with the opening goal, relief settled in. Then when Belletti netted the winner four minutes later, Barcelona erupted into sheer pandemonium.

A few of my takes on the action on the field and some of the referee's dubious calls...

1. Every referee blows calls, you only hope those blown calls don't have an impact on the result of the game. The Norwegian man in the middle last night wasn't that lucky. All his mistakes seem to big huge ones. That being said, I found it very disappointing to see the likes of Thierry Henry taking shots at the referee and saying he cost them the game.

2. To Arsenal fans lamenting Eto'o goal because he appeared to be just a wee bit offside, I urge you to consider the goal the referee took away from FCB with his quick whistle on Jens Lehmann's red-card foul. Everyone watching the game knew he should have let play continue and allowed the goal. The referee himself even came out after the game and told the newspapers he blew the call.

3. On top of that, take a close look at the "foul" that led to Sol Campbell's fabulous goal for Arsenal. What a fantastic dive by Eboue.

4. Thierry Henry cried after the game over little fouls that weren't being called. Anyone else find it quite ironic that an English Premier League team would be the ones whining about the rough play of a Spanish La Liga team?

5. Henry's yellow card was an atrocious call by the referee.

6. Frank Rijkaard's substitutions sure make him look a genius. Henrik Larsson steps on the pitch, and in his farewell performance for FCB, sets up BOTH goals. Meanwhile, inserting Juliano Belletti into the game allowed the Brazilian to score the game-winner.

Despite all the action on the field, my greatest memories of the night come from the celebrating here in Barcelona after the game. La Rambla was literally slammed with wall-to-wall people. We couldn't even make our way from our apartment to Plaza Catalunya. Those of you who have visited us know that means we are talking about a serious amounts of humanity. However, the enormous crowd ended up being a stroke of good luck for us.

Determined to make it to Plaza Catalunya, Kate and I cut through the tiny twisting streets of our neighborhood in Barrio Gothico. Halfway to Plaza Catalunya, we encountered a drum corp consisting of nothing but local boys, not a one of them older than probably 15. These kids were busting out an awesome samba beat and just walking through the Barrio on their way to La Rambla. Aside from the eight or so drummers, the only people really walking with them at this point were their parents and few revelers who had taken to dancing along right in front or behind the drum procession.

It was such a cool scene that it was a no-brainer for Kate and I to scrap our Plaza Catalunya objective and turn around to join the samba brigade. It didn't take long for just about everyone the brigade passed to turn around and join the fun. As we neared La Rambla, even the revelers on that crazy boulevard shifted their attention to us.

When we reached La Rambla, the kids turned the brigade left and we spent the next hour entranced in a magical samba down the boulevard toward the Christopher Columbus statue near the harbor. Our group, which once numbered just a dozen or so, swelled to hundreds, maybe even a thousand as the masses parted so we could pass through. As colorful flares lit up the sky, casting misty red shadows on all the buildings along La Rambla, people came out on their balconies to bask in the glow of an FCB championship and soak in the music from our little drummer boys.

This season has left me with too many incredible memories about FCB to count. But the Samba down La Rambla is right up there near the top of the list.

Now that FCB's season has come to a close, Kate and I are convinced being here during this season is one of the more charmed strokes of good fortune we've experienced. Starting with the free tickets to the Chelsea game and ending with the Samba down La Rambla, we couldn't have asked for a more miraculous time than our FC Barcelona McVenture.

Game Time

Well tonight is the night.

Barcelona and Arsenal square off tonight in Paris. The city of Barcelona is already going bonkers in anticipation of what should be an amazing game. I even saw my parents off on their flight to Paris this morning amid an airport full of Blue and Red clad FCB supporters bound for the City of Light. Oh, and did I mention that was at 5 AM this morning!

While I think FCB is loaded this year and could be one of the better teams assembled in recent memory, I think anyone predicting an FCB cakewalk may be getting a bit ahead of themselves. Some have even gone so far as to call the FCB-AC Milan semi-final the real final. Implying neither Arsenal nor Villarreal could possibly have what it takes to win it all. To those people, I have two simple words.

Thierry Henry.

A Frenchman ... leading Arsenal's dream run to the final ... playing in what could be his last game for the club ... head-to-head against Ronaldinho, the only forward who people could claim is better than him ... in one game ... for all the marbles ... IN PARIS!

I would never bet against a guy like that in a situation like this.

In fact, while all the media have focused on the clash between Spain's best team and one of England's best teams, I think it will be the French who have a profound impact before the night is done. The last time a major championship was decided in the Stade de France, a certain Frenchman with the initials ZZ became a legend by besting Brazil for two goals in a World Cup Final. Don't be surprised if Henry, Robert Pires or Giuly rise to the occasion with similar results.

So while I will definitely be rooting for my adopted home team, something tells me a classic is in the cards regardless of the victor.

A Wee Irish Weekend

You never miss the water till the well has run dry.
--- Irish proverb




So true! We should all feel grateful for at least one thing at the end of every day – even if it's only for the water!

Right now, I feel grateful for many things, actually. Especially because Sean and I got to spend last weekend in Ireland with our friend Jennifer Boyle and her lovely family. She lives in Glenbeigh, which is a tiny village seated on the south side of the mouth of Dingle Bay in County Kerry. By tiny, I mean everyone there knows or is related to everyone else there due to the three pubs and the church, which make excellent gossip stations. In Jennifer's house were also her mother Mary, daughter Caoimhe (pronounced Kiva), age 7 and baby son Fionn, age 6 mos.

We flew from Barcelona to Shannon on Friday and picked up a rental car. Driving in Ireland is quite entertaining enough, as it's done on the wrong side of the car and road! Sean did all the work, and I was his trusty assistant yelling, "keep left!" whenever appropriate. Appropriate, meaning, at all times.

The 3-hour drive was gorgeous as we passed rollicking hillsides the shade of emerald green, newborn lambs and sheep spotting them like daisies. A lazy horse lay down with limbs and neck sprawled out for maximum sun exposure, looking quite drunk. Birds were everywhere, chirping. It was like we'd stepped into the Bambi movie during the scene when all the little creatures are born in springtime.

We finally arrived to Jen's house around 6pm, and she had oodles of Chianti and food for us. We spent our first night chatting with her, playing with the kids and watching the DVD, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Caoimhe gave us an exact interpretation of the Oompa Loompa dance, which was lovely.

On Saturday morning we drove down to Burke’s Equestrian Center and went on a lovely "trek" down on the beach astride two HUGE Irish Draught horses. Mine was Paddy and Sean's was Harvey. We trotted down the narrow road to the beach and went walking in the ocean up to the horses' bellies. Harvey stopped at one point with Paddy close behind and nearly dropped his road apples on my leg! (Never forget, the sea is full of everything.) We took an hour's ride, and by the time our ride was over, Sean had really finessed the art of posting. (Posting is what riders do during the trot in English-style riding. It's the up-down-up-down motion.) For what it's worth, I should probably mention here, that Sean put a lot of, mm, pelvis in his posting.

Later Saturday, we had a nice lunch at Jennifer's friend Jackie's cafe and then took a drive up to a beautiful secluded lake in the mountains. The lake is as pristine as it is silent, and the only other beings we saw there were two backpackers and about 100 sheep that seemed rather bothered by our existence.

Saturday night we hit the town with Jen and her girlfriends Jackie and Gina. Sean was the token male, and he did all right! Jen treated us to a lovely dinner in Kilorglin (the next village over from Glenbeigh) at a place called the Top Deck. Then, the five of us went on a pub crawl. All the pubs were stuffed with Irish revelers drinking pints of Guinness and Harp. I had overeaten my seafood dinner, so I steered clear of Guinness. Sean, however, took the challenge and consumed about 10 thousand calories – just like the best of 'em! That night, with the girls, we got to hear about all the goings on between the two villages. It was a good reminder that even in small towns, big news is a daily occurrence. This type of story-telling and gossip-swapping appealed to the journalistic sides of me and Sean, and we were thoroughly entertained to hear all about it. We left Kilorglin at nearly 1 AM and took a cab back to Glenbeigh. Sean proceeded in going out longer (after hours) with Jackie, who was bent on meeting up with her husband (so she wouldn't miss anything) at a pub called The Towers, right down the road from Jen's house.

The next morning, Sean told me that when he walked into The Towers with Jackie, he felt every eye in the room turn on him, wondering who that man was with John's wife! But, he said, once word spread that he was a friend of Jenny's up the road, it only took moments to have more pints handed to him as welcome gifts. John told him that he would be tomorrow's gossip at church. Needless to say, Sean rolled in around 3:30AM, smelling quite ripe I do say!

Sunday we lounged. The weather that had been gloriously sunny had turned to the mythical mist that is just so quintessentially Ireland. We took a little drive into Killarney (my favorite Irish city) and had lunch. There was something called the Rally Races taking place in the area the whole weekend, which made the narrow roadways jam up like L.A. freeways on a Friday afternoon. Rally Races, we learned, are basically back-road car races run by hooligans driving supped up Porches and Mini Coopers. It seemed pretty crazy to me because from what I could tell, the races took place on the same roads that residents use – with virtually no designations or signage. The only time something like that would happen in America is never. But we managed to avoid having a head-on with a rally car, and made it into Killarney safely, albeit a bit slowly.

Sunday night, Jen fixed us a lovely dinner and then we had to hit the road back to Shannon. Our flight Monday morning to Barcelona was early, so we stayed in a B&B near the airport.

I hope I was able to convey a slice of life in Ireland the way we experienced it last weekend. For an island country of hardly more than 3 million souls, Ireland is full of mythic places, jolly folk and now, a thriving economy. In fact, we learned that Ireland has the fastest-growing economy in the EU. It's quite obvious, actually, by the construction and development we saw in nearly every village. Good for the Irish! In fact, we heard that an immigration reversal has begun. From American cities with histories of Irish immigrants in search of better life like Boston, Chicago and New York, the Irish are returning to Ireland where work is aplenty and boom is abound. To the Irish who helped America grow, I say thank you. To the Irish who are coming back home to help Ireland grow, I say, "Slainte!"

---- Kate

To view all our photos from Ireland (with the added bonus of an assortment of Spain photos thrown in) click here: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2106804605