Guide to surviving in Barcelona

Three years ago, I lived in Barcelona for several months. I moved there to begin writing a novel about the city. I jotted down my first impressions of it in an old journal: culture shock. I thought I'd share them with you today. Perhaps they'll help friends of yours who want to visit the city for the first time.

A first floor is often a third floor, as you have to add the mezzanine and the main floor. Pharmacy crosses can be red. Subway doors close very quickly, and the lady on the loudspeaker shouts a lot. There are dog grooming salons all over the city, but none for humans: "Perruqueria Ella," "Perruquería Montserrat"… Between surnames, if you add a Latin i, you're more from here: Uclés i Vílchez.

There are more souvenir shops and frozen paella shops than there are residents. The metro is hotter than in Écija. A Brazilian mother who has lived here for fifty years would never name her son Pau. For Halloween, they celebrate the "castañada" (a traditional Spanish chestnut festival), like in Galicia and Plasencia... and they bake some half-cooked marzipan that's delicious.

When you tick to enter the metro, sometimes they tell you to go on the right and other times on the left; a real hassle. You can lift your feet off the ground and be left hanging in any commuter train car; there are so many people standing that the passengers' bodies support you. You can't apply for Barcelona citizenship until you've spent more than an hour and a half stuck in one of these Rodalies.

The central tower of the Sagrada Família is disrupting the city's skyline. Many don't like it. I don't like it. Ninety-eight percent of the Catalans I spoke to have never climbed Tibidabo. I once walked into a shop with excitement because they were selling something called "pit de pollastre" (a type of chicken soup); I was sorely disappointed.

I wrote down my first impressions of the city in an old diary, perhaps it will help your friends.

The "bikini" dish sounds very exotic, but it's a simple mixed sandwich. Breadcrumbs are called "farina de galeta" (bakery flour); since I didn't know that, I tried making a cake with it and ended up with reinforced concrete. My hair gets frizzy from the humidity; I look like Lola Herrera. Only foreigners like Poble Espanyol.

They speak to me in Catalan and I respond in Andalusian, and we understand each other perfectly. The term "chamfer" really bothers me, and I don't like it; it makes me dizzy. Gaixample is like Chueca, but with men in speedos leaning on those damn chamfers.

I once called to ask about yoga classes; the sign said "Es lloga." They laughed at me! Don't do that. Many Galician restaurants are run by Asians; I ordered some Padrón rolls and a triple-delicacy octopus.

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Taxis are black and aren't too expensive to travel in. Barcelona residents love acronyms: UB, UOC, MACBA, CCCB, UIC, ESIC, EASD... And finally, something everyone knows: tap water tastes like Paracetamol Junior. If Ayuso tries it, she'll burn X.