Jlogging

Some strapping young gentleman, who shall remain nameless, asked me if I was journaling or blogging? I guess the past few entries have been more journal style. Although, to be honest, I´m not entirely sure I know the difference. That´s why I´ve decided to coin the phrase "joggling." True, I am giving you a run down of my day, but I´m certainly not withholding my opinion, which I imagine is what primarily separates a blog from a journal. But, obviously, those of you who know me (which is everyone reading this blog), are aware of the fact I have no problem giving you my two cents, whether your asked for it or not. Heck, even if you asked me to NOT give my opinion, I usually find it just too hard to resist.

I had my capuccino and croissant con chocolat this morning. My two roommates are very cute girls from Canada. One is studying abroad in Copenhagen and the other is teaching Spanish for a year in a small village. There was a third roommate in the room this morning that was not there when I went to bed last night. Not too sure if it´s a man or a woman. I thought I was in a female only room, but the leg that was hanging off the bunk bed, dangling in my face this morning was definitely hairy and it sounded like there was a leaf blower on in the bed above me. But, hey, it´s Europe, so who knows.

I went to Casa Battlo today, a private home who owners commissioned Gaudi to redesign it. He never used straight lines for any of the architecture or furniture, everything was curved. He was inspired by the curves seen in nature, many of them reminiscent of the sea and sea shore. This form was fairly typical of Catalan nouveau art. He also used forms similar to feminine body parts. This eroticism was possibly a reflection of Gaudi´s one true passion, architecture. Finally, the outside of the house was covered in murals, also aquatic in theme. He created the mural from pieces of broken ceramic tiles from demolished buildings. He was recycling before the word was even invented!

Right now, I´m sitting at Brown, a trendy restaurant on the Passeig de Gracia, akin to Paris´Champs Elysees. I´ve been relatively frugal with my dining choices thus far. However, I knew I was going to treat myself to one nice restaurant while in Spain, and when I passed by Brown and saw burrata on the menu as well as foie gras pizza, I knew had found my soul mate.

I was introduced to burrata cheese when I was living in Miami after my first year of medical school, doing research at the Miami Cure for Paralysis. Burrata cheese is a type of mozarella cheese, stretched, and stuffed with creme fraiche. The burrata I had today was drizzled with truffle oil and served with fresh tomatoes and arugula. It´s about as rich as you can get, as far as mozarella is concerned, and is a creamy heaven in your mouth. (Yes, Lindsey, I know,"thats what she said." Sorry dad, inappropriate.) Anyway, after eating burrata once, and having the addictive personality that I do, I began ordering burrata in every restaurant I went to while in Miami. I must say, the burrata I had today, was the best I have ever tried. The foie gras pizza was not so bad either, though it was more like pate than foie gras. Its amazing how much joy the culinary pleasures in life can bring you.