Barcelona!

8 July 2008- After an uneventful and 7 hour (yes 7 hour) train ride, we were all anxious to see Barcelona. We split from our Austin contingent who had a hotel room awaiting them. 8 of us metro-ed to our rental apartment. A lovely company had an even lovelier apartment to sleep 12 if you included the couches. There was a tie as which amentity was the best- having 3 bathrooms, WiFi or the washing machine. Chad being the ever good camp boy, went out for fridge stocking and returned home with cava. Cava is the Spanish version of champagne. A quick shot of that down the throat and out for dinner we went. Of course with 8 folks, we quickly had to pass several places based on space. We settled for a tapas restaurant. After lots of hemming and hawwing, the waiter took control and brought us a variety of everything. I mean everything. Potatoes, bread, shrimp, squid, squid in ink, salads, beef, fries, paella and the list goes on. We finally had real sangria made in a pitcher rather than a carton. Esta como nunca!
A smaller contingent set out the next morning for some seakayaking off the Costa Brava region just north of Barcelona. Our guide Saskia (or something similar) was a german woman who knew perfect english, spanish, german and understanding catalan. We all got some exercise, some sun and some fantastic pictures of the beaches, caves and water of the Mediterranean. For most of us, this was our first european beach. Plenty of speedos on old men, sagging topless sun bathers, and some even-pastier-than-Chad Brits due for some sun.

It was on this leg of the trip we were exposed to the ferocity of the Catalan people to retain their independence. I knew to expect it from the Basque, that language looks so odd I wouldn't even attempt to pronouce it. Irkeerta was exit in Basque for an example. Anyways I digress. The Catalan influence has been present since the middle ages with some snags in the 18th century when Spain did defeat the Catalan army. Franco kept them under wraps and it has only been since his death, all the Catalans came out. Every sign in Barcelona is in Catalan, Spanish and english. Really, all that money on signage. Chad saw "Free Catalan" in graffiti. When one of the guys tried to inquire about a Pamplona paper for a picture scan, he was told "That is a Spanish paper." Start with some Hola, run some franish (french and spanish mix) and hope for the best.
We finally got to sleep in one morning. Thank you God! We were the old folks on the trip and usually in bed by the latest 11H30. Yo tengo sueno. Minus one, we ventured to La Rambla which is Catalan for TOURIST TRAP. Really beautiful promenade of pedestrian path with the street along the edge. Very nice if not a direct shot from the cruise boat pier, full of street performers and otherwise shifty looking people. This is where they tell you to hang on to your purse and wallet. I didn't feel the need, but then again I was travelling with what must of looked like the USA men's volleyball team. 6'8" to 6'. We ladies must have looked pretty pimp walking around with them. We rode the cable car over the bay to Montjuic, home to the 1992 Olympics. It was so odd. The area, stadium and pool were covered in feral cats. Not pigeons, kitty cats. One of the guys touched one and I was quick to bust out the hand santizer. We encountered a Harley Davidson festival. Kind of didn't fit with the architecture of Barcelona but hey, Colombus was a rebel so the city has it in it.

We stopped for a well deserved lunch and as it was Thursday (traditionally Paella day), most of us went with tradition. So good to eat it fresh and hot. Mine was seafood only. I don't need no stinking chicken and sausage, not this close to the ocean. We followed up with a stop off at Gaudi's masterpiece yet unfinished, Sagrada Familia church. This place is so insane. It looks as if it is made of wax melting with intricate statues detailing the Passion, Nativity and other saintly images. It is now only bankrolled by donations. We all gladly paid the entrance fee and elevator fee. Of course we did, I was the only non-engineer at this point. It will allegedly be completely by 2030 and it will be imposing and even more impressive. My cellphone updated to a picture of it when I crossed the border at Irun. Chad and the other folks were definitely checking out the construction, codes and other technical features.


There was an injury at this point. Not sure about any details of how, why or exactly when it happened. I woke up Friday morning with a sore pointer toe on my left foot. I mean throbbing pain. I had some how managed to lose the nail. The toe nail. Yikes! That lets any readers know that I was well anesthetized the night before, wink wink. I found a bloody footprint in the bathroom and my shoes were stained and even Chad's shoes were stained. Yes even Chad at the same level of anesthesia since we danced together. That would be second time we have danced in almost 5 years. We spent the better part of the day in bed sleeping. Our crew was to be down to 3 but due to some more overdosage of anesthesia, the Austin contingent found themselves waiting for the later train, oops. They came over to the grand apartment and slept away the day as well. Bad for us, we had received a discount on the deal since there was construction in the building. Only during work hours, not a huge deal right? But that Friday with almost every bed still full, not too much fun to hear drilling, pounding, and maybe even a jack hammer. Still better than the cold tile of train station.
Finally we were down to three, a very slow moving three but we still made it out for one last meal of tapas. No sangria this time and plenty of agua, keep 'em coming. We packed and left the Queen's flat (really its advertising name) and caught the train headed for Narbonne then Carcassonne, France.