Barcelona
Okay, I’ll admit it. Barcelona is mostly a blur. We arrived late and after spending an hour trying to find our friend S. in the airport, who flew in from England to meet us for the weekend, we were ready for a drink. Finding S. was like living in a bad Laurel and Hardy sketch.
Me: Where are you?
S: In front of the coffee shop next to the tourist office.
Me: I’m in front of the coffee shop next to the tourist office.
S: No you’re not, because I’m there.
Me: Well, I can’t see you, so you must not be there.
S: But I am here.
Me: So am I. So where are you?
I kid you not, this conversation went on for thirty minutes. At the end of the day, we were BOTH in front of the coffee sohp next to the tourist office. In different terminals. The two terminals were so far away that you had to take a 10 minute bus ride to get from one to the other. And no one would let us take a taxi to go get her, even though we needed a taxi to get to town anyway. But logic wasn’t working on the airport taxi line, so after boarding the bus and FINALLY finding S (who was in front of the coffee shop next to the tourist office), we grabbed a taxi and safely got to the hotel. Only to find out that our room was flooded. So the hotel moved us off to another one of its locations and, despite our reservations (the hotel was surrounded by buildings covered in graffiti – I was afraid we were in Barcelona’s version of Camden), headed off for lunch.
It was also the day of the Netherlands-Brazil game; in fact, it was a weekend of World Cup quarter finals. After deciding that walking around in blazing afternoon heat wasn’t the best idea, the three of us found an Irish bar and commenced watching soccer. For the next six hours. It was awesome! And that was day 1 in Barcelona. Well, there was the slight crisis when J. and S. thought I was following them to McDonald’s and I thought they were following me to the hotel, so there was a quick moment of panic while we were separated (hey, I thought we were staying in the ghetto, so you can’t blame me for being concerned). But they showed back up at the hotel safe and sound and only a few minutes behind me, so crisis averted!
We did decide that Day 2 deserved some touring and it was then that we realized we weren’t staying in the Barcelona ghetto; we were less than two blocks from Las Ramblas, the most famous street in Barcelona. And for some reason, the pictures I took on Las Ramblas didn’t come out, so I can’t show you the incredible food market we found! Filled with meat, fish, bread, fruit, and a bunch of places you could sit and have tapas, the market was Barcelona’s version of Reading Terminal, but brighter. The whole thing was surreal: whole sides of ham hanging from hooks, shopkeepers hawking fruit you’ve never seen before, life lobsters scurrying around waiting to be taken home for dinner (clearly not as the guest). It was pretty incredible!
After some more shopping down Las Ramblas, the three of us decided that it was time to go out for a real dinner. After a recommendation from our concierge, we were off to the little neighborhood of Barceloneta, where we had dinner at a fabulous seafood restaurant called Salamanca. The service was great, the waiters had a good sense of humor, and it was exactly the kind of dinner we needed to prepare us for the festivities for the Spain game later in the evening!
After dinner, we met up with some of our friends we had met the night before; turns out they were just two blocks over at a bar that was perfect for watching the game – big TVs, air conditioning, and a great pro-Spain crowd! So off to the Foc Bar we went (yes, that’s really the name – depending on who you ask, it’s spelled Foc or Fog). I don’t know why the US doesn’t get as excited about the World Cup as the rest of the world – it’s a great time! It was such a great time, in fact, that we didn’t remember until 3:00 in the morning that we had a 10:00 flight to Paris the next day. Oops!
I didn’t get to see any many of the sites in Barcelona as I would have liked, but the fun weekend with friends was well worth missing out on a couple of historic buildings. I think we should do it again in four years!
Me: Where are you?
S: In front of the coffee shop next to the tourist office.
Me: I’m in front of the coffee shop next to the tourist office.
S: No you’re not, because I’m there.
Me: Well, I can’t see you, so you must not be there.
S: But I am here.
Me: So am I. So where are you?
I kid you not, this conversation went on for thirty minutes. At the end of the day, we were BOTH in front of the coffee sohp next to the tourist office. In different terminals. The two terminals were so far away that you had to take a 10 minute bus ride to get from one to the other. And no one would let us take a taxi to go get her, even though we needed a taxi to get to town anyway. But logic wasn’t working on the airport taxi line, so after boarding the bus and FINALLY finding S (who was in front of the coffee shop next to the tourist office), we grabbed a taxi and safely got to the hotel. Only to find out that our room was flooded. So the hotel moved us off to another one of its locations and, despite our reservations (the hotel was surrounded by buildings covered in graffiti – I was afraid we were in Barcelona’s version of Camden), headed off for lunch.
It was also the day of the Netherlands-Brazil game; in fact, it was a weekend of World Cup quarter finals. After deciding that walking around in blazing afternoon heat wasn’t the best idea, the three of us found an Irish bar and commenced watching soccer. For the next six hours. It was awesome! And that was day 1 in Barcelona. Well, there was the slight crisis when J. and S. thought I was following them to McDonald’s and I thought they were following me to the hotel, so there was a quick moment of panic while we were separated (hey, I thought we were staying in the ghetto, so you can’t blame me for being concerned). But they showed back up at the hotel safe and sound and only a few minutes behind me, so crisis averted!
We did decide that Day 2 deserved some touring and it was then that we realized we weren’t staying in the Barcelona ghetto; we were less than two blocks from Las Ramblas, the most famous street in Barcelona. And for some reason, the pictures I took on Las Ramblas didn’t come out, so I can’t show you the incredible food market we found! Filled with meat, fish, bread, fruit, and a bunch of places you could sit and have tapas, the market was Barcelona’s version of Reading Terminal, but brighter. The whole thing was surreal: whole sides of ham hanging from hooks, shopkeepers hawking fruit you’ve never seen before, life lobsters scurrying around waiting to be taken home for dinner (clearly not as the guest). It was pretty incredible!
After some more shopping down Las Ramblas, the three of us decided that it was time to go out for a real dinner. After a recommendation from our concierge, we were off to the little neighborhood of Barceloneta, where we had dinner at a fabulous seafood restaurant called Salamanca. The service was great, the waiters had a good sense of humor, and it was exactly the kind of dinner we needed to prepare us for the festivities for the Spain game later in the evening!
After dinner, we met up with some of our friends we had met the night before; turns out they were just two blocks over at a bar that was perfect for watching the game – big TVs, air conditioning, and a great pro-Spain crowd! So off to the Foc Bar we went (yes, that’s really the name – depending on who you ask, it’s spelled Foc or Fog). I don’t know why the US doesn’t get as excited about the World Cup as the rest of the world – it’s a great time! It was such a great time, in fact, that we didn’t remember until 3:00 in the morning that we had a 10:00 flight to Paris the next day. Oops!
I didn’t get to see any many of the sites in Barcelona as I would have liked, but the fun weekend with friends was well worth missing out on a couple of historic buildings. I think we should do it again in four years!
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