A Change Of Plan

Sunday 8 April

It was still completely black when the alarm sounded this morning, made all the more difficult to get out of bed by being our last morning on this fabulous ship. We dragged ourselves to breakfast which was much less crowded than we had expected with everyone having to disembark by 09.00. The morning was very grey, and the balcony showed signs of a heavy drenching through the night, although the rain had stopped now. How much more dismal the port seemed this morning under the grey blanket of cloud than yesterday when we entered in brilliant sunshine. The sea had changed from a sparkling blue to a dull iron grey.

Colin decided to give the boiled eggs one last chance to rescue their reputation, but although not completely raw, they were hardly cooked at all, so had to go by the wayside as one of the only failings on the ship. We collected our ‘hand’ luggage, now swelled to an extra bag, to accommodate the chocolate bunny given to each state room – size according to status! Ours is about twelve inches tall, and large enough to present us with problems to get it home in one piece. We also had to accommodate the bottle of champers provided when we first came aboard – there just hadn’t been the right time to drink it – especially as white champagne often gives Colin a “virus” – so we would take it with us and perhaps crack it open when we eventually arrive home.

We met the “Fab Four” in the gallery area of Deck 5 and as we sat and chatted to delay disembarking – we wouldn’t be able to book into our room at the hotel until around 14.00, and many others had flights later in the afternoon – so the gathering soon swelled, as people reviewed their cruising experience. No one wanted to leave. Around 09.00 we decided we couldn’t delay leaving any longer and a whole gaggle of us made our way to the gangway and down to the dockside to collect our cases after passing through customs – which were almost non-existent. We joined the queue waiting for taxis with yet more “goodbyes” and promises to keep in contact. Our journey to the hotel took about twenty minutes and we began to fear that we would be staying some distance outside the central city. The Silken Gran Havana hotel was situated on the longest road in Barcelona - the Gran Via – and it seemed an endless ride. As we drove through the streets we were stunned by the architecture – lots of tall colonial buildings, with fantastic decorations and intricate balconies. At every turn we saw something different which made us gasp. Our hotel was typical of the buildings we had seen – six stories with large full length windows edged with wrought iron balconies. Apparently on the top floor there is a swimming pool.

We were able to drop off our luggage and semi book in before collecting a map and making our way towards the railway station to book our train tickets home. The receptionist had told us that most of Barcelona’s shops and museums would be closed both today and tomorrow for the Easter break – but we had no choice about when we arrived in port, so would just have to see as much of the city as we could. The sun had come out by the time we walked out of the hotel and it was now a very warm Sunday morning, with hardly any traffic or people around – only tourists like us, wandering around staring at a beautiful city. We made our way past the Arc de Triompf, through a park edged with museums, towards the Zoo to find the railway station situated on the next corner – a huge white brick edifice with no rail tracks in sight. On making enquiries of a ticket clerk, who spoke almost no English, we discovered that the cost of traveling home on the “Hotel Train and Eurostar” on Wednesday would cost much more than we had anticipated – more than 750 GBP - because of it being within the Easter holiday period the price was almost double. We decided to phone Juz and ask her to check the cost of flying home. After we had spoken to her, Colin guessed that we would also get the cost of flying to Newcastle – and – surprise, surprise – flying to Newcastle, where Juz could meet us – was the cheapest option. Colin and I discussed all the options – Gatwick, City and Heathrow, as well as Newcastle - and decided that seeing Juz for her birthday would be a great way to end our adventure, so phoned and asked her to book us a couple of tickets to Newcastle. Having avoided flying as much as possible all the way round the world, I cannot believe we are going to end our adventure by flying home.

We spent the rest of the morning and afternoon wandering around the marina, up and down La Rambla (the main tourist street of the city) and through the warren of side streets and squares, wondering at the architecture and sights of the city, till we could walk no more, and were in dire need of a cup of tea. We returned to our hotel – finding it was just three blocks along from the main square at the top of La Rambla, and about twenty minutes walk away from the waterfront. I think many friends may be surprised to hear that I still have not indulged in coffee since Cologne last July, and now drink a wide range of teas and fruit infusions. I rarely eat eggs, and never fancy bacon, sausages or hash browns at breakfast. I did eat quite a variety of sweet things in South America, but not whilst on the ship, so perhaps my savoury tastes are returning. My hair still curls in the damp – I had thought it had been the humidity that caused the frizz, but perhaps not.

We booked into the hotel, selecting a quiet “inside” room on the first floor as opposed to a “more noisy” one on the front – although thinking about it later, maybe we should have chosen one where we could hear the traffic, to get us used to the noise of the traffic. The room is quite large, with small patio area through French doors – although I doubt the sun reaches there – six floors down. It seems quite comfortable, as we found after some refreshment, when we sat on the bed and fell asleep – our early morning start catching up with us. When we woke, it was already time to think about finding a tapas bar for food and wine. At home, tapas is usually quite an expensive meal unless limiting the choice to a couple of dishes, but the menus always include an interesting range of dishes.

We wandered out to find a cooler evening, but still dry, and made our way around the web of narrow “alleys” passing many bars where customers were already spilled out on to the pavements, eating and drinking with relish. We finally decided on one bar in a very thin, almost seedy street, but where the tapas were described in English. The doorman persuaded us the food would be good and smilingly ushered us past the massive long wooden bar, into a room filled with lots of people, all speaking Spanish and all tucking into a wide range of food. The furniture was rickety dark brown wood with dark red runners showing signs of the previous diners. Our table was yet again wobbly, and had to be supported by beer mats and serviettes – I think we have found such a table in almost every restaurant in every town and city we have been in around the world. We chose anchovies, olives, potatoes, tuna, deep fried calamari and salads, all accompanied by red wine. I really like “picky” food and we both enjoyed the range of flavours and textures.

When we left, we made our way back to La Rambla, and set out to find Le Grand Café, recommended to us by the “Fab Four”. We found the Maccy D’s landmark just as they had described and turned off down the side street. We soon found three Irish bars, full of British tourists, drinking Guinness and watching football – British holidaymakers don’t seem to have changed while we have been away. We had just thought that we must have missed the restaurant, when we espied it down another narrow lane, with only the illuminated restaurant sign lighting the “alley”. We perused the menu and found the options were similar to those we had been eating on the ship – posh with lots of sauces. People were queuing out of the door, waiting for a table, despite it being nearly 23.00.

We strolled through the maze that is Barcelona “Gothic city”, finding the cathedral, outer walls of the old roman city, buildings of Moorish influence with minarets and colourful mosaics and fountains that had been silent earlier, now splashing in a sparkling lighted display. At every corner we found something new to stop and stare at. But despite our nap earlier, we were beginning to feel tired, and soon made our way back to the hotel. We had been told that the hotel was full this weekend, but there was only one couple in the bar and it seemed very quiet – perhaps everyone was still out partying – we had been told that this city comes alive late at night. The only sound we heard as we fell asleep was the deep rumble of the metro passing far below us.