Hop-On-Hop-Off Conundrum

Monday 9 April

Our room was quite dark, and looking out on our small patio in the early morning gloom, we found rain was falling steadily – we definitely haven’t seen the like of this for a long while. I had had difficulty in waking up, so it was quite late by the time we stepped out of the hotel, cloaked in kagools, to find a very cool grey morning as we wandered down the streets towards the marina to pick up a hop-on-hop-off bus to tour the city. The temperature sign showed just 16 degrees C, and there was a strong breeze coming off the sea, so maybe the adjusted temperature would have been much lower. We felt very pleased to have missed the freezing temperatures of an English winter. At the stroke of 11.00 – the church bells were chiming as we walked through one of the many squares – the rain stopped and the sun finally made an appearance making it warm enough to discard our wet weather gear.

At the marina we were faced with a choice, as there were two companies operating hop-on-hop-off buses, one with a single circular route around the city and the other with three separate routes. Colin – never good at making a final decision – hmmed and haaed for a while, before deciding on the single circular route – we could walk from the bus stops to any other sites of interest not covered by the bus. The whole journey would take nearly three hours. We clambered up the stairs, bending low under the awning to crawl on to the top floor – it had obviously been lowered when it was raining earlier to stop the water gushing down the stairs! There were still puddles of water on the seats, and despite trying to brush off the surplus, they were still wet when we sat down. We were the only people to brave the open top deck until we got to the main square, about twenty minutes into our journey.

We hadn’t gone very far when the sun went behind the encroaching clouds and it became distinctly cool again. As the bus drove along the breeze was cold and we had to put our kagools on once more to try and keep warm. We plugged in the bright orange headphones and finally managed to find the English channel, describing our route. We traveled along the coast to the Olympic swimming pool and village complex built for the 1992 games, now housing Barcelonans, while the swimming complex has been encroached by casinos, bars and shopping. We were told that further up the coast were some stunning beaches – for when the weather was warmer. Turning inland we passed the Picasso museum, cathedral and Catalonya Square, before passing into “Gaudi land” where there were some exquisite examples of his architecture – they all seemed like versions of fairytale castles with “climber” style carvings roaming over the outside fascias. Some of the walls were with “splashed” with iridescent pastel colours. The queues outside all the Gaudi museums trailed into the distance, so we didn’t even consider getting off the bus. We traveled from cathedral to cathedral, football stadium to football stadium and museum to museum around the city – there were so many monuments and icons to see that a return visit seemed essential. By the time we were up on the hills surrounding Barcelona, we were beginning to feel very cold, but persevered, as we wound our way back down to the port and the World Trade Centre, where the ship had docked just two days ago.

Having completed the full circle we got off the bus at the marina, and made straightaway for the warmth of the Maremagnum shopping centre across the bridge at the harbour, that we had visited yesterday – where we were assured of some warmth. We toured the coffee shops and bars but everywhere was seething with people on a likewise mission – I even had to queue for ten minutes to go to the loo – so we decided to return to La Rambla and find a bar there for lunch. As today was a holiday for all of Spain, I think most of the country had made their way to this city – at times it was hard to make any headway up the streets. Entertainers were performing at every small open space – acrobats and jugglers, musicians (includng a harpist giving a young girl a clarinet lesson) and dancers – the atmosphere was one of holiday light-heatedness and fun. We ended up at the Oysters bar we had seen yesterday and after waiting only a couple of minutes were shown to a white painted square wooden table with upside down “u” shaped stools - like small children use in kindergarten. There were lots of combinations of drinks with a couple of oysters, but we went for the whole hog and ordered a dozen with a bottle of rosé – something we haven’t drunk for months. We followed this by a shared quiche lorraine and salad. It was altogether a very pleasant way to spend a couple of hours, thawing out and relaxing. We wandered back to the hotel, where Colin instantly fell asleep (he later blamed the wine) while I caught up a bit on the blog.

We decided we would try and find a paella bar tonight, and Juz phoned just before we were setting out on our quest. Tonight wasn’t so cold as earlier in the day, and we were quite happy to stroll around the now familiar streets looking for the “right” location to eat. We eventually came across the “Café de Ferran” – just up the street from all the Irish bars - with green arched windows, another huge bar area with waiters working frantically upstairs in the gallery and down. Outside on large boards they advertised a wide range of paellas. All the tables full so we joined the short queue and within about fifteen minutes, two stools became available at the far end of the bar. We both ordered a “prepared” shellfish paella with beer, but the waiter returned to tell us our choice was finished for the night. So Colin chose a chicken and carob bean version, and I chose a different “marina” paella where the prawns and mussels were still in their shells. I am not a big fan of rice, but felt that being in Spain I should try this national dish. It was fine, but not as tasty as risotto for instance, and I struggled to eat half of my portion. Colin, on the other hand, loved the dish and declared his intention to eat it again. The atmosphere of the café was good, but sitting at the bar in a smoky atmosphere is not the best, so whereas I would put this as one of our poorer dining experiences, Colin loved it and gave it high marks.

We wandered back to the hotel, winding our way through the narrow streets and alleys, knowing that if we just kept turning right and then left, we would eventually find the Gran Via. Just as we reached the block before the hotel, it began to spit with rain, so we were lucky to have avoided getting too wet today.

Only one more day till we leave for the UK – it is as unbelievable as when we set out on our trip. We have become adept at living out of suitcases, being on the move, and I wonder how we will adapt to being in one place. We will soon find out.