Missing flights and riding bikes - Barcelona

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Such a comedy unexpected trip. Spent the flight reading ‘Yes Man’ on the way over, which was making me feel all inspired and up for anything random, ready to embrace all comedy opportunities that appeared! Which could only be a good thing really. By the time I arrived on the bloody Ryan Air flight (which is 400 miles from actual Barcelona) and had finally got the transfer to where I needed to be...I was ever so ready for a beer! Cat came to meet me and took me back to her flat. It was so beautiful, proper Spanish. There were a couple of girls there, one Spanish and one French - whose birthday it was. We ended up hitting the town that night, starting off in her chain-smoking kitchen, then local bar Manchester...then on around a few more bars.

The next day we went to see the city...wandered around Las Ramblas , went dress shopping and soaked it all in really. Barcelona has just got such an energy of its own, but it’s still all laid back and Spanish at the same time- which I love. Come the afternoon time, we started to fade, with the hangover and that, so we headed to get the ingredients for tea and a few beers and headed back. Cat had some of her work mates coming over for dinner that night, even though her fella, Pedro wasn’t around. I had been looking forward to meeting him ever so much...not just coz his name was Pedro ( admittedly that was a big part of it). But, id heard through the grapevine he was a real good influence on Cat, who has been known to be prone to the odd tantrum/stress attack on occasion. Anyways, her mates ended up to be her boss, Christian and this other Fella, Miguel. There was a lot of banter about Cat’s Spanish speaking skills, and to be fair...her omelette making skills. But it was such a funny night. We ended up going to this club and having a bit of a crazy one. The club was HUGE, never seen anything like it. As expected, we lost each other within 10 minutes. I ended up with the bloody Christian fella...rapidly going off him. After giving up on finding the other two anywhere inside, we headed out, and for some unknown reason went to the design studio Cat worked at. Finally, finally, finally got through to the other two and I made a swift and thankful exit from the slimy Spaniard.

The next morning we were a bit rough, to say the least. The only thing for it was some coffee and straight out the house. We had talked about renting bikes but were definitely doubting our hungover ability to co ordinate ourselves and handle traffic. Nevertheless, abandoning all doubt, we hit the first rental shop we found and sorted ourselves with some sweet little rides. The day was brilliant, I love biking around a city, so much better than public transport as you see everything and get such a feeling of it all so much more. We saw the Sagrada Familia (Gaudi’s massive, ornate, beautiful Roman Catholic church) and had Gelato. We ended up on the beach in the sunshine, in the best moods ever. That night we planned to have a quiet one, go for a nice meal for my last night and chill really. So after dropping off our bikes and a quick change we did just that. We had a lovely meal and a glass of sangria. I had heard Takeaway boy was in Barcelona, and he text after dinner...so we headed to meet him (in a bloody Irish bar no less!) His dad was there and some other guys I didn’t know. Apparently they are selling Atlantic Link (the company I briefly worked for) over this weekend and they had just arrived. The night got gradually messier, with Cat taking a big shine to Takeaway (buying him a rose and all...) and ended up in Manchester again. Takeaway and his dad informed me, much to my protest, that I’m not in fact flying home in the morning. Cat enjoyed winking at me and reminding me of ‘Yes Man’ and my new life philosophy of seizing any opportunities - whenever I protested. Somehow it ended up back at Cat’s at stupid O’clock, buying new flights on the internet and going to bed with expectations of waking up baffled, hungover and most definitely in the wrong country.

The next few couple of days, Cat had to work (obviously as she hadn’t expected a visitor at this point!) I hung out with Laura, the Frenchie, for the first day, and moved from coffee shop to coffee shop, smoking and talking. She was such a character thinking about it, eating barely nothing but chain smoking and drinking extraordinary amounts of black coffee. She flitted between deep, almost dark conversations to the odd bizarre eccentric laugh. Cat explained later that she’s a bit prone to staying in her room for days on end, like... she has a bit of a depressive streak. Anyway, Cat returned from work and began to pour out her anguish at her hungover day. It was at this point I told her offhand as I was getting changed that I’d borrowed some pants, proudly displaying myself trouser-less at her. She smirked and said that was fine, but she HAD worn those yesterday. In my defence who keeps clean undies in a box on the floor and worn ones on the bloody shelf?!?! Anyways, we went for a few with takeaway and co (at another bloody Irish bar)and had a relatively early night.
The final day in Barcelona, Cat went to work again, after me harassing her with a finishing-early plan. As I feel we had got on the friendly side of Christian a couple of nights back, I thought it was only sensible to take the opportunity and hesitantly explain that she needed to go to the doctors (with a mysterious problem, that could, in his mind, be pregnancy/girl problem related). Genius. I was also talking to him on facebook, telling him to ‘look after her for me’. He ended up letting her have a half day. We’d arranged with Takeaway and the Atlantic Link lot to have dinner and go to the function thing that was being put on that night.

When we finally got to their hotel, all dressed up fancy, we started to be aware of the poshness of it all. Neither the pouring rain nor the fact we’d just had a blazing argument with a scamming taxi driver over a Euro - didn’t help to make us feel all that classy. That aside we took a deep breath and tried to enter through the revolving doors with some dignity. I say tried...There was a yelp like a injured dog and the door jerked. Everyone...bellboys, receptionists, guests, taxi drivers......looked. Cat rearranged herself sheepishly and we tried again. With success this time.

The hotel was ever so posh. The guys kept telling us to put a sandwich on their tab, but it was like 25 quid for a bloody sandwich! Anyways, the night was brilliant, we went to two of these real exclusive places on the beachfront, with all these work-related people on a night out. We were dancing with this one fella for ages, messing around, and Takeaway whispered that he was the big big boss, and a billionaire! Jeez Louise. He paid everyone into the club...like the poshest club I’ve ever seen, must have been 50 in at least, and it was nothing to him!

We eventually left, and Cat, me, Takeaway and this other fella, ended up back at Cat’s eating pizza and having a deep and meaningful for AGES. Cat went to bed about five and I climbed in a bit later, meaning to have half an hour’s kip before I got my early morning flight.

Predictably, I woke up too bloody late and ran around swearing in my undies for a good five minutes. Cat couldn’t really say much, and she skulked off to work soon after. I had to book myself on another flight, for later that day and then sit guiltily waiting for it. To be quite honest, I was struggling to find the way to the airport transfer bus so much when the time came; so there was a strong possibility of missing the third flight of the weekend. Last minute dot com though, got there just in time, with a sigh of relief. This time I didn’t pick up Yes Man once.

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