Barcelona

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Blog for 21^st



After spending the rest of the afternoon exploring the old city and snoozing the warm Spanish sun, I headed back to the hostel to make Benji look presentable. First of all I had to take all the accessories off him, they were undoubtedly not worth keeping or trying to sell on. They had limped over the line into Pamplona. So after removing the rack, which ended up in about 5 different pieces, and the panniers, which were also starting to disintegrate, I made the long slow march to the Cash Converters. I had one last little ride on him for old times’ sake, a melancholic experience. The slow goodbye was only exasperated by the fact that I was waiting in the storefront side of the business. After waiting to be served for an hour or so I decided to ask if I could speak to someone about getting rid of him, and she promptly pointed next door. What a waste of time. So I headed next door and it was time to say our last goodbyes, after a few goodbye kisses it was time for us to part. After spending 300 euros on him in Tallinn I managed to get 100 euros back, not a bad result. It definitely made my trip much cheaper, between the lower costs of camping and the lack of transport costs it was definitely cost effective. That’s not even mentioning the great adventure that it’s enabled me to be a part of. In my state of sadness I grabbed some pizza and a bottle of wine to console myself. It was already pretty late by this stage (the Spanish stores are often open till around 8) so by the time I eaten it was time for bed, especially after such an emotional day. I had certainly become attached.



The 22^nd was a day to sort out logistics. I spoke to mum and dad briefly, the first day with no bike was a relief. I spent the rest of the morning and some of the early afternoon deciding what my next move would be. I am heading to Barcelona on the 23^rd for at least a few days. I’m really looking forward to getting there. I also had to repack my backpack, which is not as easy as it sounds as I had to fit everything from my panniers into one bag. It’s certainly as tight squeeze. I also watched a surprisingly interesting day of test cricket between Australia and Pakistan. Maybe its cause I haven’t watched any in so long, absence makes the heart grow fonder after all. Having booked my bus ticket for the next morning at 8:30 am I thought it would be wise to scope out where the bus station is just to make sure I don’t get lost on the way there. It was easy enough to be found and not that far from the hostel which was a positive, meaning it wasn’t going to be as early a morning as I thought. From there I had a more detailed look at some of the history and old city walls etc. which was pretty interesting. I also managed to locate the infamous Pamplona bullring which is a pretty impressive structure. It takes pride of place in the city. I could imagine the atmosphere in the city during the festival would be electric. I did some present hunting as well, all bull related presents as I’m sure is not surprising. The weather had become significantly cooler during the day so I headed back to the hostel to find somewhere out of the wind. I cooked up a simply huge dish of carbonara for dinner and watched Liverpool stink it up against Real Madrid. We have some incredibly inept defenders. Still it was a nice last evening spent in Pamplona. It will always have a special place in my heart as the place that marked the end of one adventure, and the beginning of another. A pretty early night was had as a reasonably early start in the morning was required.



I was up well before anyone else in the hostel, and it was only 7 o’clock. I grabbed my gear and got out of there, making my way along the dark and deserted streets to the bus station. I was glad I had scouted a route the day before. I was there with plenty of time and was able to board the bus successfully. The country is odd, almost Coober Pedy like. It’s really dry and looks pretty stony. As we’ve gotten closer to Barcelona it is starting to get a little more vegetated. This bizarre thing happened, we stopped in a city (not sure which one) and these two guys got on and started asking only selected people for their passports. It appeared to me, although I couldn’t be sure if it was true, that they only asked for the passports of those with darker skin. I was left alone. Maybe they were making sure that no one was here illegally, seems a little racist though. So I got into Barcelona before the scheduled time, it was around 2:30. I managed to connect to the citywide WIFI (which I now see as a minor miracle) and was able to locate the hostel. It was a little walk away, about 3km, but I thought it would be easier than taking the metro. It had turned into a warmish day and by the time I arrived I was more than a little sweaty. After checking in to my room, getting settled and refreshed I headed out for my first proper look at the city. Without having any real sense of where I was in relation to the rest of the city I began wandering. I made my way down through what turned out to be the Spanish version of the Arc De Triomph. Walking down past the zoo I ended up along the foreshore of sorts. I passed some marinas, one of which I was slightly familiar with thanks to Tony Hawk 4 I think it was. Turning back inland I headed up the famous La Rambla (I had no idea it was famous) which was packed with travellers like myself. It’s a very touristy area. It was already too late to have significant look at anything in particular so after seeing signs to the Gothic style Cathedral I decided to bank it for the next few days when I had some more time. The sun had set over the hills that meet the sea. Barcelona is a much more geographically beautiful city than I expected, I thought that it’s cultural attractions were the key but it turns out the natural beauty also offers its own drawcard. On my way back to the hostel I stopped at the Mercat De La Boqueria, a fresh produce market. Again aimed heavily at the tourist population, it was still a vibrant place to spend the evening. I tried a homemade calzone that these older Spanish ladies were making fresh, truly delicious. It was then time to head back. It had been a long day with an early start. Once back at the hostel I relaxed in the common area. The sad thing about this hostel is that it is too big. It feels much more like a hotel, so you feel like you need to keep to yourself. In future I think I’ll look for more homely hostels, although everything is clean and well-kept so I guess you have to take the good with the bad. The night finished with me watching ‘Sherman and Mr Peabody’- an animated children’s comedy intertwined with a history lesson. It was pretty childish but fun all the same.



Having had a pretty exhausting the day earlier I had a bit of sleep in. I only stirred at around 9:30, the room was at that perfect sleeping temperature. So after getting my little fix of test match cricket once more I made my way back into the city. The first stop of the day was the Museum of Contemporary Art (a bit of a contradiction in terms) which is located right off La Rambla. It was interesting, and equally hard to understand and interpret. There were some really well thought out exhibitions though, especially one on monuments and how we interpret them in modern society. There was also an interesting display of Oskar Hansen’s work, an open form designer. After spending a couple hours there I headed to see the Cathedral in the middle of the city. I foolishly mistook it for Gaudi’s masterpiece (I’ll have to check that out another day). This was nevertheless a spectacular gothic work that rose out of nowhere right in the heart of the city. By the time I had finished there and got something to eat it was already getting late in the afternoon. I had a wander around some of the charming little backstreets that populate the city, a fascinating look at Spanish culture. It was tie once again for my traditional afternoon nap, this tie I was disrupted endlessly by flies. This was something I had left long ago in Australia. I’ve spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on this blog. Sitting in Placa Reial as the sun went down listening to Jeff Buckley (with my now fully functioning headphones) was a great way to begin to wind down after a great day in one of the world’s great cities. Words can’t describe the excitement for tomorrows El Classico, hopefully the atmosphere in the streets is electric. I’d love to see Barcelona win and discover what a win over their greatest rivals does to the overarching mood of the city. I went out for a beer on the streets of Barcelona, just to sample the nightlife. Being by oneself in a city this large doesn’t really make for an incredible night. Nevertheless I was glad I at least had the chance to get a taste of it. I was able to find one really cool bar to sit in for a while, and while there I met two Colombians and a Sweede. That made the night more enjoyable than it may have been otherwise.



Indulging in a sleep in on a Saturday morning is not something I have become accustomed to while overseas so it was nice to be able to for a change. By the time I had finished talking to mum and dad once more I decided to head out. It was already after lunch time, so I collected some grub from the conveniently close supermarket and wandered my way down towards the city. Instead of taking the conventional route I was used to I took a scenic route. I detoured along some of the charming (yet one would say dodgy at night) streets that took me a little away from the city. Safe to say I was slightly lost. Once I had recalibrated and was able to locate and follow the throng of tourists I was fine once more. I had tried to find an art gallery, but I couldn’t seem to find anywhere which was a shame as it housed some specifically Catalan works. The Catalan situation is particularly interesting now, as they are looking to secede from the rest of Spain. The issue is clearly a hot topic, as I saw a few pro secession stands along some of the streets. It was almost time for El Classico, and plenty of people were getting into the spirit, sporting their Barcelona paraphernalia. I stopped a nice looking bar with a friendly, yet still engaged atmosphere. The game, despite being a 3-1 win for Madrid, was a slight disappointment. Barca got things underway with an early goal, which is always a positive for the match. The first half was a tight affair, with neither team really looking too dangerous. Real drew a penalty and Ronaldo duly finished off the work to tie it up at half time. After the break Barcelona were poor, and the atmosphere in the bar suffered as a result. Real Madrid got a second goal from the head of Pepe, after some diabolical marking from Barcelona at a corner. Benzema rounded off the victory with a classic FIFA style counter attack from a corner. It was a shame that they couldn’t get the win, the atmosphere on the street was somewhat subdued, but it was hard to tell because of the sheer number of tourists around. From the bar I made for the hostel. Only stopping to pick up some snacks for the rest of the evening. I don’t think my body has realised I don’t need so many kilojoules now that I’ve stopped riding. Not a good thing when you are trying to keep the weight off that you lost while riding. The old catch 22. I spent the rest of the night watching a bit more football and some episodes of The Office (a show I am now well and truly back in love with) before getting a pretty early night, in preparation for a big day on Sunday.







Arising early on a Sunday has become a habit. I was up at 8:00 in the hope of getting to La Sagrada Familiar for 9:00 mass. Instead of being greeted with the open arms of the church I was greeted with gigantic lines and a 14.80 euro entry fee. I was grumpy. I agree that during the week it is fine to charge people a fee to see the church (for the upkeep etc.) but there should always be one time a week where one does not have to pay. And that time is during mass. No one should ever have to pay to worship at church. So being pretty miffed at the whole situation I stormed off. This unfortunately meant I didn’t get to see the inside, but in some kind of perverse protest I didn’t want to go in. The outside was truly incredible though, despite the cranes and the scaffolding that somewhat ruined the vista. So I decided to go Bari Gotic, the cathedral in the city. Which thankfully was free for those who wished to attend mass. It was a very traditional service. I learnt that conservative Catholic’s don’t give out wine during communion. I thought at the time it must have been too big an oversight to be a mistake. Mum and dad then confirmed that only the bread is given out to the parishioners during communion. Dad wanted to know about the game the night before so I went back to the hostel to tell him about. An hour and a half later we were off the blower and I was free once more to explore the city. But before I was entirely unbound I had to book some travel and accommodation Rome. I booked a ferry ticket, which was both cheaper and more interesting than flying, for the 27^th. It’s going to take 20 or so hours so it should be a good time to relax and contemplate. I will be in Rome for 6 nights all up. Although it sounds like a long time to be in one place I would rather get to know one place over six nights than not get to know 4 cities in the same amount of time. After exiting the hostel I sat down at a café for a quick coffee and a brief read of ‘Ulysses’ by James Joyce, which I had acquired the night before. It’s an interesting and at times quite humorous read, but difficult all the same. I look forward to trying to put a dent in it over the next few weeks. As it was getting late I decided to make the trip to the Picasso Museum. And I am so glad I did. The line was huge. I waited for probably over an hour, but having music and a good book helps the time pass. I was thrilled to see that entry to the museum was free from 3-7pm on a Sunday (it also probably explained the length of the line), which meant the wait was definitely worth it. They had a special exhibition by one of his friends, Douglas Duncan. Duncan was a photographer and spent lots of time with Picasso in his studio. He captured some great moments of Picasso working as well as some of the seemingly normal people Picasso used for his cubist paintings. It was a fascinating exhibition. Onto the permanent collection, which features art primarily from his younger days. This is interesting due to the fact that he started off as a traditional painter. No funny shapes, or absurd head shapes. Just portraits like anyone else. It was only later in his career that he started painting in the cubist style. They didn’t have any of his tremendously famous works but they were nonetheless stunning. His ‘Pigeon’ collection particularly struck a chord. I could see a lot of his work in the work of Sydney Nolan (I’m not sure how correct artistically that is but I thought there were similarities) which gave me an emotional connection to the works. Having thoroughly enjoyed my time it was time to grab some dinner though. I stopped at a bar on the way back and got a burger and beer for 6 euros. During dinner I watched the last half hour of Manchester United playing Chelsea. Robin van Persie equalised in the 94^th minute. It reminded me of how much I love soccer, the pure unbridled joy of scoring an equaliser or winner at the death. The feeling cannot be beaten. As I explained earlier my body still craves food even when I should be full. So while walking back to the hostel I was unable to resist the call of Subway. I finished the night by watching ‘A most wanted man’, one of Philip Seymour Hoffman’s last films, such a great actor. It was a thrillingly tense film, and the ending created so much sympathy for the characters involved.



During my last morning in Barcelona/Spain I had a good old chat to Eb. It was good to talk again, it had been a little while since our last discussion. I let some frustration go about the ineptitude of his fellow Perthian. The lady at Notre Dame hasn’t been able to give a definite date as to when the last interview can be conducted. I even specifically asked her for a date and she gave an equal parts vague and infuriating answer. We shall have to see if she can give me a more definite answer this time. After talking with Eb for an hour of two I spent the rest of the morning/early afternoon reading, watching TV and enjoying the last bit of Barcelona I could. My ferry was leaving at 10:15 but I thought I had better get there as early as possible. So I walked the streets of Barcelona for the last time, down towards the wharf. I was glad I decided to go so early, as the terminal was a fair distance from where I thought it was. I arrived at the terminal at about 5:30, and although the ferry only leaves at 10:15, boarding begins at 7:30. So I had time to catch up once more on my blog, I really should become more conscientious about updating it regularly. I was really looking forward to the ferry ride, hopefully it is both relaxing and beautiful.

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