BARCELONA - and an end (unfortunately) to the Spanish leg of my journey

We arrived in the afternoon after a six hour bus trip from Pamplona To be honest, I’d already started my love affair with Barca before I got off the bus. The drive in to the city was a treat for the eyes. Hugo and I found our hostel, located on the edge of the Gothic Quarter. It was time to find the three most important places in any city. A bakery, a supermarket and a cafe. We lucked out with a bakery that made coffee. That meant that breakfast for me for my time in Barca was a coffee and a croissant. Only set me back 1.80 euro.

The focal point of our stay in Barcelona was to occur the next day. The Football World Cup Final, which Espana obviously won. We met up with Haz and Dave who had returned from Morocco, and Loui and Scarra for the first time on our journey.

Harry, Dave, Hugo and I were lucky enough to stumble upon a gelato place. After debating for at least 5 minutes about whether it was worth the 3.20 euro, we decided we would get one. To be honest, after a sample of the passionfruit sorbet I already knew I was getting one. The combination of passionfruit, mango and pineapple was amazing. We all sat there, silent. Everyone used their own tactics. Some ate quickly, others savoured. I don’t think a word was said until after everyone was finished. Our only communication was through facial expressions.

Walking up La Rambla with the boys, we stumbled upon a street game in which you have to guess under which of the three boxes the little paper ball is. I quickly realised after some people watching that it was more than just the main guy in the centre. I also noticed the only people winning were part of the main guy’s crew. We watched as some poor guy lost 150 euros in about 20 seconds. Harry was sure he had it figured out, but that’s the idea. It looks easy, but you cannot win.
“I’ve got this down”
“You won’t win dude, you can’t win”
10 seconds later, and down 30 euros, Harry decided to agree with us. Then the taunts began...
“You could have bought 10 ice creams with that!”
“You could have had 20 fruit smoothies with that!”
He was understandably devastated. Hugo soon decided that he would refrain, in fear of further repercussions via the beauty of karma. That didn’t stop the rest of us. I imagine wherever Dave and Harry are now, Dave is probably still teasing him about it.

As the countdown to the final began, some bottles of good old Don Simon (cheap Sangria – a litre costs about 90 euro cents) were downed and we hit the streets among a sea of red and yellow. Now for the hard part – finding a bar. To my surprise, La Rambla has surprisingly few bars. We discovered that you only have to go a few streets back to find an array of bars, but it took us till half time to realise. We spent the first half crowded into one of the only bars on the main street. Soon after we arrived, a waitress handed us six beers without asking for payment. Everyone was stoked. Even though it was the final, I didn’t expect free beers. We were cruelly disappointed at half time as the waitress returned and gave us the bill. 4 euro a beer. Bummer. We had a new challenge. Find another bar before the half time break ended. After some frantic running around, we found a medium sized projector screen and decided to hang there till the end of the game.

Full time passed. As did the first half of extra time. People were starting to become impatient. All of a sudden, the streets erupted as Iniesta slotted the all important goal. As the end of the game arrived, a river of people headed to La Rambla where chaos reigned. TV crews scurried around, people chucked buckets of water on the crowd, chants were yelled and a general happy feeling swamped the whole street. I was interested as to the outcome of a win – Barcelona is in a region f Spain called Catalonia, and demands its own independence. I was happily surprised at the response to the win. A few days later, upon running into an Australian guy who we met in San Sebastian, we discovered that people in San Sebastian were threatened and bashed by Basque people for celebrating Spain’s win. I’m glad I wasn’t there for the world cup final.

Huey and I spent the next few days in Barcelona getting a feel for the city. We paid multiple visits to the market, where fruit juice costs 1.50 euro and a quarter of cut up pineapple 1 euro. I think that was my lunch for at least a couple of days. We also got a chance to marvel at many of Gaudi’s architectural masterpieces, including of course La Sagrada Familia. We paid a visit to the Museu Picasso, which I thoroughly enjoyed. It was interesting to see Picasso’s progression throughout his life. We visited La Barceloneta – one of the city beaches in Barcelona and spent a few hours enjoying the sand and saltwater, which has become a rare commodity lately for me. When it was time to leave Barcelona, it seemed all too soon. Getting on our overpriced train (50 euro reservation - don’t use Eurail in Europe) to Paris, I was sure of one thing; one day I will return to Barcelona.

This blog entry probably seems vague. I kept putting off writing it. I am now in Paris and to be honest Barcelona seems like a distant memory. My experiences in Paris have forced my vivid memories of Barcelona to the back of my brain, at least for the moment. Hope you enjoyed the few anecdotes from Barcelona. My description of Barcelona is definately inadequate, but I will say that it is a must-see for anyone travelling in Western Europe!