Monday, 17 November 2008

And onto Barcelona

If having a rocky start to a trip is a guarantor of good times to come, then we were practically fated to have an incredible weekend. We arrived at the airport after several hours of buses and trains and tubes (we were flying out from Stanstead, which is further afield than Heathrow) and got there at 5:02 for a 5:40 flight. We knew we were cutting it close, but transportation is complicated and we didn't know any way to get there sooner. 
Well, as you've probably guessed, they wouldn't let us through. The apathetic woman at the counter informed us that their check-in had closed at 5:00. We pleaded with her, but she was unmovable and unmoved. In fact, every person we came in contact with as we tried, desperate and increasingly furious, to figure out some way to get us out of this country was bored and disinterested to the point of being comatose. 
I've heard that everyone must, at some point in her life, spend a night in an airport. I hope I've gotten my night out of the way, as it was a strange, dreadful 15 hours that seemed like some sort of limbo. The bookstores closed, most cafés shut down, and we were left sans reading material with 12 more hours to while away. We slept on chairs. I napped in the 24 hour pizza and pasta joint. I brought out my pack of cards, ever present in my purse (thanks for the tip, Mom). I went to Boots, and got a free magazine, with a little sweet-talking. Finally, at 3 am, we curled on the icy tile floor in a corner, huddled under our coats, and drifted off to sleep. Ten minutes later, the fire alarm went off. 

I've never been happier to board a plane, which we eventually did, at 8:05 am. Luckily, our pains were worth it. 


Los Rambles was one of my favorite parts of Barcelona. It's also incredibly tourist-y, so I suppose it's also everyone's favorite part of Barcelona. There's not anything specific to do there, but just walking up and down the very pedestrian-friendly street and seeing the shops, stalls, and sights is enough. 


The opposite side of this plaza was filled, bench to bench, with pigeons, moving about like a many-celled mass of feathers and greed. 

We had meandered to the waterfront by around sunset, with only a few instances of middle aged men saying things to us that I could only assume were uncouth. While searching for a place for dinner that had a few non flesh-based options (quite a task) we stopped at the sandy beach. It was strangely alien in the pearly grey dusk-light, and the sand was smooth and flat. 

We ended up going to bed at around 10:30, exhausted and running on about 4 hours of sleep that we'd managed to grab while on the plane and the airport lobby floor. Luckily, we had two more days to explore. 

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

See? I'm a smart traveler. Even when I'm semi-napping, my purse is still secure within my unyielding grasp to stave off pickpockets.

Dana said...

Yep, you've had your night in an airport now! Though mine was a night in a train station.

Some day you can tell me exactly how one charms a free magazine out of a store - it might come in handy some day!

I'll bet a warm bed never felt as good as it did that night.

Anonymous said...

what is it with you and fire alarms????
Mom

Anonymous said...

what was the magazine?? Was it golf-related, even remotely?? Love the recap, girl. Love, Paterfamilias

Jackie said...

Liz, I've found your calling for you: travel writing!

How insanely perfect is that shizz?! I mean, that's just one way you can achieve fame...

Liz said...

Don't think I haven't thought of it! The trouble is, I think everyone else has too. I mean, how ideal!