Barcelona III: Everything Else, and: Up Another Mountain

The Sagrada Familia was initially a sad sight; it was past dusk and the spires had disappeared into the black sky by the time we arrived. Disappointed, we wandered around the stalls on the neighboring street, picking through the scarves and magnets and souvenir lighters. Then, just as we were about to wander off, the lights at the base of the cathedral suddenly switched on, flooding the building with light. 

The Fairy Bar. When I first heard the name, I assumed it was actually the Ferry Bar, and was underwhelmed; but upon stepping through the doors, I quickly realized my mistake, as the entire place has been transformed into a magical indoor forest. Tiny lanterns dangle from the fake tree limbs, the ceiling dimly sparkles with stars, and miniature waterfalls into rocky pools. Overpriced drinks, of course, fill the menu. 

The KFCs here have truffles on the menu

One night, we attended the lights show at the fountain at the foot of the mountain. We'd heard about it; although none of us were quite sure what exactly is was. "It" turned out to be a huge fountain that at night becomes a magical stage for musical medleys and softly shifting lights. The first song mix was, incongruously, a medley of Disney songs; in Spanish, of course. The colors shining through the water were nothing if not carefully planned; "Under the Sea" featured a vast array of blues and greens. The next medleys were bombastic and fabulous: movie themes, and then classical. It was oddly mesmerizing. 

We then wandered off into the nighttime streets. 

The next day, we decided we would accomplish things. We would go places, see people, take pictures. So early in the morning (please remember that "early" is a relative term) we set off to conquer Mount Juic. But not on foot. 

I adore trams. Something about them just sparks my plug; they seem such a 60s throwback for some reason, with their sleek futuristic design and promise of a world where honest citizens will never have to hike up any mountain ever again. 

Everything looks nicer on top of a mountain

We left Barcelona the next morning, at the ungodly hour of seven in the morning. This, of course, meant that we had to leave the city proper at 2:30 in the morning, to catch the taxi that would take us to the bus station where we waited for the bus to take us outside the city to the airport. Travel isn't usually fun, now that the novelty has worn off. But it has to be worth it. Why, otherwise, would we keep doing it?