Month: May 2013

Tom has been in London for two years and has been working on his tan. Compared to mine, he needs a little more time in the sun.

Signs were pasted on the glass of the building that had been shot up. This one, so Mr Google says, translates as, “This does not cure people’s rage.”

Apparently in Spain, people who could not service their mortgage have had their houses repossessed but still have to continue with their mortgage repayments until the debt is repaid.

Thanks for the beer Jo and Kev. Do you notice what is in the non-beer drinking hand?

Monday 20^th May – Barcelona

The flight was good from Dubai but the reunion with Tom after a year was much better. Plans made in the taxi about going to watch Barcelona FC play were thwarted when a short nap in the afternoon turned into a 14 hour coma.

A cool morning with some early showers but most of the day was fine for our first walk around the city. Gaudi’s church, on which work began in 1888, had a queue around 3 blocks so the visit was put off till tomorrow. Still the view from outside was spectacular. These eyes have not set eyes on a building like this one before. One of his other buildings is a short walk at the end of our street.

We paused for coffee in a bakery not far from the church and this gave me an opportunity to try out my Spanish for the first time which I must say myself worked out extremely well. Dos espressos, dos cappuccinos, cuatro croassants promptly delivered. However, I thought those drinking and eating the fruits of my language labours were more than a little unkind when they said my, “Gracias,” sounded a little too much like “Grassy arse.”

The streets of the old town are narrow and the buildings either side have shops below and apartments above. The economy has hit businesses hard here with numerous shops closed along all streets we walked. We passed a large building that appeared to have been dealing in property, mortgages perhaps. The plate glass windows for ten metres or so had been shattered by numerous gunshots. The young man in the jamon shop – they sold hams that were up to €450 each – wanted to know why we were in Barcelona as Australia had it all. He, like the young man in Dubai, wanted to come to Australia.

In those shops that were still operating, bargains galore bought the girls’ wallets out.

The Picasso Museum displayed a good spread of his work from when he was nine. Our Teacher’s Union cards got us in for free. Who says we get nothing from the Union? Tom got in for half price because he was under 29. Unemployed had free entry but Kay, the senior touring member, paid the full €12. Take note, Jo and Kev!

While waiting for the obligatory cathedral visit, we waited in Placa Santa Maria where we were entertained by a poor pigeon that had fallen off the church and was doing the pigeon’s version of break dancing, spinning on its head, twirling around in circles. It would walk normally for a moment then continue its Michael Jackson routine. The church was interesting as well.

Tapas in a bar in a square down the lane from our flat – squid, meatballs, cuttlefish, omelette, cod and spicy potatoes. What a good way to eat. A cool walk home ended a very fine day in a very interesting city.