I do love being up early in the morning. I just don’t like getting up. Even at 5.30am, the sun is well up and people are out and about. Had the best drive of my life on the way to Stansted: music blaring, clear roads and sunrise.
0630 – No wonder Britain has such a bad reputation abroad. Apart from the odd businessman, the majority of Stansted seems to be taken over by Hen Night or Stag Weekend halfwits. I was lucky enough to share my flight with the gelatinous Sharon, Di, Ness and their shrieking harpy cronies. I knew their names because they were on their backs; I knew they were together because they all wore silver cowboy hats. Classy.
1100 (CEST) – There appear to be more dogs in the airport than in most parks back home. And everyone is smoking. Everywhere. The signage is bloody awful, and I eventually make it to the train. Is it this difficult for tourists arriving in London? (Probably.) Barcelona Sants station is full of beautiful (and firm) women, but appears to be in the middle of nowhere. I say appears, because I don’t want to battle through the taxi rank and bus station to go anywhere (much like Victoria, I imagine). However, I have a Bonka in the Ars – as everyone should do – and laugh at the Spanish girl signing the godawful Barney dinosaur song.
1400 – Find the baggage lockers, which I had assumed they would have got rid of after the Madrid bombings. Have a couple of hours to walk around Barcelona. Also find vending machines selling Actimel and printer cartridges (separate machines, obviously…).
An art gallery? That's just showing off
Walk up to Montjuic, for the fantastic views. Shows the contrast with the views of London from Hampstead Heath or Ally Pally. The architecture is flat (by comparison) and in vibrant reds and oranges. There are minimal grey and glass tower blocks, and it’s reminiscent of a shanty town. I get the feeling that if one building were taken away, the whole place would crumble.
It’s eerily quiet. None of the fountains is on, and there are very few people around: mostly Brits and Yanks. I realise that it’s siesta time, but surely there is money to be made; maybe it is out of season.
A statue and I enjoy the view
1630 – Now this is what Barcelona is famous for. A robbery, on a train, that was impressively carried out. A woman, who looked like John Candy but not quite as fat, was helped to put her case on the stand by a random man. About two minutes later, she realised that her purse had been taken, including her passport and credit cards. She handled it quite well, but had no idea what to do. She eventually cancelled her credit cards. She thought that two of them did it: one ‘helping’ her (as a distraction) and the other picking her pocket/bag.
I still have the niggling feeling that she was a grifter, getting cash off other people to help her through the tough times (and no doubt offering to send it on to them when she gets home)…
No comments:
Post a Comment