Some of my roommates came in late last night. Some of them slept two to a bunk to avoid making noise making up beds, something they had neglected to do before going carousing. In the morning the woman in a blue dress was there as I checked out of the hostel.
I had an uneventful trip to Barcelona. I decided to catch the subway to see the forum site. It was a waste of a fare, the site wasn't complete and entry was restricted to participants anyway. I took this picture and left.
Back at Plaça Catalunya I bought 1€ of Internet time, dealt with my email, then had a sandwich in the attached cafe before catching the train to the airport. I was early so I read the El Pais that had been given to me for free at the forum.
On the plane I found myself seated next to a petite Turkish woman. She was reading a biography of Atatürk in English so I struck up a conversation. She was a political science graduate student in the US, had just presented a conference paper and taking a trip to Izmit to see her family. Her hair was a bit unkempt because she had spent the last few days in a hostel. We had a great conversation about political systems in countries around the world. She was interested in my observations of Cuba. She was pessimistic about Turkey, and felt that it had missed a chance in the 60's for development. I realised after we parted at Schiphol that we hadn't even got around to introducing ourselves. I wondered too if I should have chatted up the woman in the blue dress back in Girona. Oh well.
The bus back to Heemstede was like clockwork. Back at P and K's place I found that they had two women guests, a USAn and a German who had attended graduate school with P in the US. We had a jolly Indian takeaway dinner. The conversation ranged from reminiscences about grad student life, the status of women in Germany and the weather in the south of the US. The Canarian goat cheese, honey and palm honey that I had brought back were sampled and declared interesting by all.
When I got back to Barcelona, it was around 2000 but there was a lively street parade on the Passeig de Gràcia, one of Barcelona's major avenues.
Some of the participants were protestors who thought that the Forum was a waste of money and that some of the sponsors were war supporters.
There was loud drumming and street dancing.
This was a Brazilian themed float which was a giant boom box with dancers on top.
As dusk fell, the parade thinned away. This was the beautiful fountain at the intersection with Gran Via, looking towards the Cine Comedia.
The view at the Plaça de Catalunya, looking towards the Barcelona branch of El Cortés Ingles, Spain's largest department store chain.
I had a simple dinner of a felafel from Maoz, a chain of vegetarian fast food restaurants started by an Israeli couple in Amsterdam. That went down well with the ½ kg of strawberries that I bought in Sitges. And so to bed, after finishing Thinks.
I was a bit wary after Cuba, but I found it refreshing to be not an object of curiosity in Barcelona. Also the Catalans are polite and did not stare or signal in any way that I was anything out of the ordinary. Of all the peoples living around the Mediterranean, I admire the Catalans the most. While the centre of Spain was mired in backwardness at the start of the 20th century, Catalunya was industrious and progressive. Today it is still a powerhouse within Spain. The Catalans have preserved their regional identity well inspite of the repression of the Franco era.
Of course, on Las Ramblas, one cannot help being noted as a tourist by the touts and pickpockets but as long as you ignore them, and watch your pocket, everything will be fine.
I was curious to see what Els Encants Vells (The Old Charms), the flea market, was like. It is close to the Plaça de les Glòries Catalanes. It looked the same as 11 years ago. Even the xurrreria (churro stall) was in the same spot, so I indulged in one. Of course, the used bric-a-brac on offer had been updated with the times.
My breakfast of cafe con leche and a slice of spinach tortilla had been a bit inadequate, so I made up for that by having a large lunch at FresCo, which is a chain of all you can eat buffet restaurants serving mostly vegetarian food. It was probably healthier for me too.
This is Plaça Toros de Monumental, a bullfight ring, as you can tell from the name, but as at the time of writing, this sport having been banned in Catalunya, has been repurposed for concerts and circuses. The pictures of La Sagrada Familia were actually taken this day, but I posted them yesterday to spread out the photos. It was in construction; in fact, it always is. Since Gaudi's plans were extensive, the work will not be finished until some time between 2017 and 2026, depending on which projection you believe.
Then it was off by train to Sitges, a fashionable beach resort a ½ hour by train to the southwest. I could tell that it received many foreign visitors from the many languages on advertisements. I got there rather late, around 1700, but since the days were long, it didn't matter, and it was also cooler, the perfect temperature for me.
There is a long promenade with clear views in all directions. Azure skies, golden beaches, this is the Mediterranean of many dreams.
Most of the people taking their ease on this Saturday appeared to be locals. The busy season had not started. Apparently it gets very packed in high summer.
I was pleased to see that the hotel at the end of the promenade was called Terramar, a welcome change from the clichéd Miramar.
Children were also catered for.
The Església de Sant Bartomeu i Santa Tecla which anchors the northern end of the beach.
And peeking just around the corner from that.
An atmospheric street in the town. I'm sure that there was a gelato involved at some point. These things happen.
The rest of the evening in Barcelona is in the next post due to the amount of pictures.
I didn't mind that my residencia did not serve breakfast because as the owner explained, and I was fully aware, I could get a very good breakfast at La Boqueria, the produce market near Las Ramblas.
It was a joy to see such an abundance of colour and smells after the paucity of Cuba that I shall devote this entire post to pictures from the market. Enjoy them.
The first two pictures are of a fruit stall, and a cheese and smallgoods stall respectively. This one is a food kiosk.
Shellfish stall. The hanging bags contain clams.
Fishmonger.
The only outdoor shot I took of the market.
Preserved olives and other condiments.
This is where I had breakfast, sitting at the counter. Notice the ¡no a la guerra! poster.
Vegetable stall.
The early sun woke me but I stayed in bed until 0730 to get more rest. I retraced yesterday's route to the airport. There was plenty of time to make my Thalys reservation at the international counter for when I returned from the Canaries.
This leg was a "freebie"; my ticket was a return to Barcelona with a stopover in Amsterdam. It was KLM's way of attracting customers—throw in a roundtrip from Amsterdam to another European city. So strictly speaking I hadn't yet reached my "ultimate" destination in Europe after having been on the road for 6 weeks.
The electronic check-in was slick. I gawked at the goods in the duty-free stores, then had a pre-flight lunch at Sbarro of a pizza slice with lots of garlic and oregano. This section of the airport was not passport controlled because it was an intra-Schengen flight. There were insufficient seats in the departure lounge. The plane was full of Dutch tourists. Did they get a cheap fare for this leg? Did they know that there was a Forum going on in Barcelona and that accommodation was in short supply? But accommodation is often scarce in Barcelona; it's a popular destination.
My first glimpse of Barcelona after 11 years of absence was not encouraging. The outdoors was dusty and the ugly apartments by the train line were still there. But it was better in the centre. The city had become even more glitzy. The restaurants were tempting. While I had been away, Spain had adopted the Euro so I didn't have to think in hundreds of pesetas for a meal. But what I ate wasn't worth 21€, but the ice cream afterwards was good.
My residencia room was small but adequate. I read myself to sleep with 3 chapters from David Lodge's Thinks, a paperback I found in the reception's collection.
