Barcelona — Is It Cursed?
Or Do I Just Have Bad Luck?
I’ve been to Barcelona three times — 2011, 2015 and 2019 — and something has always happened to ruin my appreciation of this beautiful city. Not Barcelona’s fault! This story is from my first visit.
As we emerged from the busy metro, we were greeted by a sea of humanity. Masses of people filled the streets from one side to the other and as far as the eye could see. Fortunately our hotel was only halfway along Las Ramblas so we didn’t have to manoeuvre our suitcases its whole length.
Due to the debacle on the French trains, we only have two nights and one whole day in Barcelona so I determined to see the one unmissable sight — Sagrada Familia — the last of Gaudi’s work and still unfinished. (I love Gaudi’s work. It’s what keeps bringing me back to Barcelona.) Lorelle and Kiryn went off on a bike tour but my hip still hadn’t recovered so I decided to give it a miss.
The free walking tour
I picked up a map from the hotel lobby, but the Sagrada Familia wasn’t shown so I thought I’d wait the 15 minutes until the walking tour guide arrived and ask him for map and/or directions. He arrived right on time and persuaded me to join the free walking tour although I didn’t think my feet nor my hip could last 2-and-a-half hours. I didn’t have my walking socks on either. His name was Chris and he was an Aussie from Newcastle. He had been living in Barcelona for 6 years completing his thesis on urban planning. We collected a few more people from local hotels, Pam and Janette from Newcastle (in England) and Manchester, 4 Spanish girls, and a few guys from Singapore, Bulgaria and Poland. Chris was informative and entertaining and I learnt so many fascinating facts about Catalunya of which Barcelona is the capital — the history, the legends, the buildings, the art, even the Christmas custom of Uncle Poo!
The Catalunyan flag story was memorable as was Wilfred the Hairy, first ruler of Catalan in 801 — centuries before Spain emerged as a country. He slay a dragon with a tree branch, and clubbed it to death to save a virgin a day being sacrificed. Good story. St George is honoured in the same way as in England and on St George’s Day on April 23, menfolk give ladies a red rose which grew from the blood of the dragon. Very romantic!
The paella story
Also learned about how paella came to be. The story goes a man cooked a meal for his intended conquest but got so involved with the bedroom preparations, her forgot about the food until the last minute and hastily prepared a meal from the leftovers available, mostly seafood. Paella comes from par ella (for her)- interesting story, factual or not!
We also heard about the 13 white geese in the Cathedral and their significance and the Four Cats, the bar where Picasso and Dali and Miro used to hang out and drink absinthe. After the best tour ever, we headed back to the Travel Bar for a beer — only €1.
Sagrada Familia
Chris then produced a city map (as hard to find as hen’s teeth) so I could find my way to the Sagrada Familia. It sounded easy — Line 3 to Diagonal and then line 5 to Sagrada Familia, so Janette and Pat decided to join me. Words cannot describe this architectural marvel. And pictures sure don’t do it justice either.
The outside is amazing and the inside is simply stunning! We had to wait to catch the lift up and then walked up the rest of the way to the top of one of the towers — 30 stories up! Pretty scary and exciting at the same time. Pat chickened out, but Janette and I forged on to the top, both amazed at our own bravery!
We caught the metro back in the reverse direction, buying two bottles of lemon squash on the way back (for the Bombay Sapphire gin in my suitcase!). The gin squash barely touched the sides and we were off to play trivia at the Travel Bar. We ordered the €9.90 three-course-menu which included a drink — bargain! — but by the time we were served, we had missed the trivia which we found out was at their sister (or brother) bar 10 minutes down the road. Replete, we headed back to the hotel, sad to have to leave in the morning for Cordoba and even sadder to have to pack our bags — again!
