Hola Barcelona!

Wed 7th Sept

After a quiet night and an equally quiet morning at Rick´s place, I headed out to the airport by train to catch my 3.30 flight to Barcelona. I´m almost certain that the Australian actor Joel Edgerton was on the same flight, if not him then perhaps it was his brother Nash, who is an emerging film-maker, as well as a stuntman and actor, he sure as hell look familiar, and was definitely an Aussie, but I couldn´t get the chance to sneak a look at his passport even though I was standing behind him in the customs queue...not that it really matters.

Flying over the chequered fields of England was rather pretty, as was leaving the coast behind and heading out across the English Chanel for France. Soon after we reached the coast the cloud cover thickened, but the flight eas smooth until we began our descent. Barcelona was gripped by thunderstorms and we had to fly straight through them to land. The plane lurched, rocked, and a couple of times seemed to drop straight down, leaving my stomach and my nerves several hundred feet above us.

The drunk English bloke next to me said loudly at one point "We´re all doomed," and then proceeded to belittle the pilot´s skills. Wanker.

We landed safely, and the plane´s crew all applauded. Luggage. Check. Customs. Check. Welcome to Spain.

After getting directions, I walked out to the train station through the wind and the rain, waited 15 minutes, and then squeezed into a very crowded carriage full of tourists (such as a young couple from Urugay who I was sitting next to) and travellers who were returning home.

Into the city through a rain-soaked industrial quarter, disembarking at Placa Catalunya, the central plaza in the city. My first step was to go to the tourist information office, to cash some travellers´cheques and book myself into a hotel where my mate Mike and his boyfriend Roger were staying. Then I walked 40-odd minutes, getting increasing hot and sweaty, lugging my backpack. The hotel staff sneered at me when I arrived because I imagine in their eyes I was nothing but a grimy, sweaty backpacker.

It was a pretty up-market establishment, with my room costing my €125 for the night, but hey after two weeks of couches and a backpackers, I felt like a little luxury. The staff´s attitude didn´t endear me to Barcelona, I confess, and I got even more pissed-off when they told me that Mike and Roger were´t even staying in the hotel!

This, I later found out, was a mistake - the boys were there all right, but the staff just couldn´t locate their booking for me. So much for catching up with friends in Barcelona!

After a wash and changing my shirt, I walked down into the city in something of a foul mood. I was seriously considering jumping on a train the very next day and heading south to Portugal, but once I found somewhere to eat I was much more cheerful. The meal of mixed paella and a couple of glasses of house red wine (not great wine mind you) vastly improved my mood, and I was prepared to forgive Barcelona for its initial bad first impression. I went for a walk after dinner, hoping for a pub or a bar, and ended up, to my shame, having a pint at Hogans, an Australian theme pub in La Ramblas. Not an Aussie to be seen inside of course, just noisy Brits and Irish getting plastered.

Then I took a taxi back to the hotel in the rain, and bed, quite early. Slept well, woke extremely refreshed.

Thurs 8th Sept

Booked in at the Gaudi Youth Hostel, Placa Urquinaona 5, a small, clean and extremely friendly hostel. Breakfasted with Matt, a young Aussie graffiti-artist and his two Austrian friends, Matt and Simon. My initial impression was that they were larrikans but decent sorts; I´ve since downgraded that impression to "young, stupid and inconsiderate" given that they stomp into the room most nights at 4am, drunk and rowdy, with no respect for anyone else at the hostel who might actually be sleeping at that early hour...

I spent today drifting about the city and fell in love with the Barri Gotic, the narrow streets of the old medievval city, where I lay my hand upon an ancient Roman wall, discovered a shine to Saint Christopher built in Anno MDIII, and walked down long narrow streets overhung by wrought iron balconies and hanging plants as thunder growled overhead.

The street opened up to reveal the harbour, where I wandered for ages, admiring ships, fishing boats, shirtless skater-boys, cruise liners, and eventually passing an impressive monument to Christopher Columbus before entering the Ramblas, a tourist precinct full of bars, cafes, buskers and more. Not really my style, so I took off down a side street back in the Barri Gotic and caught up on some e-mails in a cafe there.

Eventually, after realising I´d hardly eaten all day, I made my way to Els Quatre Gats - The Four Cats - a cafe where Picasso had his first ever solo exhibition. I don´t think he could afford to eat there any more. While the ambience of the cafe was wonderful it was matched only by the arrogance of the waiters, who seemed to sneet at everyone. My meal was mostly good, although the octopus with potatoes was way too oily for me, but the house wine by the glass was a great disappointment. After a few sips I called the waiter over and he suggested I try a small bottle instead. Much better idea, and a tip for any of you who are planning to visit Barcelona at any time. A small bottle holds about 2 glasses, and is perfect for dinner. House wines are invariably shithouse.

Lastly, before leavig, I ordered an absinthe - the waiter mishead me at first, or I mangled the local pronunciation, because he seemed to think I´d asked for acid. Not wanting to trip on my second night in the city, I repeated "absinthe" and made drinking motions. He smiled, returned, poured me a shot of the most delicious absinthe I´ve ever tried. A short time later I drifted out into the night a very relaxed and happy man.

Back at the hostel new guests had arrived, including a young American girl from Seattle who at present lives in Paris. She also speaks fluent Spanish and has great taste in music; we listened to each others iPods for a while before I proposed buying a bottle of absinthe, to which she cheerfully agreed.

Cut to: Group of backpackers, including a trio of Parisian boys, and a Spaniard who works at the hostel sitting around drinking absinthe and making plans to go out.

Cut to: Richard and the American girl drinking champagne and having tapas at 11.30pm.

Cut to: Meeting up with the same group of backpackers as earlier, and drinking pints in a tacky Australian-themed bar.

Jump cut: The same group in an Irish bar. More pints are consumed.

Cut away to: The same group plus a few more French folk dancing in a Spanish techno club.

Jump cut: Richard and Seattle-girl decide to go to a gay bar, which Richard is so drunk he basically doesn´t remember leaving, hell, even getting there is something of a blur...

FADE TO BLACK