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Barceloooooooooona!
I have, I regret to say, issues with heat. Not the magazine, you understand (although, now you mention it…) but actual temperature in that I become physically unable to function when the thermometer reaches about 29 degrees.
So it was slightly unfortunate that my jaunt to Barcelona for last weekend and the early part of this week coincided with an unseasonably warm September where 35 degrees was pretty much the standard for much of the day.
Still, it was a very nice trip otherwise. There was a difficult period of adjustment where I – as a decidedly morning person – was essentially being forced into the continental late-night dinners and clubbing experience (it didn’t really work I’m afraid – again I just sort of physically shut down at 12) but aside from that it was all rather lovely.
Many large meals were indulged in (one, in the Olympic Village, saw our party joined by a rather handsome puss-cat who was after the pickings of the fish), lots of the city’s architecture and labyrinthine streets were explored, and I finally caught up on some reading, which was rather gratifying.
It was also Poblenou’s Fiesta Mallora which meant there was a certain amount of local colour too – I gather it was a bit of a trial run for this weekend’s big Barcelonan Fiesta so there was a slightly WI feel to it all, but it was rather charming - and actually had one of the best fireworks displays I have ever seen.
Needless to say, a certain amount of oddness occurred - this is my life, after all. For one I managed to end up being pounced on by some hopeful Nigerian hooker in Las Ramblas who literally grabbed my arm and tried to drag me off (talk about barking up the wrong tree). Then there was the meal at a table next to some rather terrifying Sardinian Separatists, who then later turned up on a stage in one of the side streets doing some appalling rapping as part of the Fiesta.
Oh, and there was the odd coincidence of meeting up for evening drinks with someone who had befriended Mark and John on the beach while they were sunning themselves on the beach. Turned out we already knew each other through Other Rob, but there was a lot of “I know you don’t I? Where do I know you from?” before we figured it out. (It’s always a worry that sort of thing – I’m fairly certain I remember 90% of past lovers but you always fret you’ve blocked one out, don’t you?)
But yes, it was all rather lovely, and definitely much needed. I think next time I go I shall make sure it’s even more off season though so it’s just that little bit cooler.
Some photos are here if you’re interested.
Posted on September 23, 2007 | Filed Under My So-Called Life
Comments
Response left by Emma on September 24th, 2007
Eeer, Sardinian separatists in Barcelona? you sure they weren’t Catalan separatists instead? 
Response left by Emir on September 24th, 2007
You’d have thought wouldn’t you?
Told you it was weird.
Response left by Rob on September 24th, 2007
Got something to say?
I’m obviously a weirdo as I love heat (though not the magazine)…I thought I’d died and gone to heaven during last years heatwave and spent most of my days cycling or walking. In contrast this year I have been hibernating….hate the rain, wind, cold etc…I think I was born in the wrong country.