Monthly Archives: June 2007

Bonjour France!

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Well, I made it. Barcelona airport was a breeze, but a bore and the pilot we had managed the gentlest landing I think I’ve ever experienced. I slept virtually the entire flight seeing as I was up late blogging for you lot. Paris Charles de Gaulle (not Saint Germain… that’s a football team) is another behemoth based on a ring pattern, I think. There’s a central column filled with criss-crossed escalators. It’s the only airport I can recall being to which tells you how long you have to wait at the baggage carousel for your items to be transferred from the plane.

The train station was reached via a free monorail thing and is a pain in the neck to navigate. All the escalators are surrounded by a glass wall and it’s impossible to see where the gaps are to get to the platform. Having said that, I think you’re actually supposed to go through the barriers which may explain why my EURO1.40 ticket still worked the next morning. It was around 10pm when I got to my hostel near the Hoche Metro station. Thanks to Delphine for doing the research for me as I didn’t have time in Barcelona.

I checked in, grabbed a burger and some munchies from nearby shops and retired. Only to be woken at 1:30 by the entire population of my room (plus one extra person) crashing in and talking with the lights on. I think I got them back by snoring all night as my head cold’s worked it’s way into my sinuses and throat. Joy.

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Any old excuse to look at pr0n

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With Sharon gone I had no excuse not to. I got up early (earlier than I wanted) and packed my bags for checkout, wolfed as much breakfast as my snot-filled head would allow me and stepped out into the depressingly overcast and cool day.

I decided to mix filth with culture and paid a visit to the Erotica Museum. This is where the friends get annoyed and the family egt relieved that I can´t post pictures at the moment. It’s towards the top end of Las Ramblas and costs EURO 7.50 to get in. There isn’t a huge collection in there and most of it consists of prints if the Kama Sutra, wood engravings from India and some interesting artwork.

Some of the stuff is graphic – I can see British middle aged couples going mad if their kids got in – but a lot is simply interesting like the 1950’s condom machine from Holland. The most graphic thing they have is a constantly running restored pr0n video made in 1923 for one of the kings. Now I´d obviously not know how it compares to today’s stuff (honest) but let´s just say that Queen Victoris would very rapidly have changed her mind about not setting an age of consent for gay female activity had she seen it. And survived the following heart attack.

I’d also considered going to the zoo, but the weather looked a little iffy. Also, I only had my dinky camera with me (the one with the 10x zoom is in Cardiff) and four hours or aso just isn’t long enough for me. I usually get thrown out at closing time, and run out of space on my memory cards.

So back to the hostel to plan some more stuff. I now have accommodation in Frankfurt and Mons courtesy of some fellow Couchsurfers. My bus is booked from Paris to Mons on Tuesday afternoon, and I´ve mailed the hostel in Paris to extend my stay by one night. In French. I´m dead clever, me.

I have to go and repack now, so my next post will likely be from gay Paris!

Mad locals and bye-bye to Sharon

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We didn’t have much planned today as it was Sharon’s last and she wanted to do some shopping in the morning. I had a lie-in – again I could have slept much longer – and met her just before midday when she checked out of her hostel.

We took a toddle to the bottom of Las Ramblas where we caught a lift to the top of the Colom to see the view from there. It´s a nice sightseeing spot and pretty cheap for €2.30.

Actually, its surprising where the time went for the rest of the day. We walked past the cathedral which was undergoing refurbishment but couldn’t go in as Sharon was wearing shorts and had exposed shoulders. Their loss. Instead, was sat in the square and ate ice cream then wandered around a lovely market and munched delicious fresh strawberries for only €1 for a large punnet.

We spent a good two ours on Las Ramblas watching the street entertainers. There’s certainly enough to keep your attention: human statues; people who hide in boxes or lie still until they get money then jump out/up and surprise you; football jugglers; martial artists; acrobats; break dancers; combat dancers; a very funny clown… A great way to pass time.

Then it was time to collect Sharon’s stuff and get her to the station for her train to the airport. On the way, we passed a very posh restaurant with a huge crowd outside taking photographs and films of someone. Another “celebrity” arrived later and I have no idea who he was. I’d guess at a footballer from his appearance, but not one I recognised.

It’s always nice to have a travelling companion for a while and Sharon was no exception to that. Barca wouldn’t have been the same without her, especially with my niggly cold. I’d have lain in bed and whinged instead of getting out.

As I sat writing this up, I got a text: “flight delayed – bum!” A slight problem as she was due to land at Luton at 23:55 and the airport closes at midnight. Fortunately, later in the night I got a text to let me know she’d made it home safe and sound. Glad to hear it!

I´ve booked a flight to and a hostel in Paris. So tomorrow’s my last day here and my choices for things to do are limited. I have two main options. I’ll see how I feel in the morning!

Dilly-Dali-ing around

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Our reason for travelling was to get to Figuera, the home of the Dali Museum (and a few other attractions). BOth of us felt lousy – I could have slept another few hours at least and my nasal passages were as rough as if I’d been snorting iron filings. Damn head cold!

We managed to catch the 9:30 train by the skin of our teeth and endured a stifling 2-hour journey in the non-ac’d carriage. All the main sights in Figuera are well-signposted from the station and the Dali Museum is around 15 minutes’ walk away. The route takes you through some lovely streets and past an outdoor fruit and veg market.

It’s instantly recogniseable from any approach with bizarre sculptures surrounding it. One wing is crowned with a multitude of golden eggs and encrusted with gold jobbies. At least that’s what they look like. Entrance is €10 and includes entry to a separate jewellery exhibition that we didn´t have time to visit.

The main museum is on three floors, circling a courtyard. Pride of this place in this yard is a car being “ridden” by a large woman in chains. Above her, a boat levitates with water seeming to drip from its exposed hull. A multitude of squashed bathroom sinks ring the top of the interior wall.

Completely hatstand. Wibble, wibble, indeed.

We spent over two hours walking around looking at this lunacy. We had cold-induced headaches when we arrived and surrealism-induced ones by the time we left.

I managed to locate what seemed to be the only shop in Feguera selling junk food. Through a combination of miming, pointing, guessing and blind luck I got the world’s largest chicken kebab burger and enough chips to chose a horse that really likes chips. After I clogged my arteries with this lovely fare, we legged it to the station to catch the 16:30 back to Barcelona.

Sharon had a snooze while I caught up on email then we popped to a nearby bar to watch England U-21s throw away a 2-0 lead to draw 2-2 with Italy. Some things don’t change no matter what country you´re in. The bar was full at one point with an 11-strong Everton-supporting stag party. I’m glad I wasn’t sharing a bathroom with any of them that evening after seeing some of the cocktails they were downing: Baileys, Malibu, Bacardi, vodka and whisky anyone? Thought not.

Another early night as we were both ready to drop. I walked Sharon back to her place then hobbled to mine where I cuddled up with two paracetamol and some eucalyptus oil on my pillow.

Gaudi or gaudy?

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I’d arranged to meet Sharon at 10:00 and we walked to see the Sagrada Famila. This incredible structure has been under construction for over 125 years, partly under the guidance of Gaudi before he died. The estimated time of completion is still another 13 years ago by which time the building will have recovered its title of tallest structure in Barcelona with the completion of a 173m central spire. Stiill, the completion date’s as reliable as anything given to the FA for the new Wembley.

We wandered around and examined the inside and outside walls, the stained glass and the bizarre shapes used to hold this structure up. Carvings are all over the place and vary from traditional to very obscure or symbolic. The 1-hour plus wait to go up in the lift to see the view just wasn´t worth it to either of us, so we decided to skip it. If you want to do this, I suggest getting there early and queueing.

There was also a museum under the building with information on the construction and on Gaudi himself. A department was set aside where designers still work, building plaster models of the sections being worked on now. Its an incredible structure but I¨m still not sure if it’s ugly or not.

We next visited another respected and long-standing institution – KFC. Spain doesn´t have the Zinger! I settled for a fillet tower burger and chips without enough salt on. We next headed down to the port area via the Arc de Triomf and the park containing the Natural History Museum.

After a delicious ice cream, we boarded the cable car from the port to Miramar (€9) where we drank expensive beer and made friends with a scruffy black cat. There is supposed to be a furnicular railway up to the top but its still “being serviced” – we couldn’t even see the thing so it it must be back at the factory or something. Instead, we walked up the hill to the Castell de Montjuïc then got a different cable car partway down before strolling the rest of the way to my hostel There we enjoyed a hard-earned beer (me) and sangria (Sharon).

Showers and changes of clothes were required before we went out for dinner. Tonight we settled on a restaurant not far from Sharon´s place and paid a reasonable sum for two pasta dishes, some beer and a bottle of plonk.

We would be travelling far the next day so an earyl night was called for. OK; Sharon crashed when she got in. I stayed up till 2:30am on the internet. Whoops.