Saturday, February 28

I had really logged a good distance on my feet yesterday, so my first decision was to try to take it easy. Before the cruise, Mark and I had not gone into Sagrada Familia, so I decided to go back and spend more time there. And instead of walking the two miles from my hotel, I would take the subway.

Well, I seem to have chosen the least efficient subway entrance for the line I needed, and then when I transferred, another long underground walk was required. So I probably should have walked to the church in the first place, because it didn’t feel like I was saving any time – and then I would have seen the city, not its tunnels.


This being a weekend, a crowd was gathering. To get in, I had to stand in line for about half an hour, but it was totally worth it. The interior is far from finished, but there is a great exhibit explaining Gaudí’s influences from nature (the columns are meant to look like tree trunks, for example). And in the basement, there’s an even larger exhibit chronicling Gaudí’s life, work, and death under the wheels of a tram. Oops.


Armed with this knowledge, and fed up with the subway system, I walked the several blocks to one of Gaudí’s other masterpieces, the apartment building known as Casa Milà. Though the building is occupied, you can pay to enter its public spaces, including the roof. This time the queue of tourists was around the block, so forget it. My feet hurt! I can’t stand in another line.

Save it for another trip. I would definitely return to Barcelona.

Casa Milà is on the street named Passeig de Gràcia, which is lined with grand buildings that try to outdo each other with their fancy facades. So I turned to walk down this posh boulevard, with its designer boutiques and elegant hotels. Unfortunately, you just can’t get a good enough angle on any of the buildings to capture the whole facade in one shot, so I gave up trying. I’ve been a photo-taking fool, so it was nice to be off duty.

The street took me back to Plaça Catalunya, not far from my hotel and the top end of Las Ramblas. I had high hopes for this enormous square – but where were the young lovers, the protesters, the crazy people? The scariest thing I saw was children feeding pigeons. And then there was Bicycle Guy, standing all alone in the bull’s-eye of the plaza. I think he was waiting for his Craig’s List date to show up.



After a lingering lunch/sore foot respite, I decided to take another wander through the Gothic Quarter. Mark and I had grazed it before the cruise, but it would be my last chance to scratch the old-European-buildings itch for a while. I found the Picasso Museum, but didn’t go in. I saw young lovers, but found the guy too slimy to photograph. I entered numerous hipster shops and bought my nephew a funny T-shirt. I was too tired for culture, but I’m never too tired for a laugh.


The streets are such a maze that even with my mad map skillz, I got lost. Eventually I found myself back on Las Ramblas. Some kind of loud, nutty gathering was going on – honestly I couldn’t tell if it was a political demonstration or a gay pride parade.

Thanks for one final wacky memory, Barcelona. I hope to be back. But for now, it was getting dark. Adios.