I'm composing this post on our train to Valencia because I was too tired to tap my fingers on this tiny screen last night. A whole day out running around Barcelona will do that to anybody I'm sure.
We started the day off with breakfast a local cafe. Looking through the menu, we did not see a section for breakfast. Apparently Spaniards have little regard for the meal that Americans consider to be the most important one of the day. Nevertheless we ordered some eggs with bacon, and a small selection of tapas. There is a photo of the meal below. But as you will see it's just an empty plate- we were pretty hungry.
After breakfast we set out on what became a walking tour of at least a third of the city. At the Art Museum, we had a great view, much like the one from the Art Museum in Philadelphia. Geez Philly, can't you come up with anything original? I guess that's what I'd expect when you name your baseball team the 'Phillies'. Oops, did I go on an anti-Philly sports team rant in my Euro blog? I tend to do that.
We walked to the Estacio Sants train station to validate our rail passes and make reservations for our train trips. And by that I mean stand to one side while Ruben negotiated the transactions with the clerk in Spanish.
Strolling through La Rambla, we came across dozens of kiosks selling everything from flowers to guinea pigs. And guys with mouth whistles. Oh God those mouth whistles. Being good Americans we were hungry again, so we sat down in the outdoor patio of one of the many restaurants lining the pedestrian mall. Here Amy and I had our first taste of Spanish paella. It was a unanimous decision that the seabird one was better than the chicken one.
At some point we went into the Barcelon Metro. What followed was a comedy of errors unseen since Charlie Chaplin films. I wish we could have had Yakkity Sax playing in the background while I scrambled around the turnstiles, apparently constantly inserting my ticket into the wrong slot.
We took a tram up to the castle on Montjuic, which offered a really terrific view of the city and the sea around us. But apparently all they had to offer in the ways of information were posted on 15 orange poster boards.
For dinner we decided to stop at the first bar we saw coming out of the Metro to catch the second half of the Spain-Italy Eurocup game. We were seated directly next to a group of rowdy Spain supporters. I couldn't understand most of what they were yelling at the television but the words 'puta' and 'mierda' were being used quite liberally. The game ended in a 1-1 tie. The Spaniards seemed content with that. For a description of the tapas that accompanied our dinner theater I'll refer to to another post from Amy.
We picked up a couple of bottles of cheap wine from a bodega and hoofed it back to the hotel around 9. Exhausted, we sipped wine out of our hotel room glasses while we watched Team Ireland get massacred by Croatia with commentary from Ruben.
Waking up was difficult, even at 8:45. But here we are, about halfway to Valencia, flying past the green countryside on one side and the sea on the other.
-ming