Barcelona Arrival

Flavia buzzed us in. The ancient caged elevator with wooden doors steadfastly refused to budge, no matter how many times the button was pushed or the doors adjusted … so with a heavy sigh we hitched up the bags and trudged upwards .. forgetting that in Spain the first floor is NOT counted as “one” … the second floor is. And because there is also an entrance level, we actually had SIX floors (pisos) to climb. A workout indeed! Comfortable bed, clean bathroom, great view plus a friendly cat and dog thrown in.

The weather forecast on board the plane had shown nothing but rain and thunderstorms for the next few days, so making the most of the current sunshine was important, and we set off for a quick peek at the Sagrada Familia … the inside could wait until tomorrow.

What a sight! Even partially constructed, it was an amazing creation. Begun in 1882, Gaudi took over the project when the original architect resigned, then devoted the remainder of his life to its construction. He died in 1926 and is buried in the crypt below the Basilica. Six of the spires have been completed, but a further ten are still to be finished – one can see the cranes towering over the building like strange mechanical praying mantises. Each side of the building offers totally different styles and designs … and with construction going on for so long, the building materials have changed in colour and form. Gaunt, angular religious characters, like those in Cervantes, peer down at you … while others are almost futuristic. Quite boggles the mind that just one man could have conceived such wildly divergent styles and flights of fancy.

On the way back to the apartment, a shop selling ham enticed us in and we purchased a couple of baguettes with jamon for later.

The open central column around the elevator shaft did a magnificent job of amplifying every sound tenfold, resulting in a ‘symphony’ of heavy door slams, creating elevator, gossiping neighbours, children playing and one rather talented trumpet player practicing an astonishingly eclectic repertoire, encompassing the themes to Jurrasic Park and Game of Thrones, When the Saints go Marching In, a smattering of Jazz and a rather fetching medley from The Sound of Music. It was impossible to sleep, despite 20 hours of travel and a couple of almost sleepless nights … even with earplugs. So on with our shoes, and we strolled through the late night balmy streets, redolent with the rich smells of flowers, food and occasional drain. At a lively bar a mere two streets from ‘our’ place we found an outdoor table to sit and people-watch, and let a cool glass of Estrella beer settle the dust. All was quiet back at the apartment and sleep came quickly this time.