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 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 was also an entrance level, we actually had SIX floors to get to the floor (piso) Phew . . .a work out indeed.  Comfortable bed, clean bathroom, great view plus, a friendly cat and and dog thrown in.

The weather forecast on board the flight had shown nothing but rain and thunderstorms for the next few days, so we wanted to make the most of the current sunshine. So off we set for a quick peek at Sagrada Familia cathedral . . .  the inside would be for tomorrow.

What a sight!  Even partially constructed, it was an amazing creation.   Started 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 and 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 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.  It

boggles the mind that just one man could have conceived of such wildly divergent styles and flights of fancy.  Quite delightful.

We indulged in a couple of crusty jamon rolls for later and headed back to the apartment. 

The central courtyard around the elevator shaft – from ground to roof, did a magnificent job of amplifying every sound tenfold, so the overall effect was a symphony of creaking elevator, heavy door slams, gossiping neighbours, children, and one rather talented trumpet player practicing an astonishingly eclectic repertoire which encompassed the themes to Jurrasic Park and Game of Thrones, When the Saints go Marching In, a smattering of Jazz and (oddly) My Favourite Things from the Sound of Music!  Despite being shattered from over 20 hours of travel and a couple of sleepless nights, it was impossible to sleep (even with ear plugs), so donned our shoes and wandered through balmy streets, redolent with the rich smells of flowers, food and the occasional drain before encountering a lively sidewalk bar a mere two streets away from ‘our place’.  There, a glass of Estrella settled the dust nicely and we returned to a quiet building and a much-welcomed sleep.