Partie 2 - No pasa res*

* That's Catalan for 'not a problem'

So, Thursday afternoon we arrived in Barcelona! As the plane rolled across the tarmac I could see red mountains through the windows. Not a sight I've seen before. We took a bus to the city centre, to La Rambla, which is a long pedestrian walkway that cuts through the city all the way down to the ocean. A tourist, busker, and therefore pickpocket hotspot, it was teeming with people. I felt a bit silly pulling my carry-on behind me like a pet dog, but it was fun to walk around and see a bit of the city. Laura bought me a cup of horchata, which is a sugary white drink made from some sort of nut. After a little wandering we bought a booklet of tickets that would take us to and from Terrassa, the city where Laura's friends live. It's an easy 45 minutes by train from Barcelona. On the train, we sat across from a man who's hands Laura was 'discreetly' admiring in English. Turns out, he was from Denmark and spoke perfect English.

In Terrassa, we stopped by at the store Traces to see Jordi. Laura had been an au pair for Jordi and his wife Martha the summer before last. Traces is like a Spanish version of Mountain Equipment Co-op. Terrassa is relatively close to the Pyrenees, and a large part of the population is crazy about mountain sports. Biking, hiking, running, climbing... One of Martha and Jordi's friends just finished climbing one of the Himalayan mountains. We hung out with Martha, Jordi, and their two little boys Bru and Bernat. In Spain they eat dinner quite late, so we went out for tapas at around 10pm. I can't even imagine what a Spanish person would think of Canada where restaurants close around then... in particular Lunenburg, where restaurants close at 9 on a Friday... But back to the tapas, they are little appetiser-sized plates of various food, and they are meant to be shared. Laura's friend Albert joined us, and after dinner the three of us went to meet up with Jordi and his guy friends (they have a boy's night every Thursday). We met up in an Irish bar, where I smiled, sipped, and nodded at the rapid Catalan conversation.
*(A little side-note on Catalan - I regret to say I didn't think it was anything more than a dialect of Spanish before I got there. Turns out it's a full on Romance language with aspects of Spanish, French, and Italian. My limited Spanish capabilities were rendered relatively useless in this part of the country. What's more, many people in Catalunya see themselves as Catalan before Spanish, much like many Quebecois. Some hold this perspective to such a degree that they refuse to speak Spanish and would rather the region be independent.) Anyway, when the men left, Albert, Laura, Enric (another friend who had joined us) headed out to another bar called Sputnik. We met a few more locals, and then headed home fairly early. My feet were screaming in pain, so Laura and I sat down on a little bridge on the walk home for a rest. We somehow got on the topic of lullabies, so we gave a lullabye concert to each other and... I guess anyone else, if they were listening.

On Friday we woke at our own pace (aka mid-day for me), had a yummy breakfast, and then took the train back to Barcelona. Having done absolutely no research ahead of time, I had no idea what to see. So we walked around, saw the outside of the Segrada Familia (a church started by Gaudi, that has been under construction for the last 150 years), but didn't go in because it was too expensive. We wisely spent our money on gelato instead. I wish I had looked up what to do, because I think the city holds a bunch of treasures I didn't get to appreciate because I didn't know they existed. Nevertheless, in the evening we made our way down to the beach to meet up with Laura's Canadian friend Robin, who's living in Barcelona for a work term. We hung out on the beach for a bit, stuck our toes in the Mediterranean, and then went to check out Robin's apartment. It was great - old exposed beams, several rooms, and right in the heart of the city. Rob gathered up some overnight stuff, and then the three of us headed back to Terrassa. When we got back, we put the boys to bed, and then went out for tapas again. And then the partying began! There's one street where there are three bars, so we met up with some friends and bar-hopped. It was great fun to go out dancing, but a little difficult to breathe in the bars. Spain remains one of the Western countries that still allows smoking in eating/drinking establishments. The Spanish can party all night, but my Canadian body was used to the bars closing at 2 or 3am. I lasted a bit longer, but then headed for bed. I know, so lame.

Saturday we slept in again, then spent our afternoon hanging out in Terrassa. We stopped at a bakery for a little mid-afternoon snack, and then took the train back to Barcelona and then the bus to the airport. On the bus, Laura looked out the window and saw her friend Enric, who is from Terrassa but was in the city for a bike race. The bus drove away before we could get his attention, but what a strange coincidence! We got to the airport in good time and had some unappetising airport food for dinner. And then, we saw him. The World's Most Beautiful Man. We openly stared for a minute, and only half-joked about going to ask him if we could take his picture. Probably best that we didn't, but that would have been a great souvenir. Shame. By 8:15, we were getting on the plane and saying adeu to Barcelona.

To be continued...