Barcelona (Part Five)

Well, it's finally here. The final episode of my trip to Barcelona.

I was woken several times during the night, particularly at 5.45 when someone was watching loud TV next door. My alarm went off at 8.30 and I got up at 8.40, after snoozing for a while. I then discovered that if all the lights are off, then all electricity in the room is off so my phone hadn't been charging all night and now had low battery. Great. I'm going home with no phone. I had egg, bacon, BAKED beans, toast (mmm), tea and juice (gonna need to lose weight soon), picked up my packed lunch and said goodbye to the mother and daughter I shared a transfer with when I first arrived. Thank you for keeping me company!

I then discovered that the reason there was no music last night was that when I was in Barcelona the previous day, a father and son had been killed while posing for a photograph at Tossa beach. The family had been staying at the hotel. It was a very sad event. I later heard the full story on GMTV morning news. You can read the full story here which corrects what I was told at the hotel.

I had noticed on the day when I walked round Tossa de Mar that the waves seemed extremely strong around the beach. I am very sorry for the family's loss.

I went back to my room and packed, checking items against my original list as they went into my bag. Hoping I had everything, I left the room and returned my keycard at Reception, five minutes before check-out at 10.

I walked back to the shop where I bought postcards and my camera and browsed for a little while. I went back to the hotel and rang Resorthoppa to confirm the pick-up time and place. It then began to rain. It had been forecast to rain every day I'd been there but it had held off until I left. Obviously Spain was sad to see me go.

I sat and waited, praying that everything went okay to get me back home. I went outside and stood under the hotel's canopy at 10.55, waiting for the taxi transfer. About 2 minutes later, a taxi pulled up and a man came out and shouted 'Girona Airport', mainly to me. I nodded and ran forward, putting my suitcase in the boot.

We were off, and I double-checked that, a) we were going to Girona airport, b) we'd get there in time for my flight, and c) I wasn't paying him! He muttered something about not being able to control the meter.

I kept my eyes peeled for roadsigns along the way as soon as I realised I didn't recognise the road, I ain't being kidnapped!

But I arrived at the airport at 11.40. I checked my bags, passport and flight details, and then thanked the driver. I made a note of the gate number and sat down, watching the clock, and my bags.

The queue for checking-in was huge, it spanned the length of the airport. Forget that, I thought, no magic queue-destroying toilets here. So I sat and waited for the queue to dwindle before joining it a few people behind the desk. At 12.50, I checked-in and went into the departure lounge. I bought some food for the flight and saw a big queue already at Gate 8, and as that one actually determined the seat I got on the plane, I joined it straight away. And I'm glad I did, as soon that queue was the length of the departure lounge. I waited for 20 minutes and then got through. I went round to the back entrance of the plane as there was a big queue for the front and there was no one round at the back. Isn't the public smart? I turned my mobile off and got a window seat. This time, two people sat next to me but I didn't mind. I wasn't in the middle seat.

The pilot announced that there might be turbulence over France, great, I LOVE turbulence. The plane left on time and I looked down at the dramatic landscape, Spain is much more mountainous that I thought.

The seatbelt sign went off and I ate my food. I found that if you relax and read or eat then the flight is much more comfortable. Usually I just sit there stessing about claustrophobia etc but I was fine going back. Another lesson learned. The Pyranees looked lovely, covered in snow. The air clouded up until we reached France, and then there was no turbulence.

Well, I thought, I've broken my last food links to Tossa Beach, unless I vomit up breakfast, or something equally as bad, like last night's dinner.

The descent started at 14.30, thankfully my head wasn't as painful that time. I saw my bottle of water crumple up under the pressure change and thought, that's what my head is trying to do.

We landed 25 minutes early at 15.00, which is good. I found that I didn't particularly like RyanAir, apparently they're the worst airline environmentally, I read that somewhere. But this article doesn't improve my thoughts on that airline. I might even avoid flying with them in the future, despite arriving early on both journeys.

There was a huge queue at Passport Control but it was quite fast moving. I came out to the carousel and the very first bag I saw was mine, I ran to catch it before it disappeared and left the airport quickly. How painless was that! I hoped that my luck would continue. I went to the toilet (nothing I can miss now) and then went outside to the Derby bus stop. Hmm... there's just a dot where it should say how long til the next bus. I asked at the Information desk and they said it should arrive any minute. A few minutes later, the screen changed and said Derby - 30 mins. But the bus actually arrived 8 minutes later. I bought a ticket to Derby train station (£2.80). The bus got very crowded but I had a seat. The driver seemed very friendly, no bus driver in Birmingham is as friendly as that.

There was a nice woman behind me helping a foreign family out, who were going to the train station too. I think I heard the bus driver call her Dot. But she asked the driver to let the family know when they were at the station, which he did do. I bought a ticket to my closest station for £10, back to the land of extortion. Two minutes wait and then a train to Cardiff Central, next stop B'ham New Street arrived. My luck continued.

Forty minutes later, at 17.30, I got to Birmingham New Street and there was a 4 minute wait for the next train to my house. It all worked well in the end.

I got home at 18.10, with a sausage casserole and my family waiting for me.

It was a great trip, and I did it all for under £230, I had just over 1 Euro left in change. I was so glad to be home after a successful holiday.

Barcelona (Part Three)

This weekend I did my TEFL course in Birmingham and I will post some information about that once I have finished all these posts about Barcelona!

So, the hotel seemed nice enough, except that the entire town was in the midst of that powercut. So, no food and no room. And I was so tired!

But I did what I could. I checked-in and got my uberly cool blue 'All-inclusive' band. They had some cold sandwiches in the restaurant so I had some of them. And so began the being-careful-with-what-I-eat phase of my holiday. I had read reviews of the hotel online before I went - and they seemed to mainly warn against the food.

As I was sitting at reception waiting and waiting, a British man came down and starting shouting at the receptionist "Why is the power off?! My girlfriend is upstairs ill because of your food and we can't even watch TV! It's not even funny!" and then stormed off. Hmm... what have I gotten myself into here?

Then the staff started arguing with each other in front of me for about 10 minutes, ending finally with one of them storming off and the other muttering something very rude about his mother. Which my Spanish-speaking friend David had told me the week before was the worst thing you can say to someone in Spanish.

At 12.30 they told me that my room was ready. Yay! I take my suitcase up through the winding corridors - of course I get lost and spend 10 minutes looking for the room in the labyrinthine hotel. I finally find it and it's freezing cold in there! But I unpack and make all my things neat in the cupboards etc. Then I lie down.

That lie down became a 3-hour siesta. I woke up at 16.00 and dragged myself off the double bed. Nice and comfy. As I went to the toilet, the lights flickered back on and I cheer in my head. I promptly turn the heating up to 30C, which may have been a bit excessive, but I was cold!!

I turn on the TV and watch 'Friends' in Spanish on channel Cuatro. And 'Friends' is on channel 4 in the UK. Why need I ever feel homesick? As I'm so sad, I know exactly what episode it is, even though I can't understand a word. "I'm Dr. Monkey!"

The only UK channel is ITV1. Great choice Spain.

So I did not a lot for a few hours and then went down for dinner at 18.30. It's true what the reviews said about the restaurant. There is a funny, not unpleasant, just funny, smell as you go down the stairs into the basement restaurant. I eat some chips, chicken, salad, bread and some weird potato balls. There were some odd looking dishes being served - definitely avoided those!

I went back to my room at 19.15 and had a lovely hot bath for half an hour. I rang home to say goodnight and then, realising that in the last 31 hours, I'd had 4 hours of broken sleep, I fell into bed at 9 and woke up at 9 the next morning.

It was lovely sleep. I woke up feeling properly refreshed but I know I could have slept for many more hours. I got up for a shower and then realised that I couldn't work it, so it was another bath for me.

I went down for breakfast and ate egg, sausage, bacon, nice toast (maybe it was Bimbo ***** that may have given it away) and butter beans in a tomato sauce (ew).

Then I went out for a wander to see some of the town. I used the internet in the hotel's reception and emailed home. Then I bought postcards and stamps, and a disposable camera. I then followed signs up the road to the main Tourist Information office.

Saw a nice random swirly thing in the middle of a roundabout and the bus station behind. I got information about buses to Barcelona from the TI office and then headed back to the hotel to write and post the postcards (they arrived a week after I got home, oh well).

When I was in my room, the lights randomly went out. Not another blackout! I checked the lights in the hall and they were on. I walked down to reception and told them that the lights had gone off. They wrote it down and said they'd check it out. I went back up to the room and found a slot for my keycard which turned the lights back on! I took my card and walked down to reception again to tell them it was fine. Got back, and the lights went off again. Hmm... I can't be bothered.

So I ignored the lighting problem and went for lunch at 12.30. Chips again - it was all I trusted. Who can mess up chips? And some kind of red meat, with lettuce (actually very nice and crisp) and grated carrots.

I left the hotel for an afternoon wandering round Tossa. As soon as I stepped out of the hotel, I was hit by the humidity. The air was so thick and dense. I couldn't see the tops of all the hills surrounding the town, mist covered them. But I went for my hike/ photo-marathon.











It was around siesta time, so although everything was closed, it was lovely as I seemed to have the entire town to myself.

After going down to the beach, I then headed up towards the castle.
























I walked all around the town, up to the castle and lighthouse, back into the centre, then all the way up into the hills and back down, via this pretty church that chimed the whole way through my walk. I stopped at a beach-side Heladaria and bought a Chocolate & Stracciatella ice cream for 2.90, an old favourite from Italy. And it was good.


I walked back to the hotel and got a Coke and a beer (it's free!) and headed up to my room at 15.45. I looked down at the street from my room and planned my trip to Barcelona using the travel guides and the bus timetable.















I ordered a packed lunch for the following morning and then, in my OCD-style, made a chart with everything I wanted to see in Barcelona, the closest metro station and the metro line it was on. You don't have to tell me, I know I'm cool.

I ate chicken in breadcrumbs, chips (again), carrots, lettuce and bread for dinner at 6.30 and then went for a walk along the seafront in the dark. I did take some photos but they didn't come out well in the dark so I won't post them. It was lovely and quiet, deserted almost. I rang home once I was back in my room and then had another bath (wish I knew how to work the shower). I was in pitch-black for almost the whole time as the lights had taken to switching themselves off again. But then I finally figured out that I needed to keep my keycard inside that slot to keep the lights on. Is this a common thing in hotels and I was just being really dim? Probably.

I put my clothes and bag out for tomorrow. I was very excited, big trip! I got into bed and was kept awake by loud people below me. I knew I'd get the room above the bar. So I put my earplugs in and settled down for sleep - I needed it.

Next post, the big trip itself - Barcelona!

Barcelona (Part Two)

Last time you saw me, I was sitting in Ritazza near the security check in East Midlands airport, and now... I'm still there.

There was absolutely no chance of sleep near the cafe, it was manned solely by a boy probably not much older than me, who was obviously not very happy about working the night-shift. He played pumping music throughout the whole night, ignoring being asked to turn it down several times. But I didn't mind, I didn't plan to sleep. (You can check out how people rate airports to sleep in here).
I just felt sorry for the people lying on the seats nearby who definitely did want to sleep. And he kept going for cigarettes outside, leaving the whole cafe to me! If I was the manager there, I would've had his head.

I had had a painful shoulder the night before which had kept me up for several hours so I was armed with Ibuprofen, as I knew it would not be a particularly comfortable night, spending over eight hours sitting until I got to Spain.

Overnight, I amused myself by reading, re-drafting my novel, wandering around to find my check-in desk and the toilets. Surprisingly, this vast array of activities made time pass quite quickly. Maybe it was because I was slightly nervous about checking-in and everything - I've never done this before on my own!!!

I got up to check-in at 4.30am and realised that the queue was huge, the whole length of the hall. Forget that! I went to the toilet and came back, it was half the size. Magical queue-destroying toilets.

There were no problems at check-in, but the woman was very moody - as I worked at Cadbury World, I could have taught her a few things about customer service.
Lesson One - don't look like your about to stab yourself in the head because you can't stand serving one more happy family.

I was bleeped at security but I expected that, I've never gone through one and not set it off. I was violated, then made my way to the departure lounge. Another Ritazza! But it wasn't open. I saw the spot where my family had sat earlier this year when we went to Venice but didn't go there. I wandered up and down through the shops, listening to Gwen Stefani over the radio. There was some interesting stuff, including a stand full of 1,000-pack cigarettes so as I approached I was bombarded with 'Smoking kills', 'Smoking causes lung cancer', 'Smokers die younger' in letters the size of my head.

I stopped for a bacon roll and cup of tea, which I later realised was caffeinated. Damn, no sleep on the plane for me then. At about 6.00am, I checked the screen and I was told to 'Go to Gates 1-5'. There was a massive queue and slowly got massiver and massiver as it wound its way through a cafe (Ritazza again), past Gates 4, 3, 2 and 1 and back towards 5. Great. I joined it at virtually the end, the only people behind me were a group of 19-ish year olds who were talking about plane crashes. Wonderful. The queue was quite fast-moving and I was out in the freezing morning air. A man had stopped at a barrier a few people ahead of me and was waiting. The queue built up behind me until a flight attendant came out and showed him that he had to turn left and follow everyone else.
Lesson Two - don't roll your eyes at customers, they might fall out. Messy.
There was then a long, cold walk to the plane in the dark. I climbed aboard and asked a man in an aisle seat about 6 rows back from the front if either of the two seats next to him were taken. He said no and moved aside for me so I got a window seat. Woo! I like window seats for short plane journeys but for Japan I should probably try to get an aisle seat for my abnormally long legs. Obviously, the ideal situation would be a free row so I could get all the benefits but that's a long shot. I suppose it depends on how many Japanese people came here for New Year or how many British want to go to Japan at the beginning of the year. I would expect Japanese people to flight with JAL (Japan Airlines) though.

No one sat in the middle seat next to me, which I was pleased about.
I like taking off. It's one of the best parts of flying. Although for the last few trips I've taken, I haven't been great on planes. There's something about being trapped in a metal tube with a hundred other people suspended thousands of miles above the ground that makes me a little worried. But it went fine. There was nothing to see once we'd taken off because it was dark outside, and they'd turned the lights off inside, which was lovely as I started to drop off to sleep. But, alas, they turned the lights back on and the sun started to rise, blinding me. But I pulled the window blind down and looked down at some beautiful cloud formations. The snow had left a nice coating on the ground and, while it was still dark, cities that I caught glimpses of looked lovely all lit up. I watched the scenery until we'd passed over the Channel and France, then lay on the tray in front of me (albeit very uncomfortably) and had broken sleep until descent about 90 minutes later.

On the descent, my head was very painful. Not just a popping in the ears, but full on pain in my temples for 20 minutes. I looked down and saw my water bottle scrunching up and thought, that's what my head is trying to do.

We landed, in typical bumpy style, but with no problems (and 10 minutes early) at Girona airport. We stepped out into Spanish atmosphere (not my general experience, usually I step out in 30C, that time I stepped out into about 3C). With my breath condensing in front of me, I hurried into the arrivals lounge. I stood by the carousel for about 15 minutes and my bag was one of the very last ones. It couldn't have happened any other way.

I put the time on my phone forward 1 hour then followed the instructions I had received from Resorthoppa (hotel transfer company). I left the arrivals hall and found a woman and driver with a sign saying 'Resorthoppa'. I told them who I was and it turned out they were only waiting for two other people and I got straight into a taxi and then a mother and daughter (daughter in early 20s) followed me. Within two minutes we were off. That was far too easy, I thought. I checked I had everything with me and then rang home, letting them know I had landed safely.

The route was very windy, it went up into the mountains and followed the track cut sharply into the rock. The view was lovely, forested hills rolling in which ever direction I looked. There were so many examples of crazy Continental driving, not to generalise, but the car was either far too close to the edge, risking plummeting to a rocky death, too close to the middle so the car rocked as other vehicles passed, or just plain speeding and overtaking. The driver was listening to Flaix FM, which seemed to be a 'cool' English-music station and, to my joy, we passed a van full of Bimbo *****!

We pulled up to my hotel, Tossa Beach, and got our bags and everything out.



It looked nice from the front, I made my way up into the reception and stepped in. It's dark and cold!
I enquire at the desk and am told that the entire town is in blackout and they can't let me have my room until it is sorted.

Will the power come back on? Will I get my room? Find out, in Barcelona & Bimbo ***** Part Three, coming soon...