Even though I was sick, I liked Barcelona right away. It has a more artsy feel than other Spanish cities and, thanks to the remodel for the Olympics, it has newer transportation facilities and is very easy to navigate. I took a room at the “legendary” Kabul backpacker’s hostel right on Plaza Real, next to the entertainingly crowded center of activity that is La Rambla. It is a kilometer long boulevard with a center pedestrian strip of cafes, pet shops flower shops, street performers of all types, lots and lots of people, and an endless source of people watching entertainment.
I had been traveling since Granada with Peter, a classic rough and ready Aussie, and had followed his lead to the accommodations. At first, I was pleased with the hostel, if not my noisy roommates. After all, free breakfast and dinner, free wi-fi, good lockers, great location, and cheap too. I was feeling really lousy and decided to spend the first day in the city in the hostel resting, doing laundry, and catching up on blogging. It was good to relax for a day even if I felt like crud.
The evenings were where I changed my mind about the hostel. The hostel is very slick and well designed to handle large volumes of people. Specifically, people who fly in to party all night and then fly home—not backpackers. There is no guest kitchen or any place that even vaguely resembles a quiet place to sit. The hostel’s main mission is to ply its patrons with cheap beer (2 liters for 4 euro during happy hour) and pummel their brains into party mode with excessively loud dance music. Forget trying to use Skype for anything but text chat. Then trying to sleep with 11 roommates who thought the dorm room was party central until 4 am was not fun. I politely asked them to be quiet or go somewhere else with no effect. Only after I asked them impolitely with a particular four letter word they realize that that tall guy with the blanket and eye mask was serious about sleeping.
I was in no mood for crowds so I went up to beautifully serene Montserrat, about an hour out of the city. A very steep aerial tram carries you up to the monastery perched in the rocky mountains. I walked the route up to the highest chapel; a two and a half hour trek that only took me an hour. And then I rock climbed to the top of the mountain above. It was an excitingly steep climb but the sun was shining and the air was clean and fresh and I could not help myself. At the top I was rewarded with a 360 degree view that took what was left of my breath away. On a weekday it is the epitome of serene-I did not see anyone for four hours. It was nice to sit and smell the wild rosemary that fills the air with its savory scent. Not wanting to go down the same way, I took the much quicker and even more exhilarating way down the other side. I reached another trail and made the mistake of thinking that the path leading down was the way down. Oops. I headed down the valley toward the monastery, climbing down rocks and steep trails. After I went a long way down, I discovered that unless I had ropes and real climbing gear, I would not be going any farther if I was to avoid a painful death. Nothing else to do but to hike back up. Way up. I was already exhausted and the opportunity to get the tram back down was running quickly out. By the time I made it back up I was covered in sweat and strangely itchy. Cue the ominous music here.
I got back to the hostel and took a shower, noticing that I was not only itchy, but also rather patchy red all over. This was bad. I was not feeling like a happy camper. Luckily, I found a pharmacist that spoke enough English to tell me that he thought it was my laundry soap not anything from the mountain. The previous day I had washed everything I owned with the cheap soap from the hostel. Doped up on Clariton and armed with new soap, I proceeded to rewash everything a couple times. The guy was right and the next day I was much better, still sick though. The exertion from climbing was not good for me I think.
I could not stand the noise of the hostel any longer and moved to another eight blocks away. The advertisement said free wi-fi and a kitchen. Of course, after I checked in and paid, I discovered there was no wi-fi and the kitchen was only a sink and a refrigerator. Insert explicative here. The room however was better. Each bed was in its own cubicle with curtains, a light, and an outlet. And quiet roommates.
The city:
The creations of Antoni Gaudi in the city are stunning. Sagrada Familia, La Pedrera, park Guell, among others will leave you stunned. The man was either a genius or a lunatic or possibly both. They are definite must see places if you get anywhere near Spain. I also hit the Picasso and Dali museums. The Picasso museum here gives a good over view of his entire oeuvre, although I like the collection in the Paris museum better. The Dali museum is just plain disturbing. Disturbing as in a so-bizarre-I-can’t-look-away fashion. There is no question that he was either doing some serious drugs or was totally insane. I loved/hated it.
Barcelona is great for such a large city. I saw a lot that I do not have the energy to write about at the moment and there is much I missed that I will have see on another visit. I am too under the weather to really enjoy it.
