Barcelona - 20 September 2011 (2)

When we finally got off the train at the Passeig de Gracia, they had opened a gate so we could go up out of the station straight from the platform.  We emerged off the beaten track and off the map, but I headed downhill and to the right and we soon reached a familiar junction on the main road.

Barcelona was having a book fair, so we walked down past a near continuous line of book stalls.  This would be a great idea for Parliament Street one week, especially as Borders is now closed.  There are quite a few second hand book shops in York so they could be given stalls as well and sellers from outside town.  Perhaps I might write and suggest it.

The pigeons were casting long shadows on the square as we walked across.  People sell food for them so they are very tame.  As we walked through the feathered crowds, they were unfazed and barely moved.  One even preened itself right in front of us.

As we got our key from reception, someone tried to get a room for the several nights.  I listened in with trepidation in case he was quoted a much lower rate than I had paid.  I was relieved to hear that they were fully booked from Wednesday evening.

Fountain in Placa de Catalunya

After dumping our stuff and when my mum had cooled down, we headed through the square and went back to the bar of the previous evening.  Instead of sitting outside, we sat at the bar.  My mum had a shandy which they call a “clara” and I enjoyed a freshly squeezed orange juice.  All the bocadillos were laid out on the bar, so we were tempted to order three: prawns and crab; smoked salmon and cheese; and asparagus, as well as two tapas: mushrooms and patatas bravas.  The barmen started off being quite chatty.  The main one working on our section introduced us to his daughters, who were still small.  One wanted to be a bank manager and the other a dancer.  They were eating with three women, one of which was his wife.  We had another drink and then got the bill.

Fountain in Placa de Catalunya

Blue lights were flashing and we saw our third demonstration in as many days as we walked home across the square.  It seemed a half-hearted affair with the demonstrators being outnumbered by the police vans, let alone the police.  We went to look at the fountains which were all illuminated and then sat on a bench.  There was an argument going on at the next bench, where one boy was talking very loudly and was being pushed back on the seat by three other boys whenever he tried to stand up.  He said sorry and complained that they were treating him badly, but none of his friends sitting next to him even appeared to notice.  So we moved on and went to a shoe shop where, thanks to my excellent mime, my mum bought a pair of inner soles to help her aching feet.  Then we went back to our hotel to recover sufficiently for a day of walking round the old town the next day.