Filed under General • 12-10-2007 •
9th October: We leave Bristol in the fog and rain and touch down in Barcelona in 21 degree heat, coming in over the cruise ships and the blue Mediterranean. The taxi driver doesn’t speak English, and we don’t speak Spanish. He drops us miles from the hotel and we have to limp around the narrow streets of the Gothic Quarter until we find it. We have a late lunch at a restuarant on the Vila de Madrid – ravioli with lamb, pine nuts and mint – then take a look at the Cathedral. My leg is hurting and I’m trying not to overdo it.
In the evening, there are taxi drivers smoking in the street beneath my hotel window; shutters and potted fearns opposite. The street hubub of Spanish voices bubbling along. The shops are open late, and families are still shopping and eating at 9.30pm. We go to a small restaurant near the catherdral and I eat fried rabbit with mushrooms and garlic.
10th October: I wake late and breakfast on cold meats and cheese. We walk along the Portaferrisa to the cathedral again, then under a decorated arch to the Gran Hotel Barcino. Stop for coffee, look at the statues in the foyer of the Barcelona Institute of Arts, then back to the hotel, where I listen to Spanish radio while waiting for the business meeting to start. I want to walk down to the beach but I don’t think I can make it that far with my bad leg.
Outside, rubbish lorries crawl through the narrow streets. Water runs down the central gutter from an overflowing drain in a side alley. A giant smiling buddha sits in a shop window. A paper mache camel guards the entrance to a covered market. And there are geese honking in the cathedral.
The afternoon’s spent in the meeting. My presentation goes down well.
In the evening, we take a taxi to another hotel, where we spend the evening dining on the 23rd floor, watching a massive electrical storm smash over the city. I eat octopus and lamb, watching the storm recede over the Mediterranean. I spend most of the evening talking to Sabine from Germany, who wants to write a fantasy novel.
After the storm, the streets smell fresh, washed clean of traffic fumes and cigarette smoke – the city’s two most dominant smells.
11th October: The meeting recommences at 8.30am local time (7.30am BST) and goes on until 12.45pm without a break. Afterwards, Linda and I have lunch at a cafe on La Rambla, opposite the Museu de l’Erotica. I eat garlic chicken and fried potatoes. I haven’t seen any vegetables since I got here – everything comes with fried potatoes and olive oil.
Outside, the middle of the street is full of stalls selling chickens, budgies, baby rabbits and parakeets. At the end of the street, in the Placa de Catalunya, we catch a tourist bus for a guided sightseeing tour of the city. The tour lasts two hours and takes in many of the famous landmarks, from the Olympic Stadium to the busy commercial container port.
We fly back to Bristol as darkness falls. The Mediterranean coast is a ribbon of yellow, quickly lost behind us. After that, the towns of France are dots of orange that slide past like the raked coals of glowing campfires in the night.
At one point, we see the lights of Bordeaux to our left and Toulouse to our right, and I realise we’re flying over the region of France where my sister lives.
