Brigitte – the one thirties
Thursday 19 September 2013. Day 130.
Up at seven thirty I have the porridge ready to go onto the electric ring as soon as the kettle has boiled for our cup of tea. Then I get set up for the coffee making ritual. By nine we are walking towards the main gate. Niki discovers that she has left her sun glasses in the van and heads back. As I stand waiting a gent from an English registered van walks up and asks if I am English and proceeds to offer me a ticket for the metro. With six remaining journeys on public transport this is the answer to the question that had us making increasingly vexing searches of the internet over breakfast!
No need to buy a city sightseeing bus ticket at €35 each, no need to buy a two day pass at €13.50, our travel had been gifted to us by the kindness of another who had been and was leaving. Sir, thank you.
The campsite bus was full with every seat taken and a number of standing passengers as we left. We sat in the back row and made room so that a Dutch guy could sit next to his wife. Six of us sat on seats designed for five but we managed and I wondered if anyone would return the favour on the return leg when Niki and I were amongst those who had a ticket to ride but no seat. As we later found out the answer was a resounding no.
Our driver delivered us outside the Hard Rock Cafe on Placa Catalunya where at nine forty five the buzz of tourists is incredible. We head to La Caixa bank to buy our tickets to gain entry to the Basilica. Despite trying various debit and credit cards we cannot make the machine take our money. A member of the banking staff steps in at Niki’s request and upon punching the button to complete the transaction in Catalan we get our tickets. Odd but true.
Filled with a puzzled glee we march off to the Metro station and having received directions from a Renfe (train) customer services staff member we head down to the metro gates and chat to a Metro staffer wh says we need to go one stop on L1 to Universidad and then change to L2 and go a few stops to Sagrada Familia.
Emerging into the daylight at the Basilica we are greeted by round the block queues which we walk past like “Guest Listers” at a massive rock concert. Our entrance is quick and painless despite the fact that the only tickets we could buy were ones which entitled us to an unguided tour.
As imposing as Gaudi’s masterwork is from the outside, inside it is truly incredible. The stained glass windows pour great pools of coloured light. If they represent anything it is not at all obvious to the untrained eye. There are certainly no bible stories or figures here. The place is a massive building site, one where people actually do as we have done – pay to come and inspect the work in progress! The construction work has been going on now for in excess of one hundred years and although things will be completed by perhaps 2030, there will no doubt be renovations that then will need to be done.
We spent an hour and a half walking around, inspecting, reading and taking photographs. I speculated on why it was that the omnipotent overseer had not protected Gaudi’s work during the Spanish Civil War when rebels burned Gaudi’s studio. Apparently moves are in progress to have Gaudi made a Saint. This has the ring of cash for peerages to my mind! Having decided that we had seen enough we found a terraced restaurant where we could relax on a seat, watch the world as it passed by and enjoy a drink and a dish of patatas bravas as our chicken paella cooked away. Paella takes about twenty five minutes to prepare and we were in no rush.
We watched the street cleaners as they pulled their cleaning wagons into the adjacent Repsol Sprint filling station. I guessed that before stopping for lunch or perhaps at the end of their shift, they have to refuel their vehicles ahead of returning them to the nearby depot. I knew the depot to be nearby as I noted a few of the staff walking up the street still wearing their fluorescent green trousers together with tops of their own choosing rather than the lime green of their uniform. People came to sit on the benches nearby, many chose only to smoke, some ate sandwiches. Most were checking emails, messages or making phone calls. On the road an illegally parked car was being attended to by a stream of officials. First a guy walked around it and inspected it before he commenced to make out a parking ticket which he affixed to the screen before leaving. Then another vehicle drew up and two guys got out. One took photos of the car. The other collected a trolley jack and they were well into preparing the car to be towed when a young man and his lady friend arrived. With much pointing at the car and the street signs the parking guys pointed out to the man the error of his ways. They agreed not to tow the car, packed up their kit and left for the next job. The young man retrieved the plastic pounch that had been affixed to his windscreen and probably discovered that although he had not been towed he has a hefty fine to pay. They drove away their excursion to Barcelona from Belgium, (a red and white number plate?) perhaps slightly soured.
We return to Playa Catalunya via the metro and wander down the Ramblas. We wander and we wander. I’m not sure what we were looking for or where we were heading. We stopped back on the Ramblas for an ice cream, then we walked into a b&w photo retrospective of the early days of the tech boom. We had a waltz around the market – La Boqueria. Then we walked along a street ninety degrees left at the top of the Ramblas before stopping in at Nurias for a coffee.
The trip back in the bus felt dreadfully long but was probably as quick as the journey into town. With the only difference being that we were standing. Back in the van we had an early supper and early night after a very tiring day walking around a hot and sticky Barcelona.
Friday 20 September 2013. Day 131.
Today we head into Mataro on the local shuttle bus. We arrive in time to catch the market and are able to buy a few organic tomatoes, figs and grapes. The stall holder has land adjacent to Camping Barcelona and they trade under the name Mas Via – whole world? We also find a shop selling organic oats and Niki manages to get an optician to replace the screw in her super cheap pair of reading glasses! As we walked down Carrer Santa Maria who should we bump into but Ed and Val our Scottish friends. We got chatting and agreed to find a place for a sit down and a coffee. We chatted amiably for a hour or more catching up on news and war stories. Ed’s van had suffered a broken fuel pump – the one in the fuel tank and then their alternator went on them. Both of these events happened at the start of this season’s outing to France. The fuel pump went on the tunnel terminal just as they were due to be loaded onto the train. They got taken back into the 24 hour area and Ed got a replacement fuel pump sent to a local factor. The RAC eventually collected it for him but they didn’t fit it. After reflection Ed fitted a fuel filter which he carried as a spare and this reduced the pressure on the fuel pump enough for him to drive to collect the new pump. I’m not sure who fitted it. The alternator went in France and Ed managed to get himself to an auto-electrician who repaired the rotor on the alternator – to the tune of €200!
We should think carefully about carrying more spares and also have a good service done on Brigitte in 2014.
We had time to quickly buy a loaf of bread for me and a few olives for us to eat at snack time before we made our way back to the stop to meet the bus. Luckily for us traffic ahead of the bus was holding it up. It had left the stop and we were able to hop on before he got underway!
Back at the campsite we lunched and then had some time relaxing beside and in the swimming pool. Supper saw off some more of the veal and piment de Espelette dish that we seem now to have been eating forever. I galloped through the end of Rough Music by Patrick Gale and have now started “The Tent, the bucket and me” by Emma Kennedy. This is an hilarious story of one family and their 1970’s camping disasters.
Saturday 21 September 2013. Day 132.
Today started as most others have done in the recent past since we arrived here at Mataro. Wake up around eight have a cup of tea and then take a relaxing breakfast outside under the awning to escape the heat of the sun. Our neighbours were today leaving in droves. Most of them it has to be said were Dutch. Perhaps there is a big return to work in Holland on Monday or perhaps this is symptomatic of the Dutch pension arrangements where people now have to work until age 67 to get their state pension.
We spent the morning relaxing by the van, reading. We took a leisurely lunch and watched as people arrived to fill the spaces vacated this morning. After lunch we went down to the pool and read some more whilst relaxing on the loungers. Niki kept in the shade and I put on some sun cream in order that I could sit in the sunshine without getting burned.
We spent an hour there before retiring to the van for tea. After tea we went back to the pool for a swim and lay out on loungers drying off before we showered and got ready for supper. With lentils we ate the last of the veal – hurrah! It is not that I disliked the veal. It was OK. I think now we have eaten it on four occasions in quite quick succession and I’m ready for a change!
This evening we spent writing out the flights in and out of Cyprus for October. We return, Paul and Luke arrive, Dave and Mandi arrive, D&M leave, Penny arrives, P&L leave and then Penny leaves. October will be a busy month for us! The change from living in the van could not be more abrupt.
We spend time opening and clearing two lockers, inventorying what will stay, putting things to go to Cyprus in one pile and things to recycle/dispose of in another pile. There are a further twelve lockers to go as well as five drawers and the cupboards and our garage. We shall be busy over the next few days.