By the time I woke up on my own, around 6:45, there was no chance at all that I could make it to the station in time. I had missed my train. I didn’t get mad and I didn’t cry but I felt pretty defeated. Despite having missed it I went to the station anyway to see if there was anything I could do.
As soon as the train leaves the platform the window of “doing something about it” closed. My $270 ticket became nothing more than a piece of paper and wasted money. The money part really isn’t the end of the world for me since I planned a budget to allow for “emergencies,” however, the actually getting to Barcelona part needed to be remedied since my hostel was already booked and paid for.
I spoke to a ticket agent who informed me that the next 3 trains going from Paris to Barcelona were already sold out. After looking at the timetables I realized that even if I could get on a later train it would have me arrive after midnight and I’m just not comfortable with that.
Now I cried. Options were limited and I was frustrated and tired. All I could come up with was taking a last minute flight from an airport that was over an hour away. Not only that but the metro line that goes to the airport was having work done and extra delays were to be expected. Would I even get there in time to catch the only viable flight?
That was a chance that I felt no option but to take. I purchased the ticket on my phone, eventually found the proper metro platform and kept my fingers crossed that I could make it on time.
I did! In fact, I even had about half an hour to waste in the airport because of the way flights board. When I did finally board I guess the universe realized how horrible it had been to me this morning and it gave me a full row to myself.
Upon arriving I took the opportunity to charge my phone in the airport in hopes that I wouldn’t get lost trying to find my hostel. I downloaded offline maps at home and thus far they hadn’t been any use to me.
I managed to get off at the correct metro station but after that it got a little harder. Not every street corner has a sign so I couldn’t find the one I needed and when I did find it I also realised it’s on both sides of the main road going in opposite directions. I tried to ask someone but she spoke very little English. Eventually I had to hope my map was really accurate and I just followed the road that looked closest to the right curvature.
I walked for about 25 minutes, entirely uphill in 40 degree heat before stumbling in the door. I can’t think of a time in my life where I was sweatier or redder in the face.
After check in I expected to walk into a room with AC where I could just relax for a bit and cool down. That did not happen. No AC and no cooling down for the next 2 days, my personal version of hell. Besides taking a shower I did absolutely nothing else until I went to sleep, hoping tomorrow would be better.
Day 2 did start off better. I was determined to enjoy myself in Barcelona and see the sites, despite the fact that I hadn’t stopped sweating in nearly 24 hours. In between site seeing it would be my day’s goal to purchase a hat and not get sunburned.
La Sagrada Família was the one place I really wanted to see in Barcelona and my first stop. I had breakfast across the street and then stood casually next to an English tour guide so I could learn a little along the way.
Here’s what I found out:
-Construction on the basilica started in 1882 with a projected completion date in 2026.
-Gaudi, the architect, saw less than ¼ competed in his lifetime.
-There are 4 sides to the basilica, three of which represent the life and death of Jesus.
-Many of Gaudi’s design drawings were destroyed so no one knows exactly what the completed structure should look like.
I didn’t go inside since there was a 0% chance of me surviving hours in line under the hot sun and also because I just really don’t like that religious buildings have become money grabs.
I got back on the metro and did my best to figure out which stop would be closest to the sea, hoping that walking in the water would keep me cool for a while.
I never did find the beach but the air conditioned mall may have been even better. I shopped for a bit, mostly to cool down, and found myself a hat before changing plans and going to the aquarium next door.
The aquarium was exactly what I needed. Inside was dark and cool and the more tanks I looked into the more excited I was to be there. They have a massive tunnel tank full of sharks, rays, sunfish and many varieties of other fish. One room has penguins. And one very small, very dark room is dedicated entirely to jellyfish! I think they were my favourite.
After the aquarium I took myself for supper alone in a restaurant (!!!) The decision was no less difficult than when I did it in St John’s but in the end my hunger won and I had to stop being such a wimp.
My final stop of the day was to the Maritime Museum. I walked past earlier in the day and saw a giant sign about recreating the Titanic; I couldn’t pass that up. The museum had free entry when I arrived, and it’s a good thing too since I didn’t see one single thing about the Titanic in there and left a little disappointed.
Day 3 in Barcelona was a total write off. I really tried, but I just couldn’t get excited about this city.
My one and only plan for my last day was to visit Park Güell. I used the map to find what I thought would be the closest metro stop, knowing that I would have to walk a bit anyway. On the corner was a directional sign to help people like me find the park and so I followed it. I followed signs for about an hour, going in what seemed like pretty erratic directions before I finally clued in. Some signs are for cars and others are for pedestrians. Barcelona has many one way streets and therefore the driving directions are quite significantly different than the walking directions.
Eventually I decided to stop looking for it and that was about 5 minutes before I found it by accident. By this point I was so overheated and frustrated that I no longer cared that I had found it and didn’t have any desire to go inside. I felt a tiny bit guilty giving up and spending the rest of the day in the hostel but there is only so much heat and humidity I can take before I lose my mind.
I know I’m a minority, being the only person ever to have this opinion, but I didn’t like Barcelona. I didn’t want to be there from the time I arrived until the time I got on my flight to Lisbon. To be honest, I considered leaving many times and also considered not going at all when I was still in Paris.
This is what Barcelona taught me.
Shit happens. I don’t have to, nor will I enjoy somewhere just because everyone else does. Changing plans wouldn’t have been the end of the world, it’s just money. I don't like extreme heat. I don't like extreme humidity.
0 comments:
Post a Comment