Beautiful Barcelona

May 2, 2012

Barcelona, Barcelona, Barcelona was all I seemed to hear from those who had visited this beautiful Spanish city before. So there was no question that I would plan to go ashore at our next port. Tim and Karen were adamant about it, so the morning coffee that day was focused on ensuring that we left with enough time to accomplish all we could in that magical city that we would only visit once during our Mediterranean season. We were still, after all, on our crossing, and this would not be a port to which we would return during our season. Paola would not be joining us on this expedition so it would just be our terrible trio.

We left in a reasonably timely fashion although, once again, we seemed to be waiting for Miss Karen. Karen, why is this so since you are the first of the lot of us to get off work each morning? No matter, as we were eager for the trip ashore. Barcelona requires a bus or taxi ride from the terminal to get to our desired destination which is a magnificent pedestrian shopping district through the heart of the city. After some fancy maneuvering around the crowds at the dock we found ourselves a cab and proceeded as planned to Las Ramblas. And ‘ramblas’ we did. Karen ensured we were set for the adventure ahead by frequenting the first money exchange shop she could find. Unfortunately, or ‘fortunately’ depending on your view of things, this money changer was right next door to a rather unusual shop. How can I put this for a PG-13 audience? This was a shop of the ‘adult persuasion.’ Given that it was a fellow Brit’s birthday on the ship, Tim and Karen decided to properly embarrass him with a rather ‘provocative’ gift from this shop. I will say that I was amazed at the imagination that went into the marketing in this shop, was stunned by the bar that was attached to the back, and glad when we managed to escape its environs with a decision not to carry the offending item through the streets of Barcelona but to drop in on the way back.

Las Ramblas was fully engaged with shops, bars, and restaurants from end to end. The decision was that we could find a comparable place to eat for far less than they charged in this more touristy venue and so we strolled the length of the boulevard. As we progressed we saw an innumerable assortment of crew mates enjoying the food and beverage on this happening thoroughfare. The other thing that one needs to look out for in these areas is the omnipresent pickpockets. However, Tim and I were well prepared with very little on our persons and hands free to deflect curious interlopers. Without question, Barcelona is a beautiful city. For the second time in three ports my mind raced to San Francisco, as we combined the city vibe with the beautiful views. Barcelona’s weather was much more temperate, of course, but I know where my heart still is. As we walked to find food we identified other local establishments we wished to frequent on our return trip, which made keeping an eye on the clock of paramount importance.

Eventually we found our desired destination, a tapas restaurant just off Las Ramblas but still enjoying the street café vibe and the excellent Barcelonan food. The meal, as was our pattern, was full of too much excellent food, just enough excellent beverage, and an abundance of laughter, bad photographs, and hysterical conversation. Oddly, though, in a city of this size in a foreign land we did not escape unnoticed. As we approached our lunch spot Karen recognized a passerby on the street, a former crewmate from years past. This is the oddity of ships. You can be in a large foreign city and still see a familiar face!

We dawdled far too long over lunch and realized we needed to hurry to complete our other errands. Tim make a quick and efficient stop for necessaries and then we went to a British Walmart equivalent for clothes (H&M, I think, but my British friends can correct me.) Karen was the prime instigator of this trip and scored large on this excursion, but Tim found an item to his liking, as well. As I casually browsed the store I also found a shirt unlike anything I could find stateside that I absolutely loved. It was the perfect fit. However, when I went to purchase it at the register we found it had no tag and they could not figure out the price. Eventually we agreed on an fair price, but I may now be the proud owner of a very nice and clean shirt left by a former shop lifter. Oh well.

Fortunately for me, our time grew so short that we were not able to return to our original and somewhat compromising establishment. With time of the essence we grabbed a quick cab ride back to the port as our day in Barcelona grew to a close. But Barcelona, I think I love you . . . and I plan to return. Definitely!

And the adventure continues . . .