British Airways do not seem to fly direct from Toulouse to Barcelona, neither do anyone else for a sensible price, so I had to change at Gatwick, which sort of poked a hole in the true round the world idea, but then as I never really left the airport I can sort of overlook this minor misdemeanor and focus on the next proper location, Barcelona.
The French airport authorities are the only ones who seemed to care about checking baggage and even though my mini rucksack is tiny it still caused them pause for concern and I had to open it up for them. I am so very glad that only moments before I had rearranged the rucksack, in particular the stack of DVD's, and this appears to be what caught the security guards eye and with a cry of 'Au Voila' he proudly pulled out the suspect item, only to realise its innocence and his mistake and then much disappointed he gave it back to me and said that I could go through.
It never fails to impress me how they can be so very thorough on the going on plains, both in Toulouse and in Gatwick, but walking off with stuff they don't even batter an eye at you, and don't check that the rucksack of luggage that you take it actually yours or not.
I was both impressed and disappointed in the airport and Barcelona, for much the same item, the travellators / escalators. The moving walkways were rubber, allowed you to sort of moonwalk bounce down them without any real damage to your knees or ankles, but the pain was that I landed at one end of the airport and the baggage collection carrousel was right at the very other end, so I had to pass all the shops on the way to get my luggage { surely this is not a coincidence but a very clever marketing ploy on the Spaniards part ! }.
Once I had collected my luggage I had already decided not to take a cab, but to get a airport bus to the city centre, they run every six minutes and cost less than EU $5, so it would be just as quick and certainly a lot cheaper than picking up an airport taxi. I was not the only one to think of saving the pennies like this, but I was surprised that there must have been about 40 taxis all milling about, black with yellow doors and stripes making them look very funny indeed, sort of like a uniform group of renovated cabs as it were.
Just as I was about to get onboard the bus I happened to catch the ear of a passing lady, who was sin some distress together with her partner, their children and some friends. The Spanish airport car hire firm would apparently not let them have the two cars that they ordered on the internet a few days prior as they did not carry credit cards, despite having the money there in cash to pay for the lease. It seemed illogical to me that the authorities would not accept cash, but then perhaps it is something to do with the insurance.
Anyhow, we all got chatting and they sort of asked if I had a credit card, half as a joke and was very surprised when I said that I did and in exchange for the correct money would gladly put the two vehicles leases on my card.
I am sure that I would not have offered had they just been two lads, however nice they appeared, however with their wives and children in tow the thought of all of them having to try and struggle to get across and out of Barcelona by public transport without a map or idea of where they were heading and their first time in the country, it just cried out to my inner gentleman and sense of fair play, so my goodwill won out and I offered them a way out of their predicament.
Their appreciated was clear and I thought they were going to offer to adopt me at one point, but then I remembered that I was only meant to be here one night and so the longer I dallied here the less time that I would have in the city centre. So we thanked each other and I went on my merry way, happy that I could do a good deed and really earn the right to include the "occasional hero" blurb on the self styled business cards that I carry.
Once I found the right metro station I was at a loss as to where the hostel was, as I couldn't seem to find it despite having the map and address and knowing where it should be. The answer came when I counted down from a higher number and found that it was part of an old housing block, not very well advertised of visible form the street level and requiring you to press a buzzer to gain access. However having said that, all I said was Hola when the intercom sparked to life and they let me in, so its a bit like saying "its me" when someone asks who is it and being passed.
The hostel has some very funky ideas, like no keys to the rooms, no sheets or pillow cases but free internet, wifi and breakfast, and the fact that you can take the locker key with you is a bonus, as it meant that I could leave all my stuff behind regardless of who could get into my room and go investigating.
The city weather was hot and humid, but not actually that much sun, and so when you got to the beach the breeze coming off the sea was actually chilling rather than refreshing. Considering there is a high number of Asians and blacks I was mildly wondering why there are no massage places either here or in France, and the answer was that they go travelling along the beach offering sunbathers massages for EU $20.
As I had not really had any form of massage in ages, and I had been carrying my rucksack a lot in the last few days, I felt I could do with a little treat so accepted the offer when one approached me, but was a bit shocked when halfway through she disappeared from view as a cruising police car crawled along the beach edge looking for evil doers to arrest. Had I realised that the massage women were illegal I would have thought twice before accepting one in broad daylight on my first few hours in the city.
After the minor hiccup she completed her work on my legs and arms and then I paid up and walked back to my hostel.
Thankfully the attitude of restaurants is not as strict as in France, many close at 4pm to then open up again at 7 or 8pm but the main ones on the central strips stay open all day long. I could not seem to find a cinema on my wanderings so I settled on taking in nice seafood noodle and coke on the main strip before going back to the hostel and bashing out a few blog entries. The main strip, being Las Ramblas, also has many street acts going on, like the frozen statues that only move when you pay them, but these no longer amuse me as much as they seem the same in almost every city I see them.
As I was up early this morning and I will be out of here tomorrow I will probably get an early night and make the most of tomorrow, hoping for sun shine and clear skies again, before my train for Valencia leaves in the mid afternoon.
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