Barcelona

6:30 AM feels awful early on the best of day much less a vacation day but, for reasons that probably seemed good at the time, we are booked on a 9:30 flight to Barcelona. For a country with a good network of high-speed rail, air proved to be the more efficient option a surprising number of times, although as I side-step into my tiny seat I wonder if perhaps the formula is lacking a few variables. Nevertheless, some 30 odd games of solitaire later, we have crossed the country and are touching down for the next stage of our adventure.

Our hotel is just off of Las Ramblas, the main pedestrian avenue, as is about as tourist-centric as possible. We are within walking distance of just about everything we plan on seeing and there are shops and cafes for blocks on end in every direction. Marriott has it in their system somewhere that unless the front desk staff want a visit from a disgruntled world traveler only the finest room will do. It doesn’t always work, but this time they seem to get the message. The room is tiny, but it is up on the 8th floor and one of only a few with balconies overlooking the city.

We take a few minutes to unpack and then step out onto the balcony to catch up on a few items back home. It only takes a few minutes, but for someone with such finely-honed sleeping skills, the transition from vertical to horizontal can happen in an instant. I swear that wasn’t here before.

Fast forward a few hours and back out the door on our way to La Boqueira, the old city market. Like Madrid, it has been repurposed for the tourists with grand displays of edibles.

As good as it all looks, reality is that everything is overpriced and gets tossed into a microwave to reheat just like it would at a 7-11. The higher function part of our brain knows this from experience but it still can’t stop my arm from pointing at one item after another. Some of it we eat, some we just can’t, and fortunately we run out of stalls before we run out of money.

Across Las Ramblas we happen by the world famous Dick Waffle. OK, the world famous part I just made up as this is the first we’ve come across the work of the creative genius who managed dared combine dicks with waffles. It’s pretty much what you imagine once you realize it isn’t something like shoe store that some poor guy named after himself.

I think of the commercials for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups that tell the story of how chocolate accidentally feel into the peanut butter and the rest is history.

One of our goals today is to get a sense for where we want to take in tomorrow’s soccer match. It is Barcelona versus Real Madrid, which is a legendary rivalry. We debated getting ticket to Camp Not to watch it live but, with COVID, stadium capacity is limited to 30% and it just doesn’t feel like the experience would be the same. Instead, our thinking goes that all of those fans will pack the streets and bars, and that we can partake that way.

We rack up a few miles heading down Las Ramblas to the port and then along the waterfront to the Barceloneta neighborhood. There are people everywhere, enjoying what must be another sunny, 70-degree, October day. We know storm is moving in on Seattle and, for just a flicker, feel a tiny bit guilty.

Paella for dinner, the best we’ve had since we got here, and then a long walk back to the hotel as we’ve managed to get ourselves quite far away.