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Barcelona
and the Costa Brava by Mike Cruickshank 28 July 1995 We (my wife Kim, our son Andrew and I) booked an apartment for a week at the end of August in Aigua Blava, on the Catalan coast near Girona. We allowed ourselves a night at each end to spend in Barcelona. Catalonia would not normally be my choice, preferring the cooler and less "touristy" parts of Spain. However, the occasional change is no bad thing. 25 August The flight from Heathrow to Barcelona was very comfortable, Iberia being the only airline I've travelled on so far which allows a decent amount of leg room. Barcelona airport was a pleasure: clean, light and airy, well signposted and with an efficient staff. Where signs were trilingual, they were in Catalan first, English second and Spanish last. The signs in one language only were in Catalan. I had heard that Catalan nationalism was alive and well, but I hadn't expected to be confronted by traces of it so soon. We picked up our hire car without any problems and after a short drive were in Barcelona itself. As luck would have it, we found a hotel straight away, the Sol Apollo near the bottom of the Avenida Parallel. This pleased me no end, as I had had visions of spending a long afternoon searching for somewhere to stay, and ending up hot, sticky, tired and bad tempered into the bargain. At about five o'clock, after we had settled in, we went out, walking a hundred yards down to the sea front. The first thing to catch the eye was a huge and elaborate column dedicated to Columbus. At the bottom of the column were eight lions, twice as many as Nelson has. (The lions at the base of Nelson's column are much larger and, dare I say it, much more dignified looking.) At the top of the column was Columbus himself pointing out across the Mediterranean - away from America. Perhaps he was just indicating the pedestrian area around the harbour. Very new (Barcelona was, after all, host to the 1992 Olympics), very pleasant and without any of the tackiness and plastic tat that mars so many British resorts. Crossing the harbour by a wooden causeway, we came to a shopping mall situated next to a marina full of pleasure craft. I normally avoid these shopping malls, but I was pleasantly surprised. It was well laid out, busy without being unpleasantly crowded, and without any souvenir shops selling garish junk. Prices charged in a snack bar were, as far as I could tell, quite reasonable. (As it turned out, they were only slightly higher than average). The only drawback was that the menu was written entirely in Catalan. From there, a stroll up la Rambla which again was crowded without being oppressively so - plenty of cafes and assorted buskers, Street performers and pavement artists. I was mindful of stories of pickpockets and other street thieves, but I feel that Barcelona is probably no worse than any other city in this respect. Certainly anyone who takes sensible precautions should be safe enough. Just off la Rambla we found the Boqueria, a huge covered market. Almost every town in Spain has one of these markets. In the smaller towns they are fairly basic; seasonal fruit and vegetables, bread, meat, local cheeses and wines. By comparison the Boqueria is magnificent. There was a large display of fish of all kinds, all absolutely fresh. Even on a hot August afternoon, there was none of the "fishy" smell one gets in so many British fishmongers, even the air-conditioned supermarkets. The extensive display of fruit and vegetables included some enormous peaches and the largest fresh dates I've ever seen. The butchers' stalls seemed to have every edible part of an animal on display, from skinned sheeps' heads (very disconcerting, being eyed by these) to pigs' trotters, with everything in between, liver, brains, lungs and some bits I couldn't identify (and suspect that I wouldn't want to). The only disappointment was the cheese stall, which was very limited compared with what one often sees in France. 26 August After checking out of the hotel, we went to look at the Familia Sagrada, Gaudi's unfinished cathedral. A marvellous confection in stone, beautifully executed, but not to my taste. Whilst the other two went in, I had a look round some of the local shops. I needn't have worried about the lack of tat down near the harbour; the shops here were full of it. Attracted by its Galician name, I went into the 0 Grove, a bar overlooking the cathedral. One look at the tapas on display made me instantly regret having pigged out at breakfast in the hotel. The Familia Sagrada having been duly "done", we set off for Aigua Blava. Leaving Barcelona was quite easy and we were soon on the motorway heading north. Gerona marked the turn off for the coast, and after only a few wrong turnings we reached Tamariu, where we were to pick up the keys to our apartment. I had had misgivings about coming to this part of the coast before we started, but by now I was horrified. I had known that the area was heavily developed, but there were more holiday homes round here than rat droppings in a granary. I was greatly reassured when we reached our apartment. The place was well enough landscaped both to ensure privacy and minimise the impact of the other properties in the neighbourhood. We found ourselves overlooking the sea, with the coast about half a mile down the road as the crow flies. Or should I say plummets? Some of the gradients were hair-raising. 28 August Today we went a bit further afield. From our apartment we could see the local parador (one of the state run hotel chain) on the other side of the bay. This proved to be of the modern clinical school of architecture. Although these places are, by definition, very comfortable, one look inside was enough to convince me that this was one of the blander ones. (For those who want an unashamed wallow in luxury, Los Reyes Catolicos in Santiago de Compostella can't be beaten.) Going through Begur (our local shopping centre) and down onto the plain, I was attracted to Pals, a small hill town. The Michelin guide dismisses Pals in one line as having a "weird medieval quarter". This whetted my curiosity. The medieval quarter, according to the quaintly worded local guidebook, had fallen into a considerable state of disrepair by the turn of the century. Since the advent of tourism in recent years, it has been expertly restored in the local sandstone. Most of the shops in the steep narrow streets sell either antiques or local ceramics. The stocks of the former were very limited. The ceramics looked lovely where they were, but would have looked very out of place at home. The view from the top the hill is worth the not too strenuous climb. 31 August A trip to Banyoles, about 30 km away on the other side of Gerona. It's a pleasant, nondescript town whose only claim to fame seems to be its lake, which provides the local area with water. We took one of the boat trips round the lake. The high spot of the trip for a group of elderly ladies seemed to be when we passed a trio of teenage boys about to take a dip. One of them was not only stark naked but very well endowed. The local Chinese restaurant featured "sweat and spur pork ribs" and "fried drawns". The whole holiday home set up is based very firmly on the car. No car - no transport. I didn't see a single bus in the rural areas and the nearest railway station seemed to be in Gerona. An unusually severe and prolonged recession or a sky high hike in petrol prices and great parts of this area would become a sort of ghost town. 2 September Back to Barcelona. We missed our turn off on the motorway and got seriously lost trying to find our way into the city. An hour later than planned, we reached the Parc Guell, which is a monument to Gaudi. Not being a Gaudi fan, the place struck me as a sort of Disneyland for grown-ups, fortunately uninhabited. A Gaudiesque Donald Duck in a bad mood doesn't bear thinking about. From there, back to our hotel on the Avenida Parallel. On the map this looked easy, because much of Barcelona is laid out on a gridiron plan. What the map didn't show was the city's system of one-way streets. Result - confusion, an unplanned tour of the city and yet more delay in getting back to base. By this time, I had had enough for one day. When the other two went out in search of the Picasso Museum, I went up la Rambla in search of a couple of beers. 3 September We took the funicular up Montjuic, and from the terminal, a steep walk up to the top of the hill for a superb panoramic view of Barcelona. The hilltop is occupied by a fortress, which now contains a military museum. From here we were able to take a cable car back down to the funicular terminal, passing over a funfair as we did so. Definitely not for those who have no head for heights. Next came visits to the Miro Foundation and the Olympic Stadium. The refreshment stands at the latter were, I felt, a rip-off. There is plenty to see on Montjuic, but one would need a full day to do it justice. After lunch we drove back to the airport, with plenty of time to browse through the airport, which is a delight to use. It was back to earth with a bump when we reached Heathrow. It took a hike of what seemed like miles to reach the baggage reclaim area, where four carousels were struggling to cope with the luggage from twelve incoming flights. Home, sweet home? Airline: Iberia. Plenty of leg room and adequate in-flight entertainment. Car: Rented through Avis, from and to Barcelona airport. If one is going to be driving on the "wrong" side of the road, one might as well have a car which is built for the job. As the car has Spanish licence plates, it is a less obvious target for thieves on the lookout for the unwary foreign tourist. Apartment: Booked through a company called Spanish Harbour Holidays. These are ideal for those travelling "mob handed". Language: Spanish is, of course, universally understood, but Catalan is widely used on street signs and is the only language used on the menus of the less expensive eateries. A knowledge of Spanish up to the level of the BBC's Espana Viva is adequate for day to day use. A pocket Catalan / English dictionary would be invaluable. Barcelona Metro: User friendly (except for the disabled) with a flat fare system and colour coding for the different lines. Preferable on occasion to the one-way systems at street level. First published in VISA issue 20 (spring 1996) |