Ok. So from the last post you may have gathered I arrived in one piece to the land of flamenco, bull fights and paella. Only one problem – almost as soon as I landed I discovered this ain’t that land people !!
Barcelona, the capital of Catalonia, is by no means the Spain we or should rather say I had dreamed about of when drooling over Spanish heart throbs or picturing a steaming pan of prawn laden paella. No indeedy this is Northern Spain. Cataluyna to be precise . Not to say that bullfights and paella are not Spanish – they are very much so – but Southern Spanish. The North is the more conservative , colder more politically aware sibling next to the warmer , more carefree Southern Spain ( or so I am told). Southern Spain is flamenco , bullfights and paella. Not to discount Barcelona’s party heart it is legendary and for good reason. But be warned, if you think you are going to find the heart of Spain in Cataluyna think again, this is not the Spain you imagine. This is Catalan country.
What is Catalan you may ask ? GOOGLE it for Pete’s sakes. I haven’t got time for an in depth history lesson. More important things to write about dammit!
I will touch on Catalan nuances that I come across in coming posts – I’ll say one thing though : Spain has el Toro. Cataluyna has el Burro . Figure it out people….
So I landed and after making my way to baggage claims discovered I had no luggage to claim. I may have made it to Barcelona in 1 piece but my luggage was still in Holland . So there I stood begging the security guard at the gate to baggage claims to let me back in after I ‘d taken a wrong turn in my panic, not knowing whether to cry or laugh. I had no luggage, no idea where my future roommate was to pick me up – I was hopeless at this travelling thing. So I just kind of shlumped to the ground with my back pack and decided it was time to pray and maybe the security will take pity when he sees me crumpled on the floor in a heap. He did no such thing but luckily a face that was sort of familiar to me via email approached – hooray it was the roommate . He had found me .
So very organised roommate (who I am loving at this moment) has organised the luggage fiasco , bought me a beer and sent me to baggage claims slightly drunk to collect my receipt for baggage due to arrive at 7pm that night . Gosh I am much better at this travelling lark slightly tipsy. The only tricky encounter was when I had to pass security gaurds pretending I wasn’t a flight risk and try remove my boots as I had to pass through a metal detector. At this point after 14 hours of travel , now intoxicated and ridiculously red faced a security gaurd tries to get my number – whooo hoooo score ! My first Spanish pick up – a dodgy security gaurd. Is this first introduction to Spanish men a sign of things to come? I hope not . Any hoo luggage sorted and now off to the new flat to pass out. Will awake in the morrow to first day in Spain on my 28th birthday. Arribaaaa!!