I got back from Barcelona yesterday, having some enjoyed some lovely food, wonderful scenery, and treatment from Ryanair that made me want to throw back my head and let out a full-throated, Jack Bauer-style “DAMMIT!”. Having left two of our suitcases behind in Stansted, and not getting them over to Spain until the last day we were there. We picked them up at the airport on our way out, only to be told our flight was cancelled. I pictured Michael O’Leary frolicking in a vault filled with Euros as we made our way to the Ryanair desk. There were two people there – very nice and as helpful as possible, but faced with two hundred-odd irate British tourists, many in full baseball cap and tracksuit regalia, they were all at sea. Disaster was averted as we phoned up Dad back home and got him to book us a flight out the next day.
Pooterish holiday-from-hell-blogging aside, it was a great couple of days. We stayed at a hotel just off Las Ramblas, which was brilliant for wandering down the huge thoroughfare and seeing the city’s personality. Mime artists, tourists, promenading residents and a certain amount of disreputable characters as well (you haven’t been to Barcelona unless someone’s attempted to rob you). It leads down to the redeveloped harbour area, where you can walk across a footbridge to look at the boats coming in and leaving. Very romantic, especially of an evening. Oh yeah, and I saw a bird eating another bird. (The one time I forget to bring my camera!)