Adventures in Barcelona: Part One

Perhaps this is not the most inspiring beginning to a blog post, but whilst I've had a pretty good first week in Barcelona I can't say any of you readers are going to find it interesting.

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No, wait! Come back! I'll try to be interesting. Just let me explain one thing: I'm not here to be a tourist. I am here, as much as is possible, to simply live, for a month. In the infinite blogosphere there exist myriad entries on the bog-standard minutia of life, such as "The Time We Went to That Arabic Restaurant", or "Dinner At My Friend's House". I could write both those stories right now, but they wouldn't be interesting. And the thing is, I have not been seeing the sights that would otherwise provide the sort of material you dear readers crave. I stumbled across the Sagrada Familia just yesterday, only because it happened to be where we were walking at the time. I've not been inside it, and I may not even go inside it before I leave here. Hey, it's not going anywhere any time soon.

If I have to make a single comment on Barcelona so far, surely it is this: In a city where the norm is to have dinner not before 10pm, why do the trains stop running at midnight? There are night buses which are pretty good, but they're no substitute. It's almost inevitable that any given evening will end with me missing my train home. It has already happened on one occasion despite my best efforts, or, as was the case last night, because we realised without much time to spare that the trains were about to stop, and just weren't ready to go home yet. No effort was made.

Unfortunately I'm also a bit of a sucker for a good walk, and the grid system here seems easily to fool me into thinking that any two places are much closer to each other than they actually are. It was a long walk home, and not the first this past week. I actually had to take painkillers during the night such was my belief that my knees were about to disconnect as a result of the cumulative mileage under my belt. Today, I'm staying indoors.

Anyway, fear not, my adoring public. I am, in part, holding out on you. I have not, for example, told you about the language exchanges I attended, and will continue to attend. I'm saving that for later, when hopefully I'll have a better handle on the matter. It also transpires that I've accidentally rolled into Barcelona during the occasion of its biggest annual street festival, which commences this Thursday. So, there should be plenty to write about for my next entry. Here's a snippet of text from the festival guide regarding one of the events, the Correfoc [Fire Run], to whet your appetites.

Whoever wants to watch the Correfoc must be aware, above all, that it involves a certain level of danger, so the greatest care must be taken and a number of rules need to be respected. Those attending should cover up as much as possible to avoid burns. We recommend you wear long-sleeved clothes, avoid shorts and use a cap and scarf to cover your neck. Wear clothes made of cotton rather than sintethic [sic] materials. Above all, never throw water on the devils, as damp gunpowder is dangerous.

Marvellous.