Goodbye Barcelona

We awoke to the slamming of doors. Our australian room-mates had decided to build a chest in our hostel room and fill it with an endless supply of plastic bags at 7 in the morning. I had set an alarm for 10, so to get a restful sleep but also so as to seize some of the beautiful daylight. But with the Ruckus caused all early-morning, sleep was far from omni-present, indeed the girls in our room finished their chest of drawers (packing) and went out the door at exactly 10. So I was awake but sleepy, but a shower and an Emergence-C fixed all that and I felt ready (listo, if you will). Our first feat was La Sagrada Familia.

To say it in three words, It is Striking. To behold such a monument of sheer brilliance, of sheer liveliness, of sheer inescapable beauty, leaves one feeling small, unimportant, and out of place. No matter what angle you take with the creature (for the building is a living breathing being, so full of the architect's life and sacrifice) it completely overwhelms you. To my mind, however, the interior is a bit of a disappointment, the majority of it is still under construction (and won't be finished until 2020 at the earliest!) and what could be seen was not small (in now way is it so), not stunning (for surely it will be stunning) but just a certain je nais c'est quoi that mind has misplaced at the moment. We spen a couple hours around La Sagrada and Scott and Dave decided to pay the €2 to go up the tower elevator and down the spirally stairs. I opted out and went into my own private hell.

Dave's was the mountain the day before, Scott's was a certain Metro ride in Madrid, and mine (as so often is the case, it seems) was children.

I waited outside La Sagrada for a time as I waited for Scott and Dave to move an inch in the stationary queue in which they were standing. As I posed uninterested on a railing, a shrieking sound pierced my ears. It continued at different pithces from all around the slight inclined walkway in which I was standing. I first thought it was a murder of baby crows lost from their mothers, desperately attempting to destroy the eardrums of all that were near for their cruel attmepts at revenge. But instead of pleading birds, I saw a group of ill-dressed children creeching at each other. I rolled up the short-history of La Sagrada Familia pamphlet I was holding and thought quickly how many of these children I could strike over the head with it, before they overtook me with their tiny little hands and squeeling yelps. I counted 3, maybe 4, that I could take and figured it wasn't worth it as there were 17 of them that I could see, but hundreds, maybe thousands of them, that I could hear.

I walked away from their shrilling and into the museum--escaping into the peaceful serenity of a well-lit collection of fact-feeding rooms. Is trolled through slowly to delay any chance of another encounter with these bird-children. I exited the museum feeling slightly better, my head-ache subsiding, when, of a sudden, there they were again, chirpping to each other in a new and most ear-splitting way. Aggrevation (that's for you grandma) was all I could think of as I attempted to give them that eye that says, "Please shut up before I strangle you with that stupid necklace that you're wearing around your neck." But it didn't work and the sparrow calls continued. I walked away as fast as I could and found my serenity in the streets away from La Sagrada for 40 minutes or so before I head back and meet Dave and Scott. And, of course, near to the second I returned to the arena IT began again.

They were surrounding me. Trying to confuse me by running behind me to different benches all the while making their evil war calls. I nearly broke down and gave in (probably in some cinematic gesture (a la Charlton Heston) falling to my knees and shouting to the heavens, 'You've won!' 'You monsters!' 'You've won!') but I became strong and walked away to meet Scott and Davewho were shouting glorious praises about the elvator ride, the view, and the staircase down, while I silently listened. When they asked waht I did, I looked around, added that O so important pregnant pause, and responded, 'Not much.'

We left La Sagrada to meet with Scott and my friend from Barcelona, Marina. She gave us a quick tour around her proud city and then escorted us to a lovely and lively little Tapas Bar near the city center. we feasted on an excellent meal, one that rivaled many I've had in the past months, and with my rosy cheeks (from the beer and the heat) I smiled a most satisfied boyish smile. After dinner she took us to Gaudi's houses in the rain. It was a rather somber moment as we would have to say goodbye to our kind host (as she is not returning to Guildford in April) and the rain fell gingerly upon, almost tepidly, upon us as we stared up at these creations. It was time to go.

We parted ways in a metro station. All through the metro to the Hostel we raved about how great marina was, what a shame it was she was not returning the next semester, and what a kind person she waa. It would have been a touching moment to overhear, but now those words are lost forever, resounding in the tunnels of the Metro.

Next we went home. Next we went to sleep. Next we woke up. Next we checked out. Next we took the Metro to the bus station. Next we took a bus to Girona. Next we got to the airport. Next we boarded a flight. Next we were in Brussels.

Then Dave lost his bag.