At eleven last night, the 'friend' who I might add is very nice, has his television on, plus on the phone. This with only a thin wall between us. Earlier about ten, he once again sits outside my room eating his meal which was very garlicky. All I could smell was his cooking which I think clung to my clothes.
If this apartment was not so grubby and the friend wasn't staying here I would probably have stayed as it is handy to the metro. Failing that, I expect staying in Lesseps would be a cheaper option. Donato is a very nice man, and having some English would have clarified quite a few details about the area. He is also an unbelievably talented graphic artist, and photographer. This came to light only because he saw my Parc Guell pics, which he liked. Then he showed me a magazine which published his photos. He is about a million times better than I'll ever be. His art work is mainly backgrounds for movies, and they are unbelievably good. All this took forever to get to, as I mentioned 'Photoshop' and that opened up an area in common. Shame his apartment is so awful.
I left here around eleven and headed into Catalona, catching the metro from Lesseps. Lesseps looks a nice little town once I am down the hill.
I had no trouble getting into Catalona as when emerging from the metro you are in the heart of it. It is a massive area and only a part of the city really. I found the hostal/hotel I am staying in but I didn't go in. I don't want any rude awakenings until tomorrow. Actually viewing the stairs which are about 18 inches wide as a bit of a worry.
This chappy was filling a water bottle on the corner.
As I wandered around I came to a theatre and the girl outside was handing out flyers for a Flamenco show. I decided I would go on Friday night. She said the show was on at two theatres so I could go to either. Well, I knew where this one was now, so I said I would go here. Then she said I have to buy my ticket at the other theatre. Oh, sod, off I go two blocks away, and wishing I could drop crumbs to find my way back.
Handing out flyers.
So, I get to the other theatre which is massive and obviously a wonderful venue.
The other theatre.
Cafe in this theatre.
Entrance to ticket office.
I must have been tired or disoriented as when the girl went to book me in here, I said I was planning to go to the other theatre. Why the devil I did that I'll never know. Well says she, in that case you need to buy the ticket there! I explained what the other girl said, and it appears she is new, so this girl rings her and says she must sell tickets there! Now was my chance to say I would see the show at this stunning venue, but no, off I trudge back to the first one. I finally got my ticket, and stuffed up the show as well. The show I'm seeing is a sort of opera love story with flamenco dancing. Ah, well, I'm sure it will be lovely. A pity I picked the 'humble' theatre.
I then found the market place, and could not believe the array of foods. The nice thing about Barcelona is they all speak some English. Wonderful.
There is art work everywhere. Too much to even begin to absorb.
Just a tiny section of market goods.
I had some fruit and a drink and meandered around a little trying to get orientated, and looking in the shops. I must try and pull together something decent for Friday night. Later I was having a coffee and the skies opened. The thunder was incredible and the rain swamped everything in seconds. Out came the intrepid umbrella sales chaps.
I wandered over to the now empty plaza and tried some artistic photography. I had my umbrella as I now don't go anywhere with out it.
Needs some work but I was trying to get the buildings and people or just their feet.
That was quite enjoyable even if I did look like a stalker. By now it was sevenish so I decided to head for food. The choices are endless here. But on the way…..
I went into the nearest restaurant and had quite a nice meal, made up of two tapas and a red wine. Sharing my table was a lovely man from Amsterdam and his nearly twelve year old daughter. It turned into a really nice dining experience as they were both really good company.
I tootled off to the metro and only took one wrong turn. When I got here, I could have done with my hiking poles. Heaven knows how the nuns get up and down.
It is now ten thirty and I have not told Donato I'm leaving yet. I might just have a shower and put the long johns on, then tell him. I hope this rain clears up as I dread wheeling the backpack down as it is. One misstep and it will zoom off down the hill.