The view from Park Guell looking out across Barcelona to the Mediterranean, with the plaza unusually empty.
Barcelona wouldn't be Barcelona without the whacky organic buildings by Gaudi which are scattered across the city. They're organic, they're kinda bulbous in a less-pretentious-than-Gehry way, and they're usually covered in crazy-bright mosaics.
Yep, another lazy day in the Mediterranean.
Those who are observant sidebar followers will have noticed that my Mediterranean Swim-Count has today gone up from zero to one. Oh yeah. Another Hilarity-long goal that can be ticked off. The resulting flirting with hypothermia wasn't an overt goal as such, but was unavoidable as can be easily seen in the following equation.
ocean + december = freezing
Note that this only holds for special cases of 'ocean' that are elements of the Northern Hemisphere set.
There are many thing I like about Spain; it's a country full of sun and relaxed people. The locals are always out later than the tourists and it's the first country where the natives have out-numbered Australians in every hostel we've been to. But what really floats my boat is the country-wide acceptance of siestas. I can't think of many things better than institutionalised afternoon napping. I'm actually about to have a siesta myself right now, just like I've been doing daily for a while. The first 90% of this holiday has really worn me out.
In fact - a word of warning for when I get back home - from now on don't try to contact me between the hours of 5:30pm and 7pm, for during that time I shall be contently unconscious.
The other week we dropped by Bilbao for a couple of days so I could go quietly drool over Frank Gehry's whacky design for the Guggenheim Bilbao. And yes, it's amazing.
We're now in Barcelona and I'm psyching up for a Gaudi tour tomorrow, and will also be stopping by still-under-construction La Sagrada Familia before the week is out.
Cool architecture makes Si a happy man.
Simon and I had a quest this morning, and that quest was to locate the Holy Grail. Search for it, if you will.
Sure this involved noticing in the Lonely Planet guide that the only supposed Holy Grail with the Vatican Tick of Approval™ was in the church a short walk from our hostel in Valencia; but it was a quest all the same. There was even suffering involved. We had to get up really early.
Early as in before some shops are open. In my world, all shops are open from some theoretical origin point and then just decided to shut at some stage during the normal day. That shops have a finite opening hour, and the possibility of me arriving before that hour, is a concept I've never really been confronted by. But there I was - pressed up against the glass window of a closed breakfast outlet, whimpering out of pure desperate need for orange juice.
Once that was sorted we walked the short distance to the cathedral and went in. At this point we failed in our quest, in a traditional Hilarity100 manner. Can you guess which of the following was the cause of our quest's demise?
Most pathetic ending to a quest, ever.
Last night we stayed about 20km south of Madrid in a Formula 1 hotel. This is what happens when you forget to book ahead for a Saturday night in a major city; we forgot because for us, days have no meaning.
Anyhow, after scouting about our tiny, sparsely furnished room we did a quick stock-take and realise that between the five of us there were only four towels and two cups. So I quickly nipped back down to the Spanish-speaking-only receptionist to request the extra needed items. Having to communicate all of this via charades didn't faze me at all - my mime skills are of a-grade quality.
Unfortunately, after I'd executed my action for "towel" the receptionist ran off and came back with someone who could speak English. Someone who could could speak English and who also leapt straight into detailed instructions of how to get to the local discotheque. Turns out that when I'm drying myself with a towel I look exactly like I'm dancing, apparently.
So, who wants to go to the disco with me?
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