Biography


Previous Entry
8.05.07. Barcelona.
Following Entry
The Journal Index

The Home Page
A week ago I had Monday free, (as is the case with most Mondays,) and then Tuesday was the first of May, a Holiday in Germany. So it was three and a half day weekend! Pamela took time off since the Wednesday before, and we went together to Barcelona. (OK, SHE went to Barcelona right away, and I went only on Sunday, bloody early in the morning. But we came Back from Barcelona together.) And why that city? I'd never seen it, and Pamela has a good friend living near it. -A friend who hasn't seen Pamela for some years, is near the end of a few projects, and needs Pamela's help to learn more of the AutoCAD and Photo-shop programs.

Before I left, Pamela told me it was Freezing cold there, and that I should bring extra thick socks. It was quite true... quite depressingly true. I think the warmest it got in my three days was 20 degrees, whereas in Germany it was Sunny every day, and over 30. Hmpf. The last day had the worst weather, of 11 degrees, and pouring rain. At least there was a little, little sun the day I arrived, because we used that opportunity to see the City of Barcelona. I was only semi-conscious from sleepiness, but could still enjoy half of the afternoon. We saw... many things, and walked and walked and walked. (What comes to mind? Gaudi cathedral, and a couple Gaudi houses, the Harbour, the old town, with narrow streets, the Rambler -a very big promenade through the center of the old town, The market, which was closed, a couple of churches, with their lovely courtyards, the sacred Guard Geese -don't ask me!!!, and countless 8 sided squares at street intersections.

We were badly in need of a rest when we finally stopped and had something to eat, (exquisite white wine, and a plate of Tagliatelle with Salmon for me!) I was in particular need of a rest, because I was dead tired. The problem came like this: The flights available, that is, the Cheap flights available, flew only Sunday, and early, earlier, and very early. I found it most practical to take the one from Hamburg, which is only a half hour by train from here, -and which left at six in the morning. Meaning I have to be there at five. -Meaning I have to get into Hamburg the night before, because no train will be running that early on a Sunday!

As I thought it would be nicer to wait all night, and try to sleep in the Airport as opposed to the Train station, I took the train at about 9 PM, and got easy connections to the Airport. And THEN realised that there isn't a single flight leaving or arriving between the hours of 11:30 and 6:00. So the airport basicly shuts down entirely. The twenty or thirty people waiting there the whole night, (I wasn't the only one!) were eventually all herded into one region, with benches, some tables, and a coffee stand. It wasn't as quiet and private as I wanted, but I thought I could still get to sleep eventually, even with people fairly near, talking over their drinks. As soon as the Cleaners would finish going by us with their sweeping machines...

Well! Let me tell you, that There is at most half an hour in the course of the whole night when all the sweeping machines are left to rest. And I think it might have been at just that time, that the chairs around the coffee stand were dragged around the floor so that a broom could reach under them. Sleep really wasn't an option. (Though I heard later on the plane, from my seating neighbour, that she had sleeping pills, which gave her a couple whole hours of sleep!) Lying there at four in the morning, hearing "Wisssshhhh-Wissssshhhh-Wisssshhh, EEEEEeeeeee-" made me resent being placed just here. I'd found a rather nice little secluded hallway in another part of the airport, but we had to be waiting in this stupid noisy little area.

That's why I needed a rest, after walking around Barcelona for four hours.

Pamela's friend lives about an hour out of the city, by a little town... And then five or ten minutes on the road outside of that is her house. The region is all hills, and she's on top of one half way along a valley. The closest neighbours are on the next hill, at most a kilometer a way, but it takes an hour to walk down the windey road, and then up the other windey road. Her place is an old stone house, with a big fire place, Thick walls, and small windows. And "old" doesn't mean North American "120 years old" sort of old. This is Europe. This was Spain. This place was a farm for the last four centuries at least. The floors are all stone or Brick. The walls are the raw stone... walls.

They, (She, her husband, and their two nearly-teenaged children,) have done lovely things with the Pig's house though. No more pigs, and as it built out of the same reliable, stable grey stone as the house, it has been turned into the Office, with her Landscaping things, and an extra summer kitchen, with sink, stove, and great huge table. It then has a south facing covered porch, with comfortable chairs looking out over the small orchard, and the big valley. I personally found the Pig House rather more pleasant than the People House. (And I think Pamela did too.)

My second day there was devoted to Photo-shop; setting up the program to best suit a landscape architect, colouring in a garden plan, and teaching her something about the program. We took a couple hours break in the early evening though, and went to the neighbour's hill. Sort of met them, but there wasn't too much interest on either side. We went and said hello to their two donkeys, (whom I convinced to be my beautiful photo models.) On the way back, we collected any fallen wood we saw, for their Hearth. The Hearth in the house is... beautiful. And symbolic. It's the Hearth Fire that's kept burning. It doesn't go out completely, as long as the nights are still cold, (And boy did We get cold nights!) It's such a lovely thing to sit next to before going to bed. And the next morning, while waiting for the tee/coffee to brew.

Ah yes, Pamela said that of her five or six days in Spain, it was only this one day, when we visited the neighbours, that there was sun, and a temperature above 15 degrees. It was, indeed, a rather lovely afternoon.

Unlike the next morning. Our flight left before noon, so after breakfast, we had to get moving. Pamela's friend drove us to the airport, (the Other airport, also an hour away from her house. The one that Ryan air flies to.) This was along twisting highways through hills, hills, and more hills. All so green! All so luscious! All so soaking wet in the heavy rain of that day. The valleys were full of mist, and I could have sworn that I was looking at South American Rain-forest. My image of Spain had always been... rather arid. lots of rocks and sand. Short, sparse, scrubby bushes, and tough yellow grass. And those are things that I didn't see at all.


The embarrassing moment came when I got back to Germany... When I saw that those who stayed in the northern clime were tanned, and I was left pale, pale white, after my weekend in Barcelona. What kind of justice is that?