Nikki

At a dinner party some time in May, my friend Mindy, whose son, a college student, was spending the summer in Ibiza, said, “Anyone want to go to Spain?” I, with no plans for a European trip on the horizon, thought for about five seconds and said, “Maybe”. A week or so later it had been decided that we would go, and we had about five weeks to put together a thirteen day trip to Spain and Portugal. Mindy’s teenage daughter would be accompanying us.

I usually plan my trips months in advance and schedule them around airfare sales, but this time I was planning to go during high season on short notice during a summer with record high fuel prices and airline ticket costs, so I was resigned to paying more than ever before for the flight. We offset the high price of the transatlantic flight with several flights within Spain and Portugal on Vueling Airlines for 10 euros each plus tax. I found these flights by using www.whichbudget.com to locate airlines flying between Barcelona, Ibiza, and Lisbon.

Some flights were more expensive, but by manipulating our schedule we were able to fly on only the most inexpensive flights. To do so, we ended up adding Madrid to the itinerary, since there were no direct flights on Vueling from Ibiza to Lisbon. I was a little worried that we would be spending too much time traveling between cities, but it did seem like a good way to see a nice selection of places, and it worked out well. Because of the availability of cheap airfare, Mindy’s son ended up taking a break from Ibiza and joined us for the entire trip.

Our flights on Vueling were indistinguishable from our flights on the larger airlines. Planes were new and as comfortable as possible given the space constraints. Seats could be selected and online check-in was available. The staff was friendly and helpful. One of our flights, from Madrid to Lisbon, was significantly delayed. When I returned home I found an e-mail from Vueling offering a 20 euro discount off a future flight to make up for the inconvenience.

We flew Northwest from Boston to Amsterdam and KLM from Amsterdam to Barcelona. There was a connection time in Amsterdam of only 50 minutes, and I was pretty nervous about making the flight to Barcelona, but our flight from Boston arrived early, and we ended up having more than enough time to make the connection comfortably. The Northwest flight was on a very comfortable Airbus A330, with individual video on demand, including many movies, audio channels with lots of various types of music, and games. I had taken this flight last year when I traveled to Greece, and was pleased that it was among the best options for our trip this summer.

I was last in Barcelona in 1972. At that time I was traveling around Europe during a summer vacation in college, and the most memorable thing about Barcelona was that several of my friends and roommates who were also traveling in Europe had arranged to meet on July 28 at 10:00 AM in front of the Museum of Modern Art in Barcelona. This was before cell phones, of course, and it was a matter of faith whether we would all end up in one place at the same time, so it was very important to commit the time and place to memory. Whatever trick I used seems to have worked very well. I wish I could remember now how to remember anything for ten minutes, let alone 34 years.

On that earlier visit, my friend Ellen and I shared a bed in the cheapest room in the cheapest hotel in Barcelona. We ate from the cheapest menu in the cheapest restaurants we could find, and the dessert was always flan. I will never eat flan again.

We did it a little differently this time.

Raydotman

I am really enjoting your trip report and looking forward to the next installation. Thanks for taking the time to do it.

lobo_mau

I think it was hot... waiting for next parts with a lot of curiosity...

Sher

Too funny, Nikki.

Waiting for more!

flsd

>>>>>On that earlier visit, my friend Ellen and I shared a bed in the cheapest room in the cheapest hotel in Barcelona. We ate from the cheapest menu in the cheapest restaurants we could find, and the dessert was always flan. I will never eat flan again. We did it a little differently this time.

A girl after my own heart! Of course, 30 years after my first trip to Spain, I also have made a few concessions to comfort. Can't wait to hear more!

Nikki

Day 1: Four Cats and Seven Doors

When we got to Barcelona it was really, really hot. As soon as we stepped off the plane it felt suffocatingly hot in the airport. It didn’t get any better. We had reserved hotels with air conditioning for the whole trip, which was a very good idea, but which made it hard to leave the room. We took the aerobus from the terminal to the Placa Catalunya. This was very easy to do and the fare was only 3.60 euros per person. We then dragged our bags across the Placa Catalunya to our hotel, the H10 Catalunya Plaza. (Note the different spellings of Placa and Plaza, the first being Catalan and therefore on the street signs, and the second being Castilian and used in the hotel’s materials.) By the time we reached the hotel we were hoping for some heavy-duty air conditioning.

Our rooms were not ready yet, so we went to the lounge, which was one of the very nice features of this hotel. There was free water, wine, cava (Catalonian champagne), and sandwiches set out all day, and there were two computers with free internet access, as well as a television and sofas. The air conditioning was not very effective, though, and we were all pretty wilted. So we headed outside in search of lunch.

We walked a few blocks to the Barri Gotic, the old quarter of the city, and found the restaurant Els Quatre Gats. The streets were more or less deserted because it was Sunday, and most businesses were closed, but we found this restaurant open and had a very nice lunch in the footsteps of Picasso. Great bread, olives, duck confit, and air conditioning turned me into a much happier camper, and we walked back to the hotel, where we found Mindy’s son waiting for us and our rooms were ready.

After a nap, I headed for the lounge to send some e-mail and met up with the rest of our party. The television was on in the lounge and the World Cup match was about to begin. A group of about a dozen Italians who were staying in the hotel had gathered to watch and it was very entertaining watching them. When the Italian anthem was played, they all sang along. When it was the French turn, they put the TV on mute. They were quite animated as the game began, and it was with some reluctance that we eventually left for dinner.

We ate that night at Set Portes, a fine old restaurant near the waterfront. This was a wonderful first dinner in Spain, where we shared a huge paella with everything but the kitchen sink and then a platter of grilled fish, some of which I could identify, but some of which I could not.

Back at the hotel, Mindy and I stumbled into bed as the younger members of our party went out in search of the nightlife. We heard celebrations of the Italian victory in the World Cup going on late into the night, cars honking, people chanting “Italia”, the sounds of fireworks. Yes, I know Barcelona is not in Italy. But they were celebrating outside nonetheless. And in case anyone is curious, the kids wandered for hours and didn’t find much nightlife, presumably because it was Sunday night.

LoveItaly

Fun report Nikki!! BTW, does Els Quatre Gats translate to The Four Cats?

Our Fodorite LeClaire is living in Barcelona now and she has said how very hot and humid it is.

Now on with your trip report..thanks!!!

Scarlett

Yes, it is hot !
Nikki, I am loving your report..I can picture watching the Italians watching the game..
Waiting for me ~

Scarlett

<i>&quot;waiting for me?&quot;</i> I didn't type that!!

I meant <b>waiting for more</b>! lol

LoveItaly

LOL Scarlett, it is the heat dear one!!! It has fried our brains I truly believe

I called a friend awhile ago. She answered the phone and I must have been off in the ozone as when she said &quot;hello&quot; I said &quot;who is this?&quot; Who in the heck did I think it was, lol. Oh well, we had a good giggle.

Nikki

Barcelona photos:

http://tinyurl.com/jteov

Nikki

Thanks for all the encouraging comments. I'll try to move on when I wake up in the middle of the night thinking it's five hours later.

Nikki

And yes, Els Quatre Gats is the four cats, and Set Portes is seven doors.

Nikki

Day 2:

I got off to a relatively early start Monday morning and visited the FNAC store across the street. I was hoping that this branch of the French book and record chain would help me feed my addiction to French music, but the entire CD section was apparently being reorganized, and most of the shelves were empty, with the CDs in boxes all over the floor. I settled for feeding another addiction and bought a couple of home decorating magazines.

When the troops were mustered, some time after noon, we bought tickets for the bus turistic at the stand in the Placa Catalunya and waited in line a few minutes for the bus that would loop around the northern part of the city. I do not usually enjoy bus tours of cities and have not taken any of the hop-on hop-off tours in other cities, but I did enjoy this one. Several posters on Fodor’s and Travelers to Go had written about the value of letting the sights come to you in Barcelona, so I decided we’d give it a try.

It was sunny and hot. I’m thinking it’s always sunny and hot. The breeze on the top of the bus was cooling when the bus was moving. Our first stop was the Sagrada Familia, a cathedral in the making. I had visited this site in 1972, and if much progress has been made since then I wasn’t able to discern it. I skipped the guided tour but my companions took it, and from their state of heat exhaustion at the end, I am glad I sat it out in the shade and contemplated the construction site from a restful vantage point. This site left me cold (well, not literally of course), and I felt the same way the first time I saw it. But it is a very large curiosity indeed and is emblematic of Barcelona and probably a necessary stop.

Back on the bus we headed up toward the mountains that act as Barcelona’s backdrop. We got off the bus to take the Tramvia Blau, a hundred-year-old tram, up the first slope of the mountain. We passed a neighborhood of beautiful old houses that must be quite a high rent district, with views over the city. A little hilly for me, but I suppose if you can afford to live there, you can afford your own driver. The tram ends at a small plaza with a couple of bars, and a funicular ascends from that point to the top of the hill.

We went into a bar on the edge of the hill called Mirablau. This was a recommendation from Fodor’s poster LaClaire, although she had suggested it for its nighttime views. The daytime views turned out to be spectacular as well, and the cold drinks in the shady bar that was open entirely on the side facing down toward the city were extremely welcome. We were toasting LaClaire with our cold drinks as we cooled down and started feeling human once again. Thus refreshed, we headed out to the funicular that would take us to the top of Tibidabo.

The funicular runs every half hour, and the ride only takes a few minutes. When we reached the top we had a bit less than half an hour to walk around, enjoy the view and take pictures. There is an amusement park at the top, and an enormous church, which makes for some surreal viewing. The amusement park was closed, though we felt we were getting enough thrill rides just getting to it and back down again on the tram and funicular.

When we got back on the bus we were ready to enjoy the sights from a seated topside vantage, and we stayed on for the rest of the loop back to the Placa Catalunya. Back at the Placa, I decided to go into the huge department store El Corte Ingles before heading back to the hotel. I managed to resist buying the silk shawls and linens on sale and got out with only the purchase of a few CDs of Catalan music.

One of the amazing things that has changed in Barcelona since my 1972 visit is the prominence of the Catalan language. My only conscious experience of Catalan on that trip was across the border in France, where I was sitting on a beach one evening talking to a couple guys my age in French. An older fisherman joined us and started talking to the young guys in a language I didn’t understand. They told me it was Catalan. When the conversation turned toward taking me out on one of the fishing boats with special lights and the older guy said, “no, no lights,” the mood changed and the party broke up.

When I first visited Barcelona, Franco was still in power and the Catalan language was suppressed. No public signs, no teaching of it in school. I had no idea at the time that Catalan was the first language of the region. It is amazing to me that in the thirty years since Franco’s death, the Catalan language has become so re-established that it is once again the first language of the city.

Back at the hotel, we decided to try another recommended restaurant from LaClaire’s list for dinner that night. When we got there, however, it didn’t look the way I expected, we weren’t sure it was the right place, and the waiter gave Mindy’s son some attitude when he asked to see a menu, so we were a bit put off and decided to try elsewhere. There was another restaurant recommended on the same street, but it appeared to be closed (actually it appeared to be nonexistent, but I learned later that it was probably just closed Monday night and the identifying signs were shuttered up out of sight).

So we pulled out my Time Out Barcelona guide and found Pla de la Garsa nearby in the Born district. This turned out to be a wonderful restaurant. As Mindy’s son was celebrating his 21st birthday that night, we were glad we found such a special place. It was very small and decorated in antiques. We were eating at the fashionable Spanish hour of 10:30 or so, but we could get a table right away. The menu was filled with fascinating choices, and Mindy and I ended up ordering a tasting menu for two. Wonderful jamon iberico and other meats, great bread with three different spreads including artichoke, a fish spread, and one I don’t recall. Catalan sausage and the most amazing beef bourguignonne. A plate of local cheese. I’m sure I’m forgetting some stuff too. A wonderful experience.

After dinner, well after midnight, we walked through the streets of the neighborhood, alive with people of all ages, and found a taxi to deposit us back at the hotel for the night.

missypie

I am considering a spring break trip to Barcelona....sounds like a way to avoid the heat!

TexasAggie

Hi Nikki,

Thank you for yet another wonderful trip report You have a real knack for describing places that makes it seem like your readers are right there with you

Nikki

Day 3

Tuesday morning I had the hotel breakfast. This hotel provided the best hotel breakfast of our trip. There was always fresh fruit and a good assortment of pastry, including some kind of almond cake that was terrific. Also good ham and salami and rolls (which found their way into the lounge after the breakfast room closed), eggs, sausage, I forget what all.

We got our accustomed early afternoon start and headed for the second day of our bus turistic tour of the city. We took the southern loop this time. I had read a trip report which recommended highly a tram ride from Placa d’Espanya up to Montjuic, so we got off at that stop. Unfortunately we learned that the tram was not running, so we got back on the bus and got off at the stop for El Poble Espanyol.

El Poble Espanyol was constructed for Barcelona’s international exposition in 1929. Many of the buildings and attractions on Montjuic are also reminders of that fair. Sort of the Flushing Meadows Park of Barcelona. Better views, though. The concept of El Poble Espanyol is a Spanish village built in all the different architectural styles of the various regions of Spain. OK, so it’s the EPCOT Spanish pavilion. Lots of little shops for crafts and some galleries and restaurants. This is where I bought fans for my daughters and embroidered pillow covers and tiles with our address number to hang on our house. Have I mentioned it was hot?

Back on the bus turistic, we headed up Montjuic and got off at the Fondacio Joan Miro. This is a nice museum with works by Miro, designed by an architect who was Miro’s friend, Josep Lluis Sert. There was a temporary exhibit of works by Carles Santos, an artist and composer apparently obsessed with pianos. Much of it was amusing or interesting or startling or all three.

Our next stop on the bus was the cable car across the harbor. When the bus left us at the stop, it felt like we were in the middle of nowhere. There is an enormous construction site at this point, but we picked our way down the path following the detour signs to the station for the cable cars. The bus turistic has coupons for many of the attractions along its route, but the cable cars, which are operated by the Barcelona public transit system, had no discount. The tickets were rather expensive, but we bought them. No way I was hiking back up to the bus stop. Did I mention it was hot out?

The cable cars run between Montjuic and the port, stopping midway at a very tall observation tower where you can get out and take pictures. This gave us quite a view across the city to Tibidabo, complementing the view we had the previous day in the other direction. When we arrived at the port, we were now quite far from any stop on our bus’s circuit, so we walked to a bar and sat a while to cool off with some excellent and refreshing drinks. Many people were at the beach, and the water did look inviting, although lying in the sun seemed unappealing in the heat. After an hour or so we felt human again. It was time for me to be heading back to the hotel for my get-together with LaClaire, so I took a taxi and dropped off my companions at the monument to Columbus, where the explorer of the new world is pointing out to sea toward Mallorca, so they could continue touring along the bus route.

I don’t do well in the heat. When I reached the hotel, I collapsed in front of the air conditioner and waited until my skin felt like something I could stand to live in again. I then got ready for my much-anticipated meeting with LaClaire. We had arranged to meet on perhaps the busiest street corner in Barcelona, at the height of rush hour. In retrospect this seems less like a good idea than I thought when we agreed on it. For half an hour I looked at every face that went past, trying to match it with the picture LaClaire had sent me. Eventually I called her cell phone and learned that, arriving in Barcelona only that very morning, she had mistakenly set her watch on London time and it was an hour later than she thought. We agreed to meet at a caf&eacute; where I could sit and have a cold drink while waiting. Much better idea. Shortly after that, she showed up, plumbing fixture in hand. I guess she had thought with the extra hour she could take it to the hardware store.

We enjoyed drinks and conversation at the caf&eacute; and were joined briefly by a friend of LaClaire’s. Delightful company and lively conversation. When LaClaire’s friend left, we went for tapas to a nice restaurant with an outdoor terrace nearby. I believe it was La Tramoia. LaClaire ordered for us both and we got a great assortment of stuff that I couldn’t begin to recreate here, but I do know it included fried baby squid, spicy potatoes, lots of other stuff, and a great fruit and chocolate dessert thing on a skewer. I really enjoyed this get-together, we talked like old friends (or maybe I just reminded LaClaire of her mother). It is amazing how much people have to talk about when they know each other through an internet community. At least that has been my experience whenever I have met somebody through the travel message boards. LaClaire was very excited to be back in Barcelona, where she has a wonderful job and many friends, and I hope she has a terrific stay there.

Once again, it was well after midnight when supper was over, and fortunately we were just down the street from my hotel, where we said good-bye.

noe847

enjoying the report, Nikki, and the pictures.

moolyn

Nikki, I just had time to start your report. It's hot, hot, hot! Keep it coming. I'm enjoying it as much as you Dordogne report, even if I don't like hot places.

Nikki

Day 4

Wednesday after breakfast at the hotel I decided I would spend the day on my own. I wanted to save my feet, which were complaining to me, and try to avoid overheating, so I would take things at my own pace while my companions went off to see the Picasso Museum and the Park Guell. My own agenda included the Boqueria Market, so I walked down the Ramblas. It was very hot again. The street performers on the Ramblas consisted mainly of people painted or heavily costumed to resemble immobile statues, and I can not imagine how they did it in that heat. I just don’t think it would be worth it.
Before I got to the Boqueria, I noticed a music store, Casa Beethoven. This was the kind of place I love, where you can browse through the sheet music. I have been on a twenty year mission to seek out music that can be played by an ensemble consisting of one or two flutes, two violins, two cellos and a piano. It isn’t as easy as one might expect. There is a lot of music for string trio, string quartet, string quintet. Very little however for a mixed group such as ours of strings, winds, and piano. Most of it stems from the baroque period. At this point I have seen and probably purchased almost all of it. But many hunts have yielded unexpected finds. Stores with the sheet music available for browsing have become an endangered species and when I find a new one it is a cause for celebration. I asked if they could provide me with a chair as I sorted through their files of music for four or five instruments and came away with three scores that should be adaptable for our group, including two by twentieth century Catalonian composers. I know nothing about either of them, and the music might be quite unplayable, but such finds bring me great satisfaction.

The market appeared soon after I left Casa Beethoven, and it was a fine and colorful photo opportunity. I ate at a lunch counter within the market, Pinotxo. A proprietor as colorful as the market held court in his vest and bowtie as he served a crowded counter full of people and told jokes which had everybody laughing. I ordered razor clams that were warmed on the grill and drizzled with olive oil, then chipirones (baby squid) with white beans. Quite the experience.

After leaving the market I was so hot that I resolved to go directly back to the hotel and spend the rest of the day in air conditioning. The walk up the Ramblas was so unpleasant that I considered taking a taxi the short distance, but there were none on this stretch of road. I badly wanted to sit in the shade, but no place appeared. Then suddenly I felt a blast of cold air coming out of a doorway on my left. I was drawn in against my will, finding myself unexpectedly in an oasis of cool air and comfortable seating: Starbucks.

Ahhh. After I had cooled off enough to go buy a cold drink, I sat long enough to feel pretty good. I started thinking I might be able to fit in the Museum of Contemporary Art (MACBA). This was a mistake.

Half way to the museum, I was again terribly overheated. By the time I saw the museum I was in great need of air conditioning, but between me and the enormous hot white building was an enormous hot white empty plaza with skateboarders. Feeling as though I were crossing the Sahara, I made it to the museum and bought a ticket. By this time my feet and my body thermostat had had it. I gave a cursory look at the building and one of the temporary exhibits and went into shutdown. Nothing was going to be interesting until I could get off my feet and into some real air conditioning.

The walk back to the hotel was, well, hot. I stopped once on a bench and a guy pulled up near me and parked his motorcycle. Taking off his helmet, he said something to me. I mumbled something that indicated I did not understand him and he said, “No speak Spanish? What a pity.” And off he went.

I made one more stop at a Starbucks a couple blocks from the hotel, but this one was much less touristy and therefor less well air-conditioned. It still served its purpose of providing a respite from the heat and I made the final trek back to the hotel resolved to stay there until it was time to leave for the airport. Our flight to Ibiza left Barcelona at 11:00 PM. We had already vacated our rooms, but the lounge was available and I was happy to use it until my companions returned and we went to the airport together.

The flight to Ibiza on Vueling was uneventful, and we arrived in Ibiza around midnight. We took a cab to our hotel and were grateful once again for the foresight that had us book only hotels with air conditioning.