B A R C E L A N O city of Gaudi and many other things including the most delicious tapas at the market Sant Josep.
We’ve travelled 250 miles for our lunch changing destinations a couple of times, separated from each other once for a few miles after we crossed the borderless border between France and Spain as we awed at the Pyrennes.
The problem with travelling in two cars with people who have been to this continent is each of them want to show the rest their favourite places. So many interesting towns and city corners with great food and sights. Plus different versions of GPS and personal recollections of past trips, you can imagine what a group I’m in!
This is a good time to introduce my fellow travellers – my brother and his wife, the three Tans, Prinz and I – seven of us. Would have been a round number 8 but the last person backed out at the last minute so Prinz has the entire backseat to himself where he filled with wine and drank throughout the journey to the frustration of driver Ron who has to stay sober until we arrived safely at the hotel.
At one point, the golfers were getting impatient and started looking for a course, upsetting the original route. We did find a course in a small town Salou but we were too late, just missed the last flight. It’s a very nice course and club house in a newly developed old town with visible ruins left around to remind all of an old era.
With that diversion and away from the motorway, we got lost. The GPSs were not showing the roads, we seemed to be driving through fields, went round a cape with strong winds and a troubled sea, early spring kite surfers on the beach and round and round we went around a summer holiday town with empty hotel rooms waiting for the sun to shine again soon.
Finally back on the motorway, another 100 odd miles before nightfall, drivers stretching a few more miles to get to the next town on the way south. Each bold print on the map is read out, compared with the GPS for distance and time, checked out hotels and restaurants and ended up in AmPosta for the night.
All exhausted with enough energy to walk a small street to find something to eat but most restaurants are opened at 9pm. This is Spain remember? The hotel staff helped us all he could and found a sleepy café that will serve us.
Tomorrow another day on the road.