Barcelona Part 2

So even when I slept all day in Barcelona from the flu, I still had enough energy to get up and go meet a friend Tom Zoellner told me to look up, Marc Herman. Marc picked me up at my hotel and took me on a tour of the city knowing all sorts of interesting facts that normal tour guides don't even discuss and took me to a great bar in his neighborhood for tapas. Oh, was I ever glad. He finally explained to me what all this food was and it was really good. He also explained to me that most bacon was, in fact, cooked and I just got screwed over in Seville (I knew that wasn't right). The next night my friend Eduardo (APK from Madrid) was in town for business so he took me to this incredible restaurant, Tusset, in the heart of the financial district. The filet with foie gras almost made my eyes water it was so good, but there were no people there. Seriously, we were the only ones in the restaurant. Then we walked around the Ramblas looking for people. It really seems as though the economy has taken a huge dive here and it shows in the restaurants and bars. It's kind of sad. The next night Eduardo and I went out for tapas and I learned even more about the really good local food here.

I then realized I was running out of time in Barcelona and had not even begun to see the city, so I extended my stay for another night and the next day met Marc to walk his dog. He took me up Montjuic (Jew Hill), the site of the Olympics and around the King of Aaragon's Palace and showed me where the Joan Miro museum was so I could go back (I had mentioned, he was one of my all time favorites). We had a cup of coffee in a little shop with a huge patio over looking the city and it really couldn't have been nicer. Then he left me to my own devices so he could go work (Marc is a freelance reporter) and I hit the museum. When I left it was once again raining, but I decided to make the trek up a huge hill to see the castle.

I can officially say I'm over castles. It was my fourth, they're all on huge hills and they're really just armories. Give me a Palace any day.

So then through the rain I trekked over to the cemetary, that I had seen in the distance and Marc explained it dated back to the 11th century or something. It was really like a big outdoor mausoleum, with buildings and roads. I really was curious.

It was probably about 2 miles from the castle, but I thought worth it. I got there and the only entrance is this really big modern gate. It was 5:10 and the hours said it closed a 5:30. I thought I had enough time to take a quick peek. I kept going in further and further looking for the really old tombs that Marc had assured me were there. I thought, maybe if I go down this road and look high the old ones will be there. But no. Couldn't find anything older than 1958. But I think I did find the worlds largest collection of miniture crucifiction statues. But at least the rain had finally stopped and there was actually sun peaking through the clouds.

The cemetary is on a hill over looking the ocean, at one point at top I thought this would be the most fabulous place in the world to view a sunset. But then thought better of that because well, then the sun would be down and you'd still be in this creepy place with towering walls and streets that went nowhere. So I headed for the gate.

On my way I passed a groundskeeper who as heading up from the gate, he waved to me and I thought, good he's not mad that I'm a little late. My feet were killing me, I was hungry and needed a glass of wine when I arrived at the gate.

Well the gate was locked and 10 feet tall solid metal. Okay, don't panic, the groundskeeper saw you, he knows your in here, he'll be back. So I waited patiently. Turns out the groundskeeper is a dick. I'm sure he was at a cafe at that point laughing about the American he locked in the mausoleum.

Ok, don't panic, assume he's not coming back- what do you do? There was a low wall on the one end I noticed when walking around the outside, go check it out. So I tredged back up three flights of stairs and the wall wasn't as low as I had thought. But there was a tree against the wall. That's an option, but maybe I should look for a better one, and headed back towards the gate. There was construction work going on, maybe I should head towards that. Oh, that's a cliff, maybe not. I finally found the service entrance. An 8 foot high metal door (which by the way, was locked from the inside- so somebody was there, just ignoring me) but there was a ledge half way up. That I could climb, but what happens if the ledge isn't on the otherside? Better keep moving. Then I found it! A perfectly climbable wire fence with large square holes that was tops 7 feet. Oh, my heart rejoiced as I quickly threw my purse over it. By this time the sun was almost set and I had to navigate my way down a hill with no path, but seemed a minor inconvenience to spending the night in a cemetary/mausoleum.

Now, I only had another 2 mile walk back though the hill to get where Marc told me I should leave the hill. It was night by now, but the hill was teaming with athletic types all in water wicking fabric and running shoes so I didn't feel too unsafe. I found the cafe Marc had taken to me and stopped for a well deserved glass of wine over looking the city at night. I then found the stairs Marc had told me about. Now, during the day, when Marc thought I'd be descending them, I'm sure they are not at all scary. But at night with a half moon and no lights at all, they are a bit terrifying. I kept my gaurd up and was somewhat pacified by the athletic types that would occasionally run up them.

I got about half way down, the view of the city was amazing by the way, and saw a man just standing on the steps. Shit, are you kidding me? What's up with this? He spoke to me in Spanish, I quickly assured him I did not speak Spanish, as I was trying to pass him with a wide berth. He changed to French, I shook my head and he then started speaking English. He asked what I was doing on the stairs alone and that a woman by herself shouldn't be walking down such a dark passage. Um, thanks professor. He then started talking to me about poor people. ???? Turns out he is of Indian descent (I actually got that from his English) but is a correspondent in France for a Mumbai newspaper and was in Barcelona for his cousins wedding. He is also writing a book on the differences and similarities between the poor and the rich and wanted to know my opinions on why the poor were poor, and the rich were rich.

Dude, I've been walking for 8 hours in the rain, up and down hills, am on a really scary stairway with no one around and I was just LOCKED IN A MAUSOLEUM! I have no thoughts on the subject at this particular moment. He then invited me to dinner which I really just had to decline.

It took me another two hours to get to my hotel with a few stops and I quickly sat myself at the bar next door with two Dutch men and proceeded to drink. Not as much as the Dutchmen, but darn close.