Filed under: travel
Barcelona is Ian and I’s temporary parting point. He has to fly back to London to get on the same flight that I’m getting in Frankfurt, for stupid reasons. Hence I had my last morning in Barcelona to myself. Since Ian had proved unimpressed by Gaudi’s works around the centre of Barcelona, I left Güell Park for my last morning in Spain, alone.
I was planning to check out, leave my bags at the hotel and go to the park. Then my Italian-reared fears of Barcelona surfaced and I decided I couldn’t take my credit cards and passport and other valuables with me to the park because I would get mugged and be left stranded in Barcelona, within a day of leaving the continent. I reformulated my plans, so I would visit the park before midday (luscious late Spanish checkout times), allowing me to leave my valuables in the safe at the room.
I saw Ian off at the metro station and went the opposite direction to the park. It was about 8am. In London the metro is overflowing at this time, but in Barcelona just a few sleepy people were propped up on the seats. It was just past dawn. I got off the metro and marvelled at the outdoor escalators that would take me up to the park. It was quiet, I was the only one around. I circled the first escalator entrance like a wary animal. Peering beyond the steps to the cloudy sky it looked like an entrance to the heavens via purgatory. I decided to take the stairs alongside instead.
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