Tom and I spent the rest of our time on the Costa Brava in bed.
(sick, that is;{ ) We missed getting to see Valencia, and Guadalest
(a village that is the second most visited place in Spain).
Today we had to drag ourselves out at 5 am for the drive to Barcelona
where we were due to return our dirty, squeaky, still dropping
pebbles rental car. The one that sat for the entire 2nd week of our
rental. We were happy to be rid of it and took to the Barcelona Metro
like fish to water.I half expected bells and whistles to sound when we
turned it in (woo, woo! ding, ding! Insurance deductible due here!)
Nothing. I'm sure the reckoning will be in the mail at home.
We left our backpacks at the train station and went for a walk to Joan
Miro Park. It turned out to be a family park where we watched people
arrive with their Badminton rackets and birdies or ping pong padddles
and ball to have a match. Most stayed for 20 or 30 minutes and then
hopped on their bike and rode off to their next great adventure.
Barcelonans at play on a Saturday afternoon. We enjoyed just being in the fresh
air for a change.
We picked up our bags at the station and headed for our hostel. As we
decended into the underground, struggling with our bags (not quite over
being sick, and slogging backpacks plus extras around will really take it
out of you), I stopped to readjust my load. I looked up just in time
to see an "I work out everyday, and might be a rugby player" sized guy
bobbling Tom's camera in his hands!!! As he bent over to get a better
grip on it I grabbed his shirt,( and a little flesh) and yelled NO WAY!
Give me that! He paused for a second (remember the "rugby player sized" part?)
and.... oh, by the way..... he had a friend who looked like he plays rugby
too, standing right next to him) and then he stood up and I grabbed the
camera and gave him a LOOK (my kids could probably decribe the look).
His friend said something to him and suddenly his demeanor changed and he
started saying"you crazy, you crazy, it was falling out" and suddenly
they were gone as fast as they had appeared, as the double zipper pouch on Tom's
camera backpack hung open.
Our friend Rick says you are more likely to be pick pocketed in Barcelona
than any European city. Uh, yeah. Grateful they were pick pockets rather
than muggers because my "look" wouldn't have stood up to the size of them.
The day continued on a much better note. First Tom decided maybe he should
actually USE the lock he bought to keep pick pockets out of his bag. Then,
as we continued in search of our hostel (not without it's own struggles)
I stopped a large group of actual (although teenaged, and could'nt have
cared less about our camera) rugby players, and a few parents to ask
directions. Immediately a Spanish mom said"Google" as she whipped out her
phone.It turned out to be a Spanish team and a German team here as their
exchange students. All of the kids wanting to practice their English on me, people
Goggleing and discussing results... general mayhem.... when a gray horse
galloped by, bridle flying, down the center of the street, filled with cars just leaving
the German/Spanish rugby match.I kid you not. We all stopped, open mouthed,
laughed and shrugged when he was gone and went about our business. It makes me
giggle just thinking about it. The best part? When the Google mom found
out we were walking, she offered us a ride. Yes please! Her car turned out to be a
two door speck and we felt like we were climbing into a clown car (rugby
players, their gear, backpackers, their gear... you get the picture). Kind of
inspires me to wander around downtown when I get home, looking for travelers,
in need of a helping hand.
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