The last
adventurous morning went very smoothly. I biked up the hill to pick up my
devices and on the way I pulled over to have breakfast during the sunrise over
Barcelona. Then I had my last bigger downhill and I must say that I rode very
carefully not to make it my really last downhill ever. The meandering road with
steep cliffs made me ride utmost cautiously, only about 35 km/h. Biking in the
city was in my opinion safer than riding that downhill.
My plan for
today was to explore the city centre, to do some sights on the other side of
the city, and to take a swim in the sea before leaving for a randez-vous with
my ride-share.
The first
sight I visited was the Sagrada Familia by Gaudi that left me really
underwhelmed. I was rather disguised by the endless hordes of tourists seizing
the never-finished cathedral. Nothing would get me there, even if the entrance
were for free. I simply do not see the point of waiting for several hours just
to see some piece of architecture, however famous it might be. The reason for
it is quite simple: after such a long time I would be too exhausted to enjoy it
at all. I rather had my breakfast, took some pictures from outside and felt
amused at the nervous tourists waiting impatiently for their glorious
sightseeing.
On the way
to the city centre I ran into a small bar with a very original name Bar
Barcelona. I was lured by a billboard that was offering paila, the typical
Spanish food that I had on my must taste list. Unfortunately, I did not manage
to order this meal on the Camino, neither later in Santiago, where it was
awfully expensive. I really wanted to taste it, but I did not have 10 € for it;
therefore, I went to the bar and asked whether I could pay by card. The server
told me that it is not possible and disappointed, I thanked and left. Still, I
could not shake the idea and decided to come back. Supposing that I had only
8,50 € in coins and few more cents, I was wondering whether I could not at
least get a small portion of this meal. So I wrote down on a piece of paper
that I, as a Slovak pilgrim, am going to stay in Barcelona and in Spain in
general for one more day and my dearest wish is to taste this national dish,
but I have only this little money. I looked imploringly at the server and when
he understood, he agreed and told me with a big warm smile that it can be done
somehow. I was deliriously happy, thanked once again and said that by 12 am I
would be back.
When I came
to the bar, the server recognized me immediately, as well as one guest who was
there also in the morning. Full of shame, I pulled out my small fortune in many
small coins and carefully put it on the bar. The server looked a little
incredulously and then put it to the cash register. In the meantime, I engaged in
a conversation with the guest who saw me in the morning. He changed to English
which encouraged me to talk more. I told him about my trip, the major
highlights such as changing the bike, health problems etc. and he listened to me
with great enthusiasm. Later he told me that it was also his dram to do
something similar, but never had a chance to undertake such a journey. Now,
with the family, job and plenty of other duties to be taken care of, he cannot
afford doing something crazy like this. I pointed out that never say never and
named Krzystof as a shining example that it is truly possible, but he just
smiled and said that it would be very difficult for him right now. I mentioned
that I am writing a blog and he was interested In having a look at it, so I
gave him the internet address. We chatted for nice 20 minutes and in the
meantime, my dish was ready. The man was already leaving so we exchanged nice
greetings and wished good luck to each other. Afterwards, I swooped on my Spanish
specialty with great anticipation. Paila is actually something like a Slovak risotto,
but juicier and in many cases also tastier. My dish was absolutely awesome, I
had some see food in it and the decent portion did not really give the
impression that the ration was anyhow limited. I reckon that in the end, the
nice waiter decided to give me the full portion for 2 people for the original
price. I enjoyed this food thoroughly for it was in face my first warm meal in
a week (I do not count that funny omelet as a warm dish). Absolutely delighted
by this experience, I thanked to the waiter very much for all of that and left
to a nearby park by the cathedral to have a small afternoon siesta with the
rest of my Sangria.
I also ha
several interesting experiences in the city centre. As I was passing by the
Cathedral of Barcelona, I could not endure an older women screaming woefully
for money. I solved her problem very simply – gave her food instead of money. I
like to offer food to beggars, it silence them at least for the moment I am around
and I have a better feeling about it as if I gave them money. When I was
passing this old woman I pointed at my yesterday's baguette and asked if she
wanted it. It surprised me that she actually looked delighted and did not hesitate
for a moment to take my offer. This was a win-win situation. I have run out of
olive oil, thus I had nothing to eat that baguette with and I still had my undestroyable, thanks to all additives for
eternity freshly looking toast bread from Lidl so I was well cared of. I hope
that the woman made some use of that baguette.
Later I
helped similarly one guy who looked he was having a pretty bad day. Poor little
wrench, he was robbed of all his belonging and had no shelter, no food and
almost no hope, judging from his desperate face expression. I felt pity for him
and left him some of those muffins from which I might have run out prickles and
did not want to eat them anyway. He also looked surprised and delighted,
despite the fact that I left him only 5 miniscule muffins. Later I regretted
having been so parsimonious and came back to bring him other 2 bigger muffins
that were originally intended for my next breakfast, but I could still share
half of them. Unfortunately, I could not
find that man, he simply disappeared. Either I boosted his spirits with those 4
muffins to the extent that he summoned up his last strength to go to the
embassy that he was to visit that afternoon according to his paper note, or it
was all just a fraudulent story, I was taken in and he simply changed his
begging territory. Be it as it may, I helped both with sincere intentions and
it did not cost me much.
There is actually
a bizarre experience behind my predilection to give food to beggars instead of
money. A long time ago, when I worked as a trainee waiter on various luxurious
banquets, I and several friends of mine valiantly decided to take leftovers of approximately
30 collops to homeless people at night during a break instead of throwing them
away. However, our good will was not appreciated at all – on the contrary, we
were almost taken for fools. One man showed his wallet and told us: "Look,
this is what I earn every day, I do not need to eat any shit of yours, just eat
it yourself". He had approximately 1500 Slovak crowns, in his pocket,
equivalent to 50 €. Just for comparison, I earned that night only 35 €, having
worked my tail off, and this guy simply begged more money with almost no effort
at all. This was a realy wake up call for me. Since then, I have not given a penny
to a beggar, but rather try to help otherwise. They would use the money for
booze, anyway.
I forgot to
mention that the man from the bar gave me a very useful advice about beaches in
Barcelona. Supposing that I had to leave my bike somewhere outside the beach,
it was wiser to go to the most luxurious beach in the city where nobody would
give a damn about my bike and belongings. So I went to the Blue Beach, a very
famous upper-class beach right next to a five star hotel W - a good choice,
indeed.
As usually,
I was confronted with the most common problem: I had to keep my valuables safe
and since I was there alone and tourists could not be trusted, I was left with
no other option but to ask at one of the beach bars whether they could keep an
eye on my things for a while. I came to one nice lady, humbled few words in
Spanish, asking whether she speak English (for me actually a very well trained
phrase that I use as an opening gambit), but after explaining my situation, I
was rejected. I perfectly understand that my request is a little bit out of
term and staff cannot ponder to every whim of their customers (especially in my
case for I was not even a customer). I was a little bit disappointed, but if I
wanted to go swimming, I had to find someone willing to help me. I went
straight to the opposite bar, a very noble one, associated with the luxurious 5
star W hotel. The bartender looked at me also incredulously, but when I
explained that I urgently need it and it is just a small bag, he acquiesced.
Then he spotted my St. Jacobs shell and was interested whether I was on the Camino
so I told him my story in a nutshell. He looked quite delighted and the tension
in the conversation quickly disappeared. Even a college of him introduced
herself and we chatted a little. I promised that I would send the link of my
blog to her – thanks Jenny for your kind help ;)
I swam for
about 40 minutes in the sea until I got totally tired and could not swim
anymore. It was the purpose to enjoy my triumphal swimming to the fullest.
Afterwards I read again All Quiet on the Western Front, and was pondering that
I am now actually living like a king compared to the horrific conditions from
the book.
Next to me
there was a cute girl, sitting and reading. Reading girls always draw my attention – there can be hardly something more
attractive than girls doing sports, dancing, and reading. Still, there was
little time left and I had to go soon, so I just finished another chapter, put
my things together, had a shower (what a luxury!) and left. This evening I was
supposed to get to a town situated about 12 km from Barcelona and then take the
road through the hills. Having wanted to avoid the evening traffic, I chose the
bike route along the beach, but many tourists made it difficult to ride fast.
One the other hand, I had another opportunity to have a glimpse on the big
urbanization in the Spanish style. Suburbs grow like mushrooms and all
facilities looked so new and nice. I only hope that young Spanish will be able
to afford living in these residential dwellings. However, this route slowed me
significantly and I was 20 km behind my schedule. It was getting pitch dark and
everything became much more complicated. My bike lights did not work for some
reason (maybe careless manipulation during the transportation from Santiago to
Barcelona) and I had to rely completely on my headlamp. With a narrow beam of
light and a strobe red led light, I had to go uphill on a complicated and
dangerous road with pretty much traffic. I can tell you that it was not pleasant
at all and I could not wait until I see the end of it. Firstly I wanted to
build my base right to the road on a very tiny place, but in the end, I decided
to ride few more kilometers to find something more decent. Luckily I managed
that and was immensely thankful that there was no mad driver speeding on the
road because it would have been too late until he could have seen my reflection
strips Now after having found a good place to stay I can still hear breaking
tires of in these narrow, meandering hill streets.
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