Slept till 7:30. Bath, sit and leisurely breakfast and reading. Near the hotel is an open air escalator which crosses several streets to take you to Parc Guell. I can’t show you any photos as my camera kept disgorging its batteries. But there are lots in Flickr Followed the haunting sounds of a solo trumpet and when I found the busker he invited me to sit and chat. He was Raoul from Cuba, who fled with several friends in a little boat. He poured scorn on Castro and liberal sympathisers in the West – ‘In Britain you can say you don’t like your prime minister without being thrown in jail for it. Always keep your freedom – believe me.’
Then took the metro to the Ramblas, the big pedestrian street that is their Princes St. A gallery of living statues (nice when you see one of them sitting having a cigarette). Fruit juice in the covered market and tapas in by the harbour, then a trip round the city on the tourist bus.
Coffee in the tiny London Bar,
which was a circus people’s bar at the turn of the century; I’ve sat in
the same pub as Picasso! As evening fell I indulged my love of Imax,
watching a film about climbers in the Alps and a 3D one about deep sea
life. Then wandered fairly aimlessly through the Gothic Quarter (not
like Cockburn St, no Goths to be seen) before settling on a restaurant
for a nice meal, wine and read.
Spending all this time alone brings up different aspects of one’s
personality, I’ve found before, and I know it takes me a few days to
settle and get centred.