trip to barcelona...

OK so it´s time to roll the dice and move onto bigger and better adventures. So what do I dream up? A train ride to Barcelona!!!

OK a little bit more to the story...Again I live in Costa Brava. Tossa de mar is about a little over an hour drive north from Barcelona. By train it takes about 90 minutes hitting all the resort towns along the coast. Now this may seems like nothing to the average reader but it is something to me. Usually hen we drive along the coast, I get to memorize the names of the cities so I know I am going the correct way. you see there is no North I-95...just an interstate and a major city along the way.

The nearest town with a train is Blanes. Blanes is two towns down. The station reminded me of Ashland´s train station. It is small and just how I like it. From there I can go north to Girona, the second largest city in Catalunya and largest in the subarea Girona in which Tossa is a part of. Once at the station, I do my best to communicate with the ticket lady and surprisingly, mostly because there are only 2 options, north or south, one way or round trip, I get ti right the first time. I read my ticket and realize, I don't understand it. So I pray and hope I am going the right direction.

I did not have to wait too long as the train pulled into the station rather quickly. reading the schedule, I had 30 minutes between trains so easy to miss one and jump the next one. I take my seat and we are on our way. At the stop in Santa Susana, a group of German kids all got on and the train quickly filled to capacity. They must be on holiday or something. They all seemed in their teens. I would imagine all of their parents were from East Germany due to the incredible wide shoulders of most of the girls. Still Hitler would be proud of all the blond hair and blue eyes that gleamed in my passenger car. It looked like an audition for the Micky Mouse Club or a Mandy Moore concert.

We arrived in Barcelona after a few million stops and no train changes. I got off at Placa de Catalunya. This is pretty much the center of he city. It's a huge square with the biggest round about you could imagine. In all directions are billboards and shopping centers and of course ATMs. As I ascend into the busy area, I am greeted by noise, tourists of all makes and a weird brightness from the overcast sky. A chill was settling in as the weather is beginning to change. Mornings are filled with a damp chill and by 11am there is a bright and full sunlight filling the entire area. Of course dressing i layers is a good idea if you plan on leaving he house fora while.

Part of this adventure was to make contact with a new friend, Jane. She is from California and recently moved here to Barcelona with her daughter for her daughter's last year of high school. We planned on meeting at Cafe Zurich to have some coffee and chat. She is an intelligent, adventurous and lovely lady who kept the conversation going. We laughed and traded our "moving to Spain" stories. She hipped me to some ins and outs which i greatly appreciated. Before long we were settle and comfortable and laughing and talking about the locals in English hoping to not be overheard by those passerbys we are talking about.

One of the unfortunate thing about siting in the plaza are the panhandlers. Of course, I thankfully appreciate not being homeless. But I did find some humor in the frequent interruptions from the beggars. So the first panhandler came by and it hit me in the soft spot...oh and in my heart, too. The soft spot is my wallet if you had not guessed. I pulled a few coins I had been collecting and handed them to an older lady with a baby in her arms. The second pan handler was a younger lady with very pretty purplish eyes that made me melt. The third was a man, maybe about 30 with no shoes. The fourth, and last one I could take, was and older man about 11o years of age with a picture of the "white Jesus"picture. One by one, I randomly grabbed a a few coins and filled their cup, holding purse or what other concoction they presented to me and Jane.

Since I seem to not do well with coins, I tend to collect them. I only seem to want to spend paper money. Most knew I failed Ninja school because I always seemed to have and fairly awkward amount of coins in my pocket at any given time. I avoided metal detectors in fear of having to dig thru my pockets to prevent from having to go thru the body cavity search. Surprisingly the lady guard with the hairy arms was pleasantly gentle. Here the money comes in many different sizes for the different denominations. There is a 5, 10 20, 50 100 euros...just like in all civilized nations, but they come in different sizes for the blind. If only Ray Charles were here today! Then he would not have to be paid in ones. Actually he would not want to be paid in ones...they are coins! Ray would have had some fat pockets. The 2 € also come in coins, slightly bigger than the 1€. So needless to say, I am weighed down in case of high beach winds.

So let´s get back to the beggars. Some say I have a photographic memory. The bad part of that is that I do not have Target to process my film within a few hours, it usually takes me a few days to get the prints and negatives back. When I did, I reprocessed my photos and I made some startling discoveries. Beggar one...what is this old lady doing with a baby. Yeah in Spain people tend to wait until their 30´s to have kids, hell they don´t even move out of their parents until they are in their late 20´s. But grandma was working the kid angle and had me hooked.

Beggar two...youth and beauty. Two thing most people tend to be drawn to in life. I was floored at this young girl who seemingly never learned humility because of a her need to pan handle to survive. How could I deny her my spare change?

Beggar 3...no shoes...I mean what better investment than hooking up someone with a pair of shoes. Funny thing is I can´t find a pair of shoes to fit me. See I wear a size 14...that translates to a size 49.5 in Spain. Sorry but that number, even though it´s equal in different measurements, still sounds like a bigger foot. But looking at the the prints in my mind, he looked like a size 13...and better manicures toes than I have!!! He might have been trying to get new acrylics for his pinkie toe. AUGH! As I look closer, amazed at how perfect his toenails were, I realize I see beggar two hailing a cab in the background. I have been duped!

Jane comes up with a lovely, and less expensive idea. So we ventured on foot down Las Ramblas. Las Ramblas is actually a collection of streets combining to form one long stretch a road and wde walking area stretching from Plaça Catalunya all the way down to the harbor and the statue of Christopher Columbus. We strolled down, making a quick stop in the Nike store to see if they had my shoe size...no such luck. Street performers are always come up with new and exciting ways to entertain. My favorite is the Michael Jackson impersonator. Every year he upgrades his act because, and let´s face it, something new is always happening with Wacko Jacko. This year he had a sign saying "kids eat free...". There are millions for side streets with many hidden treasures such as other performers who are honing their art. I guess you would consider them off-Broadway.

Time crept up on me and Jane and I returned back to our original meeting place. We said our goodbyes and parted ways. I prayed again I was catching the correct train and hopped aboard. Sitting back in my chair, I soaked up the sun and gazed at the passing beaches and the occasional topless sunbather. Unfortunately fat old men can be just as appealing when it comes to being topless as some women who feel they have a Right to take their tops off. Difference is that the men hover around a C cup while most women´s breasts hover around their bellies...gravity is a bitch.

Finally making it home after a 6 hour trek to and from, I smiled and patted myself on the back. I went to have a quick coffee at my favorite spot, Comics run by my favorite Dutchman, Eric. As I watched the sun dip past the hills to the west, a man strolled up to me and asked to use my lighter. I blindly grabbed for it and turned to the stranger, noticing his shoes first. Not often you see blue suede shoes since the 50s. The man thanked me as he lit his cig and strolled on. As he walked away, his silhouette was defined by the ever fading light. Still , I would put money on it, but that was beggar number 3!