And that, children, means "In the beginning"...
David and I decided to spread our European wings and instead of bathing in Paris this year, we dithered between hitting good ol' London or exploring urban Spain as a Springtime treat. It was touch and go for a while, but as the New England gloom descended in March, Spanish websites screamed our names.
Right. Barcleona and Madrid. 4 days each. End of May.
D left today for his bicycle tour in Tuscany. I follow next week to Barcelona where we will have a joyous reunion, racing in slow mo through a field of daisies (ummmmmm-wrong movie)- or whereI will hurl myself into his arms from the staircase, and we'll smooch passionately to the sound of castanets- Theoretically.
We booked the hotels, got plane and train tickets and purchased pocket sized guides for each city. Ready or not...
HOwever- into each trip some panic must fall, and the first of ours was Aer Lingus. Now I have fond memories of this priest-blessed airline from my experiences on it 25 years ago. Deep seats. Cold Guiness. Lovely blankets and stews with accents that would melt butter... However. They have apparently changed with the times. A couple of months after the reservations were confirmed, they canceled my flight and had nothing suitable to replace it. (Wouldn't you like to come in a day later? We won't pay for the hotel, but it will mean you don't have to sleep in airport chairs all night. I would not. May I speak to the ticket agent or supervisor who could help me with this? No. We don't allow that.) I ended up cancelling and rebooking with Air France. Two weeks later, Aer Lingus pulled the same trick with David's return flight. Only they agreed to pay for his Dublin hotel while he waited for his next day out flight. So I get home on the 31st, while he arrives on the 1st. Quelle drag. So far, though, Air France holds steady...
The second pain was the hotel in Barcelona. It has, for the most part, great web reviews. Hotwire (loathesome outfit that it is, but that's another story)gave it 3.5 stars. It seemed to be perfect. It still seems to be perfect. Except for one small item. It's in the red light disctrict. The guide book assures me that the district is changing, but, ummmm, better be a little careful about rambling around at night. (See http://www.blogonlyapartments.com/el-raval-barcelona/) OHMIGOD. I have been downing prilosec like crazy and trying not to kill myself here.
I did originally write a really greusome worst case scenario here, but it was too scary to leave on this blog- especially in my first post. What's the probable worst thing that would happen to me? Someone will steral my camera and what cash I'm carrying with me- never much. Things are beginning to look up.
A friend was kind enough to contact a Barcelonan friend of hers to ask him what he thought. Not bad, he said, if you go out in the daytime. It could be OK otherwise, too. Most people have no problems. As a matter of fact, the people on a couple of reveiws sites give it high marks and didn't mention the fear factor at all. So it's just me getting old that's doing this. Hey, I spent a night in a whorehouse in Jackson Mississippi one time and lived to tell (endlessly- just ask me) the tale. Dangerous and amusing.
Enough with predictable vacations! On with adventure! On with life!!! Ole!!!
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