I am in my 7th floor room in Barcelona. There's a park across the street with young Barcelenos scampering around, sophisticates sauntering in all directions and me, staring out the window at the mountains, the funicula that begins just a few blocks from here and careens up the mountain side and a breathtaking trio of smokestacks. It took a little adjusting, but I am now settled in typing on my new miraclemini computer.
I am only semi comatose due to the fact that I was too excited to sleep on the first flight and the other two were puddle jumpers. I actually and in fact did make the first Aer Euro flight from Madrid to Barca, so since I was 1.5 hours ahead of schedule, I gave myself permission to dawdle in the Barcelona airport which is totally waaaaay more sophisticated than Logan,let me tell you. Couldn't eat much. Nauseated like I was when I got too jet lagged in Paris once. I did go out of my way top stay ultra hydrated, though, and as a result I can accurately report on the conditions of every bathroom in the airports. I woke up at 7AM on Friday, took a 2 hour nap at most on plane one and maybe 1/2 each on the next two flights. Due to a seating mix up, a handsome young stew gently woke me out of a sound snooze (was I snoring) and asked if I needed a wheelchair.
Barcelona is already knocking me out... Took the bus from the airport to Placa Espana and caught a cab from there by pointing to the sentence I needed in the guide book and handing the cabbie the hotel card that I'd made. He was amused, but got me here for a gallant price.
Time for nightnight.... I'll probly wake up just in time for a fashionable continental dinner- 9PM.
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