Just before our train stopped in
We had arranged to meet Rohan at the airport and there he was, waiting with all the others to greet new arrivals. At this stage our large bags were pretty heavy, so it was with pleasure that I handed mine over to Rohan. He had travelled light, with only a small back pack for his couple of days. We caught a bus to Plaza Catalunya, and then followed Keith’s suggestion of going to the apartment we had rented via the cathedral, as a bit of sight seeing. This is never really properly possible with heavy backpacks and every time that I (with only a day pack) or Rohan stopped to look at things, the weight in Keith’s pack was too great for it to be a comfortable proposition. Nevertheless we saw a minute of spectacular break dancing in front of the cathedral, which looked interesting but which was almost entirely shrouded in scaffolding from our angle.
We gained a sense of how maze-like the curving narrow old city streets are, since we were not able to find our way to the apartment. We did not have a good map with all the streets on it, so finally, after asking a few people for help and not getting anywhere, we stopped at a bench for Keith to try ringing the person we were to meet in front of the apartment, for advice. Now, it is important to note that we had just been telling the story of a young friend who had been robbed in
We were all little shaken by the incident, so Keith and Rohan waited while I went off to get advice about telephone boxes since, after all that, we hadn’t been able to reach our contact with our mobile phone. Eventually a lovely woman called Sylvia arrived to show us the way to the apartment. If we had followed the instructions from the Metro station, as they were given, we would have been fine but we were using a poor map to try to come from a different direction.
The apartment was in a very old building but was very modern and looked to be newly refurbished. It had air conditioning, which proved to be essential on the humid nights, and a well equipped kitchen. The exterior and the stair case were fairly antiquated, with the need to climb quickly before the light timer left you in the dark. The lane below had tell-tale streaks of water running in it now and then, with a smell to match, but later I noticed a drain from a roof opening out at pavement level, so perhaps my smell sensors were askew. The walls were cream when we arrived but graffiti appeared, with Rohan being asked by the police a few days later if he had noticed anything and if the loud music that was playing was his.
With our bags and apartment sorted, we set off with Sylvia who kindly showed us where the supermarket was, where the magnificent Arc de Triomf stood and where the station was that Joel would arrive from.We then enjoyed a very short stroll to the Café Napoleon for a settling drink and some spicy potatoes to try something Spanish. Time was ticking on and we were worried that, if we had problems finding the apartment during the day, it might be impossible for Joel at night. Keith went back to the apartment to wait in case he found his way there and Rohan and I walked about on the station and decided that if Joel came on the train, we would be able to see him exit from a vantage point in front of the Arc de Triomf. It was a balmy evening, with many people out and about and a genial group of backpackers waiting for some of their comrades to arrive. Maybe it was the influence of the Arc de Triomf but it had the feel of our first night in
We had a quick tea and a long catch up before settling for the night. It was wonderful to be with the boys and to see them together after such a long time, and I wished that everyone else in the family could have been there with us too.
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