Barcelona: Arrival

Today we returned from a week in Barcelona. We didn't bring Margo's laptop, but I did bring a notepad to write in to make these posts easier on our return. Here are my notes from our first day.

Sunday morning. We are in the air. An EasyJet from London Stansted. Valet parking was smooth but everything else was a queue. We'd paid the bit extra to board early and be in the express line, but it wasn't moving much compared to the others. We were later advised to join a closing queue for our flight. Then the security queue, where Margo's bag was searched extra thoroughly as it had lipstick and other girly stuff. Then the lounge, and then a boarding queue, and then an exit queue, from which we crossed the tarmac in heavy rain. Looking down now, the view is of solid clouds.

Behind us are three hyper boys. They've just ordered jelly beans and hot chocolates.

Margo says I smell of alcohol. Last night a mate and I went to a beer festival at the Dove Street Inn. I don't recall every one I sampled but I did enjoy Adnams Tally Ho racked for three months, an oaked ale at 9%, and a Belgian style ale from nearby Felixstowe at 13.5%. I know there were some goldens mixed in also, but I also ate a lot of food. Oddly, I do remember some of our bike ride home.

Early evening. We had some scary turbulence coming over the Pyrenees and a rough landing. People cheered once we slowed down.

It was raining. We knew it would be from the forecast we'd seen days ago. It will rain for several days, perhaps our entire trip. It wasn't much different than Stansted, just warmer.

We're staying in a one-bedroom flat. Three beds and a kitchen. Two rooms have balconies overlooking a busy boulevard. Trees line the street and the tops reach near our balconies.

On the ride from the airport, our taxi stopped for a light on front of Gaudi's La Pedrera apartment building, so I got some quick snaps. Our flat is just up the street from it, about two blocks.



We were met at the door by Michael, an American who works with the rental agency. He gave us our keys and showed us where everything was in the flat. Then we went out for a late lunch. We were quite tired (we'd woke around 4 in the morning) so we stopped at the first place that looked good - for us, a buffet. We got salads and pastas. Then it was back to the flat for long kips.

Evening. Now we are having dinner in a tapas bar named Tapa Tapa. I suspect it's a chain. But back to my narration.

I didn't really sleep so I went for a walk. From our flat, near the Avinguda Diagonal, I walked to La Ramblas de Catalunya, a long pedestrianised shopping street. On our end there are shops and cafés, but as I kept downhill toward the waterfront, the crowds of tourists (and touristy shops and restaurants) thickened until one could no longer walk quickly.

Now I have to interrupt again because our food just arrived. Margo and I are sharing a small bottle of Tempranillo, a rich red wine. We have cherry tomatoes with walnuts and cheese; breaded cheese croquettes; seafood paella; duck skewer with caramelised pears; and a ham baguette for Sarah. And more! A squash blossom stuffed with mozarella, fried in tempura batter; small Andalucian fishes, breaded; and fries with aoli sauce for Sarah.



Well, back to my stroll. I hadn't intended to walk so far, but I made it all the way to the harbourside. I hadn't brought the camera as it was raining off and on, and I figured I'd be back soon enough with better weather, but I wished I'd brought it at the time.

I was a bit overwhelmed by the city, though it's hard to describe just why. There are lots of pedestrian paths, including a raised walkway along the harbourside above a lane of auto traffic. There's a cable car overhead. It was the first chance I had to see some of the tall office buildings, some of which feature quite interesting architecture. And then there's the unique architectural stylings of the Modernista buildings - that alien-looking combination of tiles and colours and odd, organic bulges and curves.

I walked along the harbourside path to the Via Laietana, eventually cutting over to the Passeig de Gràcia, our flat's street, passing more shops and restaurants and getting a closer look at Gaudí's Pedrera.

OK, time to eat.

Sarah's had a go with the camera. We're ordering dessert next. Sorbets for Sarah, yogurt and caramelised strawberries for Margo, and a "pinya colada" smoothie for me.



I'm getting quite tired now. I said "cheers" to our waiter by mistake. Margo and I have been just getting by with our high school Spanish. We do better than we do in other countries. But when I hear Spanish I only get about every fifth word.

Right. That's as much as I'll get done tonight. Tomorrow I should have time to type up a few more days' worth of notes, with pictures.

Abbey Road

Tonight after work I went to visit Abbey Road. I walked to Moorgate, took the Circle Line to Baker Street (home of Sherlock Holmes), then took the Jubilee Line north one stop to St Johns Wood. This tube station is perhaps the classiest in London. This is the view ascending. I really liked the light fixtures, and I've never seen daylight before whilst riding up a Tube escalator.



From the station it was a short walk to what is perhaps the world's most famous zebra crossing.



Traffic was fairly busy so I couldn't get quite the same angle that The Beatles did on their cover, from the middle of the street. Besides, this crossing isn't even in the same place as it was in 1969 - but it's close.

The crossing is also right by the Abbey Road Studios. Even though I couldn't enter the studio, or even the car park, I wanted to come and see it with my eyes as a music fan, since there's so much musical history here. The Beatles and Pink Floyd recorded most of their albums here, so this is where the sonic experimentation of Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and The Dark Side of the Moon took place. Alan Parsons worked as an engineer on albums by both bands and went on to start his Project, which was so highly engineered that it couldn't be played live. The studios have also been the site of many classical recordings and film scores, and has been used by some of my favourite artists including Kate Bush, Radiohead, Depeche Mode, and Massive Attack. This is the studios' main entrance.



The wall in front of the studio is left for fans to leave messages. It's painted over regularly. I didn't write anything.



I returned to the Tube station and took the Jubilee Line south to Bond Street and walked Oxford Street. I know I've written about Oxford Street before, but it is such a shopping destination. I think it's literally miles of shops, and contains flagship stores for many of the UK's biggest shops, including Marks & Spencer, Topshop, John Lewis, and Selfridges. I started heading east, or so I thought, but after maybe a quarter of a mile I realised I was headed the wrong way because I saw I was approaching Marble Arch and Hyde Park. But since the density of shoppers didn't decrease, I assumed I was going the right direction, towards Regent Street. But one nice thing was that I got to take in the display windows at Selfridges, which are quite artistic.

Crossing Regent Street, I was soon at my destination, the HMV music shop. The Oxford Street store is perhaps the largest music store in the UK, and I come here now and then as they stock titles I can't find anywhere else. Not because they're specialists - they're quite bland, and the smaller stores carry only the most popular titles - but their voluminous shelf space lets them keep a huge inventory. Since I had our camera I got some hasty snaps.



One of the titles I got was Abbey Road as I don't have any Beatles recordings past The White Album. I almost balked at the £16 price - it seems Beatles albums never go on sale - but I couldn't pass up this most appropriate of souvenirs.

Sarah Bikes

Sarah had a bike in Portland but we didn't progress to removing the training wheels. During our stay here in England, we haven't advanced on this. I didn't buy Sarah a bigger bike here because I wasn't sure she'd use it much, and we don't have a good place to put it.

But we were able to borrow one last weekend. One of Sarah's best mates lives around the corner from us, and we're good friends with the family. Recently I suggested to John that perhaps Sarah could borrow Elliot's bike on a weekend, and so Sunday afternoon we walked to the nearby golf course/commons and found a nice area of gently sloping lawn.

I'd always thought that teaching your child to ride a bike would be a momentous father-child moment, where your directions and advice are faithfully taken, your child beams in appreciation, and choirs of angels sing in the background. But of course it didn't work out that way.

John and I traded off pushing Sarah and letting go to encourage her to coast.



But she wasn't coasting far. She was struggling with her balance, and didn't seem to know how to lean and stay upright. And she also had that combination of being scared but not wanting to show it, to want us to leave her alone, but at the same time to want us to guide her every move the moment she got scared.

And we struggled: how do you teach someone to stay balanced? It's kind of innate. We tried a few techniques but in the end, we just had to keep bringing her to the top of the slope, guiding her for a bit, and seeing what she did afterwards.

Then she got it.



She needs more practice - she's definitely too wobbly to ride on a sidewalk or street - but she's over the hump, and if I had to give a yes or no answer to the question of whether she can ride a bike, it's a definite yes.

New Tool

Today Sarah spent some of her allowance to get a sonic screwdriver. (I got her to do a serious David Tennant-like pose with it.)



We've used it to "unlock" several doors in our house this afternoon.

Edinburgh, Days 3 and 4

Our Sunday was a very lazy one. We had our darkest skies that day, though it seldom rained outright. I went to a nearby shop for the Sunday Times in time for breakfast. Afterwards we spent hours reading and relaxing, broken by a movie borrowed from our hosts' VHS video collection.

Later I walked into town just to take a stroll. I felt a bit sad walking around as I realised it would probably be my last leisurely look at the city.

None of us were too excited to find another place for dinner, especially on a Sunday night when things close early. I volunteered to go out and scout for decent sandwiches from a grocery store, and Sarah was conscripted to accompany me as she'd spent her whole day indoors. So we had a long walk to a Tesco for sandwiches, crisps, juices and biscuits for dessert, feeding the three of us for ten quid. And that was our Sunday.

Monday was a leisurely departure. We had an unhurried breakfast and called a taxi to catch our 9:30 train. The total journey, including a relaxed layover in Peterborough, was about six and a half hours, a bit shorter than a drive would have been. Margo was glad to not have to drive for so long.

Monday was also a day of shockingly warm weather and perfectly blue skies. It was surreal, almost. Like going to sleep in winter and waking up in summer. Suddenly we're all in shirtsleeves, and our winter coats seem very silly. And it's been like that all week. Temperatures in the low to mid twenties. (In winter, we set our thermostat to 18.)

For me the most memorable part of our return journey was seeing the massive sculpture Angel of the North, just south of Newcastle. I hadn't noticed it on the way north.

But soon enough we were back in Ipswich, facing heaps of laundry, little food, and barely enough time to write these posts.

Edinburgh Day 2

Saturday's weather was overcast skies, but there didn't seem to be much chance of rain. On this visit, we didn't have much of an agenda. We'd already seen the touristy stuff on our last visit. Margo mostly wanted to enjoy some downtime after a stressful week. My main goal was to climb Arthur's Seat, and Sarah was ready for it also. So after a fine English breakfast, Sarah and I returned to yesterday's starting point, but this time with a better view of the climb ahead.



We took our time up the switchbacks, pausing now and then and sipping from our water bottles. Sarah was a bit scared in some of the steeper parts but carried on. Soon enough the steepness leveled and we found ourselves at the top, with a full view of the city.



Next we resolved to climb partway down and continue on the top of the crags toward the bottom of the Royal Mile. The crags are like a big shelf, and walking along near its edge one can look down on the city for the whole walk. Here's a view of them from the summit.



It's like walking through a meadow on the top of the city. On our right was a gently sloping grassy plain; on our left, a great view. Around this time Margo called. She'd been wandering Old Town and found a tea room to settle in for a while, where we could meet up with her. I could see the intersection she described and estimated we'd be there in half an hour.



We worked our way along the descending ridge, the view like that from a plane that's landing: first everything is below you, then gradually you see it from the side, until you're next to it. We met the ground across from the football field in Holyrood Park. Then we passed Holyrood Palace, the Scottish Parliament buildings, and ascended the Royal Mile, meeting Margo about 2/3rds of its mile later.

We had some lunch, and then split up as Margo and Sarah wanted to get afternoon naps. I went off wandering. I decided to do some pub hunting. Like I mentioned earlier, most pubs in the touristy areas are geared towards revelers and sports fans. I was looking for a pub for people who enjoy the taste of good beer. My first thought was to find a library and a Good Pub Guide, so I set off to the grounds of the Scottish National Gallery to see if a library might be nearby. One wasn't, but I did swing through for a quick shot of culture, enjoying some nice Italian landscapes and French impressionists. Staff wore tartan trousers.

Then I crossed over to New Town. I walked a block or so of some streets I hadn't encountered, like Thistle and Queen, but didn't find anything promising. I'd bookmarked a pub at the end of Rose Street, so I eventually made my way there, and knew I'd found gold when I saw a chalkboard outside showing their five guest taps.

And so I spent some time at the Abbotsford pub. The guest taps were new enough that not even the bar staff could guide me. I enjoyed a stout-like strong ale, and a rich coppery brown.



I walked back, looking for more pubs but not finding ones I wanted to visit. Approaching our bed and breakfast, I saw the locations of important "firsts" for us. The first crosswalk, at Priestfield and Dalkieth, where we slavishly obeyed the Walk signal because we knew we'd look the wrong way for oncoming traffic. The sidewalk where, as a bus approached, I had an "oh crap" moment as I dug through the change from new notes and realised I had no idea what coins had which value.

Sarah and Margo were sleeping when I returned. I was in the mood for fish and chips and real ale, and I knew Margo would want something more formal, so I called the Abbotsford and ensured they allowed children for dining, and made a reservation. So an hour and a half later we bused to Princes Street and walked to the pub for dinner.

We didn't wander afterwards - the others were keen to return, so we took a taxi back and that rounded out our second day.

Edinburgh Day 1

To give a bit more detail to Sarah's succinct summary ...

We recently returned from a four-day Bank Holiday weekend in Edinburgh. It's the only city we've revisited, and sort of a homecoming for us, as it was our first quality time in Europe two summers ago.

Our trip started on Friday. Margo and I had taken off work, and written a note to excuse Sarah's absence. We left Ipswich just after 8 in the morning. Our train took us north to Peterborough. The land became more flat, and after some time we saw some of the Norfolk Broads, a series of canals raised above the fields that are used for leisure boating in the spring and summertime.

In Peterborough we had some early lunch and changed onto a London train bound for Aberdeen. After a while we passed through York, which hadn't seemed to have changed much since we saw it last weekend. Then Newcastle again. I'd seen Get Carter since our last visit, so this time I recognised the multistorey car park from the film that's soon to be demolished.

We've been to Edinburgh and to Newcastle, but hadn't previously traveled between the two, so the remainder of our route was new scenery, and quite interesting at that. The hills became higher, and eventually we saw the North Sea to our right as we followed the east coast north, then gradually turning west as we approached Edinburgh. We saw Arthur's Seat long before I recognised it for what it is.

Margo and Sarah wanted to go straight to our bed and breakfast for afternoon kips, and I couldn't imagine turning down a chance to stroll around one of our favourite cities, so after we pulled into Waverley Station, I walked them to the taxi stand and we parted ways. My first stop was to cross the street to the same tavern (The Doric Column) where we had our first pints (and my first fish and chips) in the UK. Remember this from two summers ago?



Here I am again.



Then it was up Cockburn Street to Avalanche Records, one of the last and finest of the UK independent record stores. Up briefly to the Royal Mile, then back across the way from Old Town to New Town and Princes Street, visiting a few shops and taking more snaps.



Then, at the end of the street, I went up one to Rose Street and toured the pubs. I forgot how rubbish most of them are. Signs of a mediocre pub. The Scottish standards are Deuchars, Tetleys and Caledonian, so seeing one of these three on a window or doorway: bad sign. Advertising footie games on a big screen: bad sign. Warnings about wearing football colours: a very bad sign. I think I stopped somewhere but it wasn't memorable. I noticed a Fopp record store and browsed. Then I found a bus heading south, paid my one quid fare (cheaper than even Ipswich) and headed to our bed and breakfast.

I caught up with Colin and Trina, the caretakers at our bed and breakfast, the same one we'd stayed at two summers ago. I'd assumed Margo and Sarah had taken naps, but they were wide awake, having just finished afternoon tea with Colin and Trina. It was great to be back in our room. It's a huge room, perhaps the best we've had at a bed and breakfast. Really high ceilings, plenty of space, and extra chairs for reading or just lounging.



We decided to get dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant we'd visited last time. It was quite good, though perhaps a bit pricey for the quality. We came back as the evening sun was setting. The weather was supposed to be rainy for the rest of the weekend. I considered making a climb of Arthur's Seat while there was still some sun, and to my surprise, Sarah wanted to go also.

So after dinner, despite being overfed, I changed into trainers and we walked up Dalkeith Road to Holyrood Park Road, entering the park and climbing partway to the top. I made it to a road that circled the Seat, but didn't see a safe way to the summit in the setting light, so Sarah and I enjoyed the view from where we were. Sarah, of course, posing in her special way.





Then it was back to our room to conclude our first day in Edinburgh.

Edinburgh

In Edinburgh me and Dad climbed Athurs Seat.
When we got to the top we took some pictures.
Then the long way down.
After that we walked up the Cregs.
When we got to the top we took more pictures.
Then we walked down again.
Next we went to meet Mom near the Palace.
I had lunch there.