Wednesday, March 31, 1976, Barcelona, Spain
Willem, Charles and I left Paris last night after dinner. The trains are never late and the one to Barcelona was scheduled to leave exactly at 9:06 p.m. We were casual with our time and had to run to catch the train. We came within seconds of missing it. That was way too stressful. Never want to do that again.
The first-class cabins are very comfortable with three seats facing each other. The arm rests fold up so you can lie down. We had hopes of getting a cabin to ourselves so we could sleep, but because of our tardiness, we had limited choices. The only cabin left had a newly married Australian couple in it, and the five of us spent the next twelve hours together. Cozy.
Train from Paris to Barcelona along the Mediterranean
We arrived at the train station in Barcelona early this morning. Another sleepless night for me, but not so for Willem and Charles. They both fell asleep right away. I don't know how, as cramped as the cabin was. I ended up on the floor.
The first thing on our agenda was to eat and then find rooms for two nights. In an effort to show the guys that I am not just a weak-link tag-along, but rather a woman competent enough to get us hotel rooms, I walked into the lobby of the first hotel I saw and said, "Tiene alguna habitations de hotel para esta noche?" Translation: "Do you have any hotel rooms for tonight?" I had practiced that line over and over (without my two companions knowing) from a small English to Spanish book I carried with me, and I felt pretty smug about how good it was received by the man behind the desk. My goal was to impress. The man looked up and smiled back at me (Good! He understood me), and then he said in a perfect midwestern American accent, "No, Ma'am, I'm sorry. We are full up." Willem said nothing, walked out of the lobby and went right next door to another hotel where he was able to get us two rooms.
The first thing on our agenda was to eat and then find rooms for two nights. In an effort to show the guys that I am not just a weak-link tag-along, but rather a woman competent enough to get us hotel rooms, I walked into the lobby of the first hotel I saw and said, "Tiene alguna habitations de hotel para esta noche?" Translation: "Do you have any hotel rooms for tonight?" I had practiced that line over and over (without my two companions knowing) from a small English to Spanish book I carried with me, and I felt pretty smug about how good it was received by the man behind the desk. My goal was to impress. The man looked up and smiled back at me (Good! He understood me), and then he said in a perfect midwestern American accent, "No, Ma'am, I'm sorry. We are full up." Willem said nothing, walked out of the lobby and went right next door to another hotel where he was able to get us two rooms.
With Willem leading the way, Charles and I walked past the hotel clerk on our way up the stairs. He smiled and stepped out from behind the desk and asked--also in very good English--if I needed any assistance getting to my room. Willem stopped and motioned for me to go on ahead of him, and then I heard him say that we could find the way by ourselves. After checking out both rooms (Willem and Charles share a room), Willem motioned for me to take the room with one twin bed. Did he think I wouldn't have been able to figure out which room was mine? Um, let's see. This room has two beds and this other one has one. I wonder which one is mine?
The agenda today was too aggressive for me. I'm operating on too little sleep, and my leg muscles are not accustomed to so much work. First we went to the Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya, also known as the art museum that was miles away (walking) from our hotel. We went to a fortress that overlooks the harbor. With it's four huge cannons facing the sea, it was once used to protect the city from invasion. There are still guards posted by each one. In the early afternoon, we walked to a square that looked more like a circle where people were sitting in chairs relaxing and talking and watching the birds peck at the ground. Then, as we were walking back to our hotel, hundreds of chanting demonstrators dressed in bright, outlandish colors came out of nowhere and they completely filled the street. They were mostly young and their massive presence was shocking and intimidating and their angry outbursts scared me. But as fast as they arrived, they disappeared, and the streets were peaceful again.
When we arrived back at the hotel, the clerk asked how "our" day was but he directed his question to me. Willem does not like the clerk; I can tell. He moved between me and clerk and said, "It was a good day. Thanks."
The guys are out tonight, but I decided to stay in my room and write in my journal and hopefully get some sleep. I'll probably have the same dream I have every night. I knock on his door. He answers and sees me standing there, pathetic, apologetic, and crying, and then he says, "It's too late" and closes the door.
The agenda today was too aggressive for me. I'm operating on too little sleep, and my leg muscles are not accustomed to so much work. First we went to the Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya, also known as the art museum that was miles away (walking) from our hotel. We went to a fortress that overlooks the harbor. With it's four huge cannons facing the sea, it was once used to protect the city from invasion. There are still guards posted by each one. In the early afternoon, we walked to a square that looked more like a circle where people were sitting in chairs relaxing and talking and watching the birds peck at the ground. Then, as we were walking back to our hotel, hundreds of chanting demonstrators dressed in bright, outlandish colors came out of nowhere and they completely filled the street. They were mostly young and their massive presence was shocking and intimidating and their angry outbursts scared me. But as fast as they arrived, they disappeared, and the streets were peaceful again.
As fast as the demonstrators
arrived, they disappeared.
When we arrived back at the hotel, the clerk asked how "our" day was but he directed his question to me. Willem does not like the clerk; I can tell. He moved between me and clerk and said, "It was a good day. Thanks."
The guys are out tonight, but I decided to stay in my room and write in my journal and hopefully get some sleep. I'll probably have the same dream I have every night. I knock on his door. He answers and sees me standing there, pathetic, apologetic, and crying, and then he says, "It's too late" and closes the door.
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