Yes, I saw the fountains at Montjuic- the magic fountains, or whatever. They were camp, and wet. Nothing better huh? First of all, I trekked right to the top, part escalator, part stone steps. My crossfit training meant I glided up them, effortlessly.
Some delicious tapas proceeded these hilltop shenanigans. This was at the cute, cartoon-menu’d Casa de Tapes. I was even eating outside with the heaters on, you wouldn’t do that in England. Oh yes, it’s cold (ish) at night, but not to grumble, however I should have packed my leather jacket. I would have looked nicely Spanish, and would had been warm.
Once I’d retired to my room, I took my eBay Melatonin and, ironically, took a while to drop off. Then proceeded to have the oddest nights sleep ever, which included sleep paralysis (I think), or at least a dream about it. I decided in my mind that the hotel is haunted.
I choose to buy the buffet breakfast in the hotel today, 14 euro or so, except all I ate was Spanish tortilla, bread and ham. Now I know those components are pretty cheap, so I think I’ve been had! Or maybe I should be more of a pig and leave the hotel each day with croissants dangling from my cargo shorts.
I felt botanical today, so my inner gardener took me up the hills to the Jardin Botanico. I seemed to be the only visitor though, in the whole garden. Mind you, it was only 10am. Although horticulturists usually get up early, right?! I loved wandering through the gardens, and will put photos up onto my usual social media spots ASAP!
Amazingly, the garden had wifi, where were the routers, I wondered? In the Grevillea??! Anyway, I took the opportunity of this connection to bolster my ‘gardening is sexy’ hashtag on Instagram.
I then wandered to the Castell Montjuic, as I really couldn’t remember if I had been before. I had.
One of the only ways to get down from this mountainous site (other than putting undue pressure on the knees!) is by cable car! Ooh, exotic. It felt right exciting/exhilarating. Although I kept my cool in front of the stylish French couple sharing my cab, who seemed to have just got engaged.
I traversed the streets back to my hotel, and found a cute little street-side cafe called Tonka, or Wonka, or similar. I had a sausage, cheese AND honey sandwich, and made myself sick by drinking too much Vichy. My English stomach can’t take the salt. There was a rather raucous table to my right, where they must have been celebrating a day of the week or something, with flailing arms every time another person arrived to said table.
In the later afternoon, I put my luminous shorts on and went to sunbathe on the roof terrace, oh once I’d bought some Factor 15 from the chemist, in my word perfect sparrow Spanish! I’m now being an executive in reception, and organising my next few nights of accommodation, booking CINEMA tickets and an exclusive (or not) visit to the Pedrera. I am almost Spanish.