I am from Barthelona

Our visit to Barcelona started in a fashion that would make Manuel from Fawlty Towers proud (which is where the quote “I am from Barthelona” comes from).

The train that should have got us there at 7:30 pulled in at 8:30 which made for a long 9.5 hour train ride. Normally an hour wouldn’t bother me too much except it happened to mean I would miss the final, title-deciding race of the Formula 1 season. Now I am cranky!

Then, once we get in, it is getting late at night in a big city at night with luggage. Rather than brave the Metro, we decided a cab would be the way to go. After waiting one hour for a cab, the useless twit we received didn’t know our hotel and didn’t know the street and couldn’t look it up! It wasn’t until I phoned the hotel myself that he knew where to go.

Then when we get there, the moron asked for 2 euros for “bags” that I loaded and unloaded myself. Oh if only I were a lot more fluent in Spanish, this guy would have received a tirade. Instead it was a case of take the money and bugger off.

Not a good start to Barcelona. Not a good start at all.