04 August, 2007 (Saturday) Barcelona, Spain
Another day in Spain - bring on the tapas, sangria and sun!
Barcelona beach
If I had to confess to the thing I missed most about home then I´d probably have to say the beach. It´s been over a year since I last jumped into the ocean (see Tofino, hot springs tour - sharp rocks and freezing ocean), over 20-months since I have been on a beach. See - I´m still counting.
With the sun shining at a good 30+ degrees, it was fine beaching weather. We wandered amongst the laundry decorated streets of Barcelonetta to break out onto the promenade looking out across the Mediterranean. Bodies littered the beach baking and erasing tanlines. The beach itself was not the golden yellow of sand, but a light brown colour. Walking closer we found the beach to be coarse brown dirt. Waves were tame, a tiny shore break crashing in regularly. It didn´t take a heart-beat for us to shed layers and start splashing in.
The slow roll of the waves and salty brine on my lips awoke dormant memories of home. While there weren´t any waves worthy of name to ride to shore, it was a relief to be in the sea again. It felt just as good to drip dry, although the novelty of sitting on gritty dirt was short-lived. Once we´d soaked up some of the Barcelona sun we wandered the promenade for something to eat. Tapas and sangria were on offer, and provided a pleasant light afternoon repast.
Each beach is different, and Barcelona has a character all of its own. Open-air restaurants, fresh sea food and a jug of sangria? I think I might sign up for more of that...
Hosteling
Hostel life is so transitory. New people every day, old ones disappearing just as you´re starting to build rapport. A range of nationalities. A range of traveling types. Stability is knowing that you´ve got a bunk to sleep in each night. Nationalities stick more than names. Let´s guess ages...
Barcelona beach
If I had to confess to the thing I missed most about home then I´d probably have to say the beach. It´s been over a year since I last jumped into the ocean (see Tofino, hot springs tour - sharp rocks and freezing ocean), over 20-months since I have been on a beach. See - I´m still counting.
With the sun shining at a good 30+ degrees, it was fine beaching weather. We wandered amongst the laundry decorated streets of Barcelonetta to break out onto the promenade looking out across the Mediterranean. Bodies littered the beach baking and erasing tanlines. The beach itself was not the golden yellow of sand, but a light brown colour. Walking closer we found the beach to be coarse brown dirt. Waves were tame, a tiny shore break crashing in regularly. It didn´t take a heart-beat for us to shed layers and start splashing in.
The slow roll of the waves and salty brine on my lips awoke dormant memories of home. While there weren´t any waves worthy of name to ride to shore, it was a relief to be in the sea again. It felt just as good to drip dry, although the novelty of sitting on gritty dirt was short-lived. Once we´d soaked up some of the Barcelona sun we wandered the promenade for something to eat. Tapas and sangria were on offer, and provided a pleasant light afternoon repast.
Each beach is different, and Barcelona has a character all of its own. Open-air restaurants, fresh sea food and a jug of sangria? I think I might sign up for more of that...
Hosteling
Hostel life is so transitory. New people every day, old ones disappearing just as you´re starting to build rapport. A range of nationalities. A range of traveling types. Stability is knowing that you´ve got a bunk to sleep in each night. Nationalities stick more than names. Let´s guess ages...
posted by the wastrel @ 1:59 AM
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