Rugby League, Reunions And Ruins
Despite many attempts to get up and out the door at a reasonable hour, we have unwittingly made the shift to Spanish time and, much to Ross’ frustration, can’t seem to get mobilised until mid-morning (but we are well and truly making up for it at the end of the day!)
It was Origin day today and finding somewhere to watch it was high on our agenda. Sam did all the necessary research and pinpointed a pub in the city that was advertising meat pies, Coopers beer and a prime spot on the couch to witness ‘state against state; mate against mate’. We were pumped. Firstly though, Molly had some pants to exchange so a quick trip to the shops was scheduled in before the big game.
In preparation for a trip Ross was making to the USA last year, in the dead of their winter, where he was planning to do a bit of hiking, he made a monumental purchase of some big, (‘big’ being the operative word) brown hiking boots. With supreme cushioning and suspension rivalling the latest Grand Cherokee Jeep, donning this footwear is akin to walking on pillows, Ross assures us. His feet love him for it. It’s for this precise reason that they have become his daily choice in footwear here in Europe, despite the soaring temperatures and the fact that really, they do look a little bit silly with boardies. Every morning when he comes out we have a bit of a sledge about his footwear and it’s been an ongoing joke with the kids asking: “are you planning on doing some hiking today Dad?” Today in the department store, we were looking for the shoe section and Ross, using mime to break through the international language barrier, pointed to his shoes and raised his eyebrows. The shop assistant pointed up the escalator and we joked that we were heading to the hiking boot department. Ross stressed that until we ourselves have experienced the extreme comfort of the said boots, we are in no position to pass judgement and don’t have a leg to stand on (excuse the pun). We have vowed to remain forever more tight-lipped about the boots. That’s the last I’ll say on the matter.
When away from home, our ears seem to tune in, radar-like, to an Australian accent within about a 1km radius. My ears pricked up when I heard one in the department store and I made the innocent enquiry, “are you from Australia?” Though Graham from Bendigo – who’d had a hip replacement 5 weeks earlier and was here for his cousin’s wedding and was doing well on his crutches and who had 2 daughters and who had 5 grandchildren and who didn’t like Madrid much but loved Ibiza – was a really great bloke, he talked non-stop for almost half an hour! Being a Victorian, he obviously didn’t share our enthusiasm for the state of origin but the game was due to start in about 5 minutes! We extricated ourselves from the conversation as politely as possible, farewelled Bendigo Graham & made a dash for the pub. Toby had gone ahead and sent out a mayday call when he discovered the apology out the front saying they’d no longer be showing the game. A small group of Aussies had gathered at the door, looking equally as dismayed as we were. We shared an instant camaraderie (even though some were maroon supporters) as we made a single-file dash up La Rambla to an alternate location. Just like ants come from nowhere to devour a pile of spilt sugar, Aussies had come out of the woodwork for the game. It seemed that every Australian in Barcelona (bar Graham!) had be drawn out of hiding and was at this pub. Molly and Maisy, who aren’t huge rugby league fans, headed across town to the MACBA – Barcelona Museum of Contemporary Art and Maria, our exchange student, met us at the pub.
The staff had been caught off guard by the unexpected big crowd that had gathered, ordering beers at what was really still Barcelona’s breakfast time. They were so understaffed! Downstairs was dominated by Blues supporters, with only a small (but vocal!) contingent from the sunshine state. Upstairs was full of Queenslanders. Maria was the only non-Aussie in the place! The Manager on duty, seeing all the mobile phones sitting out on the bar, mentioned that people should really be careful of pickpockets and work harder at concealing their valuables. Ross said: “Yeah, you can’t trust these Queenslanders as far as you can throw them”, causing the crowd to erupt with raucous laughter and the Manager left scratching his head, not sure what was going on.
Our one try got us all on our feet, cheering and shouting. There was a guy from Newcastle who was so funny, yelling at the top of his lungs: “Go you good thing!” Maria commented that he had a very “thick” Australian accent! He was hilarious! The Queenslanders got smugger and louder as the scoreboard went pear-shaped and as we all know, the game didn’t end well; so disappointing.
I had given Molly my travel card which I’d loaded up with euros, so she could pay for entry into the Museum. Unfortunately I had lost track of how many euros were actually on it and when Molly went to pay, there was no money left at all! She and Maisy had to walk the half hour back in the heat of the day to get some more money and to top it all off, a bird pooped all over her on the walk back! Sam had arranged to hang out with a friend from uni and Toby was meeting his friends at the beach so Ross, Maria and I met the girls for lunch after the game and then decided we’d head up the mountain to historic Montjuïc Castle.
By now, the mercury had peaked at 36 degrees but it felt a WHOLE lot hotter. If only we’d brought our towels, we could’ve stripped off and enjoyed a sauna in the train. As it was, we were quite sodden by the time we alighted (sorry, too much information?). In an act of extreme chivalry, in the extreme heat, Ross kindly offered to carry some suitcases up the stairs for some very appreciative women. There is a cable car -‘telefèric’- that carries passengers up to the castle, giving those onboard an incredible, 360 degree, panoramic view of the city. The Sagrada Familia is so prominent in the landscape, standing tall amongst the low rise unit blocks. We appreciated afresh what a masterpiece it is. This bird’s eye vantage point gave us an incredible look at the port, beach and city, much more condensed and tightly packed than Sydney. The 17th century hilltop fortress and former prison, Montjuïc Castle was great to wander through and from atop the turret the view was even more spectacular, the sea and sky merging together so it was hard to see where one ended and the other began.
Late this afternoon we had arranged to meet with Maria’s family and a work colleague of Maria’s dad, Montse, who had been instrumental in getting Toby in touch with Maria’s family for his exchange, for some more sightseeing. Also the sister of Eva, a good friend of ours in Sydney, Montse had travelled down from her village especially to see us! Our tailor-made tour took us to the Palace Of Catalan Music, a gorgeous 19th century piece of architecture with columns covered in vibrant colourful mosaic tiles and onto the church of Santa Maria Del Mar, built in the early 1300s! Walking into this church, thinking people had trodden these stones for over 600 years, was mind-blowing! Its massively high ceilings and huge stained glass windows stretching from floor to roof made it quite awe inspiring to view. Our tour also took us to Born, where a shopping centre excavation a few years back had uncovered a city beneath! The ruins of fifty homes, where approximately 1000 homes had existed 300 years previously, were discovered in the subsoil of the marketplace and have now been preserved as a heritage site. Wow. Imagine that, doing a bit of casual digging in your backyard and stumbling upon a city buried below! Dial before you dig alright.
We snaked around pretty, narrow streets, pounding the cobblestones and admiring the history and beauty of the city before going to dinner with Maria’s family for a feast unrivalled by any meal we’ve indulged in so far. The menu was entirely in Catalan so we were at the mercy of the locals when it came to ordering…and order they did! What a spread! A seafood plate that could’ve been a David Attenborough documentary, laden with sea creatures large and small, was placed before us. There were dishes of meat piled high, mountainous plates of salad and bountiful baskets of bread. It was fantastic! When the clock ticked dangerously close to turning-back-into-pumpkins time, we farewelled Maria and her beautiful family, vowing we’d see them again someday.
What a great day!
