rebness: (Catalonia)
Oh hey, you know what´s so not a good mix? Iberian sun and pasty Celtic skin. Whee! However, I shall continue being slightly pained and sort of golden, because the novelty never wears off for a Brit. Never!

Anyway, today Catalonia, like England, celebrated St. George´s Day, or Sant Jordi as it´s known in these parts. I know that England shares its patron Saint with about 10,000 other countries and territories, but it still feels good to have some tenuous connection. However, whilst celebrations in England may extend to a flag waved from an SUV and an "En-ger-land" chant before a pint down the local pub, in Catalonia women get roses and men get books.

We´ll ignore the fact that men get the sweet end of the deal to wonder why on earth England doesn´t come up with some cool, non-violent tradition in this way. I mean, the Irish have a monopoly on drinks and parades for St. Paddy´s, so why not try the same as Catalonia and give something vaguely more romantic in that it came from a surly street vendor and not Hallmark? Just sayin´.

I did get a rose today, but it was from my manager. American Company That Owns My Soul likes to get in on the local traditions, and while it would be easy to criticise, I think that´s pretty sweet. And the rose had that gorgeous "I was plucked at my prime and shall now wilt dramatically" smell, so it was neat.

They also sell all kinds of cakes and stuff in the local patisseries all done up in the Catalan colours (strawberries for the red stripes, custard for the yellow), but I opted for Creme Catalan instead. It´s glorified Creme Brulee, but I don´t care, for that, too, was beyond awesome.
rebness: (Aidez)


I was going to wait until I had various Spanish pictures *cough[livejournal.com profile] jaffacakequeencough* to punctuate my ramblings about the Ramblas, but I'll start my multi-post now.

Unfortunately, the illness would not leave me alone, even for Spain. Hence, Penny and I were standing in Liverpool airport and the voices of the screaming children around us were muffled to me, thank God.

Check-in was delayed blah blah wine and catch-up blah blah gossip blah blah got on the aeroplane.

Now, England has been covered in near-permanent cloud since, like, June, so I wasn't hopeful of seeing much even at the window seat. All of the North was covered in thick cloud below, but it began to clear as we moved South.

At one point, I gazed out of the window to a massive, sprawling city of light beneath. Not Paris, but London. Dude, it was so pretty from above. Pity it's the opposite on the ground.

Across the English channel and over France. We all oohed and ahhed at a frankly massive fire blazing somewhere down in the North of France. "Pen," I screeched, "What if it's Paris?"

"You're nuts." Or near equivalent.

The flight went well, except for when the pilot landed too quickly and my sinuses made me feel like I was being stabbed repeatedly in the nose. The pain was terrible, but half of the passengers seemed to suffer the same thing, so hah.

Anyway, various airport boringness. Pen's umbrella was stolen by someone either in Liverpool or Barcelona. Got to the train desk, and I stammered out "A ticket to Barcelona, please" in pathetic Spanish.

Scary train signs that I couldn't read all that well, brief wondering if we were going to end up in France or something, and then we were on the Ramblas.

The Ramblas, dude: blazing light, a throng of people, hotels, shops, tree-lined streets and general excitement. Hello, I was in love.

But there were more pressing concerns-- such as finding the bloody hotel. Lots of stammered Spanish and shrugged shoulders. Found an Irish Bar (but of course) and got directions to the Theatre Liceu, which I knew to be opposite our digs.

Muy handsome Donnie Darko-esque hotelier. Scary hotel. Cheap, gaol-like, with a shared bathroom. Bah. Penny and I looked for some comedy Spanish television, but found little. Lots of boring newscasters, so we got ready and decided to hit the Ramblas...

rebness: (Scurf)


What a strange, happy day. So, I've finally learned me some Catalan for the Evil Hotel Owner, thanks to the lovely [livejournal.com profile] ozfille. We jet out on Monday and I have my Euros of Doom to spend on various Spanish-y goodness. Hurrah!

My last pay was messed up because (oh noes!!) I took one whole day off. This month, it's pretty substantial. I guess I'll be buying that FC Barca shirt after all. Ha!

Last night, I was given a chance to have The Last Word regarding some drama from a while back. It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I won't go into it too much, but honestly, I'm that argumentative that this was all I wanted. Am all gleeful and happy.

I was then subjected to CAPS on Yahoo Messenger from a certain someone, which had me nearly crying with laughter. I don't know why they crack me up so much, but that girl makes me laugh me head off. Nameless, you're a nutter, but I loves ya. :p

Then, to top it all off-- I got the first Christmas card of the season today, from Australia! [livejournal.com profile] kay2004, you rock.

Oh, and some kind soul has brought Cadbury's Yule Logs into the office. *Gazes up to heaven* Thank you.

Heehee.

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August 2013

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