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And Barcelona?
Her: you still haven't blogged about Barcelona. Me: Yes I have. Her: No, you blogged about booking the trip and traveling but nothing about your holiday. You have not even put pictures up yet, not even one of Chz' half obscured face. Me: that's because there isn't one, just one of him posing playboy fashion with his shades on, on the tiled benches in Park Guell . Her: Are you going to post it? Me: nah, I suspect payback would be more than I'd be willing to miss. So what did we do once we were there? We did what tourists do in Barcelona of course, we had a look at the Sagrada Familia and Casa Batllo , we walked around Park Guell and just because there's no such thing as too much Gaudi when in Barcelona we also had a look at Casa Mila . We walked up and down the Rambla and in the Barri Gotic quarter sampling food and drink along the way. We lazed on the beach and floated in the bath warm Mediterranean after the afternoon nap and before checking out that none of the bars use measures to pour drinks (cue the most loaded mojito I have ever drank). I found out that if I try and utter my choice of tipple in Catalan (melocoton zumo amb Havana club) I get extra special service from bar staff. I only dog freaked once. Considering the number of dogs being walked around at all times of the day and night I think it was good going. MFC only mocked a little about it (ok that's a lie, he thought it was hilarious). The food was great. There was pa amb tomaquet , salt cod, cured ham, cheese and cake for breakfast, sausages of all kinds, juicy tomatoes, watermelons, wonderfully scented flat peaches which taste of summer (why, oh why can't I find those in Tesco?), cake for breakfast, baby octopuses, ice cream (not sure about roquefort and walnut flavour though). I suspect I never want to find out how many calories were in the glasses of orxata I sipped. Would I go back? Sure. The only thing is before I go again I'd learn some Catalan, especially how to say "FFS are you going to serve me or what?" just so ice cream shop girls don't keep serving the locals first (it must be bad if I decide to walk out of the shop *without* ice cream rather than battle it).
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28.8.07 21:56 |
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And the Barcelona pictures are up too
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28.8.07 22:03 |
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Oi! you with the German Shepherd
Just some not so friendly advice on how to be less of a twunt when your dog takes you for its walkies (no way *you* were walking it). If I appear to be deliberately putting more space between me and your oncoming dog it's because I am. If I appear to be uncomfortable at the sight of your dog changing its travel path to trott towards me it's because I am. In that case the correct procedure is to retract the leash so you can control where the dog is going and steer him away from the uncomfortable looking pedestrian you are sharing the pavement with. By all means let the animal have a bit of freedom in the park, just not on the way there. If I appear to be petrified with fear when I am trapped between the railings of a building to one side and your dog sniffing me on the other it's because I AM PETRIFIED and my brain is desperately trying to figure out if I could slip between the railings or maybe scramble over them once it regains control of my limbs because my legs have decided I'm going nowhere. To you it's a loving pet, to me it's a powerful set of jaws garnished with teeth and the fact it comes wrapped up in fur doesn't' make it any less scary to me. You do not know me, a stranger does not have a right to question another individual's fears, just a duty to recognise them and act accordingly. Rant over.
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31.8.07 14:17 |
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