Camino: Santiago to Barcelona

We got up reasonably early to get our 7:15 a.m. taxi to the airport.  I realized that the taxi driver was retracing some of the same path we took a couple of days earlier when we walked into Santiago and past the runway end lights.  

 The Vueling flight to Barcelona was uneventful, except the weather report from the cockpit: about 18 degrees and heavy rain storms.  It sounds like the rains we had on the Camino have very slowly moved east, and are now settled above Barcelona.  

 Indeed, once we got off the airport bus at Plaza Catalunya, it was a very wet but short walk to the Hotel Colon, facing the Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia, or Barcelona cathedral.

Hotel Colón, Barcelona

The heavy rain argued against anything but a visit to the Cathedral, one of our favorites in any case.  It’s hard to beat the towering ceiling, the many chapels around the perimeter, the detailed carvings on the choir stalls, and the cloister with 13 white geese. Unfortunately, they’ve gone over to electric votive candles inside the cathedral, and the dour little lady right beside the door who sold candles for so many years is gone too. We lingered over chapels dedicated to the patron saint of lawyers, Ramon or Raymond, and Saint Rita, the patroness of lost causes.

Cathedral of Barcelona

It seemed time to search out some lunch, but it was really pouring down.  I broke down and bought a nine Euro umbrella in a shop, thankful that the shopkeeper did not try to extort some extravagant sum in these conditions.  We dropped into one of the first places we came to, Taller de Tapas, on La Rambla.  We were lucky to get a table, and enjoyed a Sobrasada (Majorcan sausage cured with paprika) tortilla and calamari in aioli.

Santa Maria del Mar

We wandered as far as Santa Maria del Mar Church, where we happened upon a Spanish society wedding.  The bride and groom were unknown to us, although he was movie-star handsome, but some of the guests were notable politicians.  I recognized Jordi Pujol among others.  Lots of very pretty young Spanish girls were there in their finest designer clothes, getting pretty wet in the rain outside the church door -- as rose petals were thrown and the newlyweds were driven away in an ancient cream-colored Rolls Royce.

Our first choice restaurant was “complete” for a Saturday night, so we accepted the hotel concierge’s suggestion of Neyras Restaurant nearby. (Marcia said she was “tired of tapas.”)  The presentation was elegant with beautiful table settings and dramatic lighting, and the service was Spanish “stylish,” meaning leisurly but elegant. I was quite happy with my lentils and anchovies salad and the long sought arroz negro.  But I have to agree with Marcia that the food was merely good, not outstanding. 

And while we enjoyed the pianist for the first hour, there was no call for a couple of flamenco dancers to arrive from somewhere south of Seville. I mean, we’re in Catalonia, for goodness sake.

P.S. Because of the rain, all these photos are courtesy of Flickr