I mentioned in my last entry that the Big Three Gaudi buildings were (are?) the Sagrada Familia, which I already discussed at length, the Casa Batllo, which unfortunately I was unable to get any pictures of as its exterior was undergoing massive reconstruction, and the Casa Mila. The House of Mila, so to speak. Ha - wonder if that was the name of Garak and Enabran Tain's house? Casa Mila.
I'm sure lots had been said on the subject by people much more qualified (and interested, I'm sorry to say) than myself, so I'll just say here that Casa Mila really stood out. It's located on one of those typical Barcelonan boulevards, one of those large, straight, sunny and spacey ones - rather aptly named Diagonal. There's another one called Parallel which was not too far away. Anyway, Casa Mila was located somewhere between the metro stations Diagonal (Green Line, L3) and Passeig de Gracia, which I think is a lovely name. Then again I think most of the street and metro stations in Barcelona have wonderful names. I mentioned this in a very early entry I wrote early this year or late last year. Drassanes, Catalunya, Ciutadella, La Rambla.
I didn't take the metro though, since I found that one of the buses next to the hostel went straight there, so I buckled down. As it turned out the bus took more than an hour to get there, which would have bored me under normal circumstances, but it was nice to see more of Barcelona's hot, dusty, straight roads. I realise this is not the most flattering of descriptions but that's how I felt about Barcelona. "Fair enough," I'll say when asked about how I liked Barcelona. "Overrated," I'll say when asked about Germany. Oh, but I loved Frankfurt, and I have a soft spot for some of the Bavarian towns - Nuremburg comes to mind. I loved Nuremburg for two reasons: the gorgeously quaint Christmassy town centre, and the fact that it was freezing and poured, and that I got to take a piping hot shower after being soaked chill to the skin. Strange sort of person I am; there are some sensations and experiences that I will never forget, and that is one of them. It's been almost a year and I can still feel Nurnberg's chill rainwater freezing me to the marrow, returning to that hotel/hostel and finding no one else in the room, getting into the ridiculously luxurious shower and turning the hot water on full pelt and gasping for joy and singing, even, as I washed, then coming out and settling down happily onto my lovely proper HOTEL BED.
I need to stop writing and postulating and get back there and do this again. If nothing else happens, I still have this.
I'm ashamed to say it but it's really been too long since continental #1 happened, and after that there was Romania, Gdansk, Copenhagen and continental #4, so I think I'll make this a picture entry. Casa Mila, though very picturesque, cost a staggering 16.5 euro to get in. No thanks. I'll just stand around outside like countless other tourists and take photos of the outer facade and call it a day. Actually, I could fleeting catch glimpses of the interior, and see tourists milling around in it, and... it didn't excite me that much, to be honest, so I have no regrets.
Next day. Headed down to Barceloneta sans #gang. I went to Barceloneta quite a lot as I remember, not so much because it was pretty - it wasn't, not particularly - but because it was the Mediterranean after all, and also because it was quite close to everything else - La Rambla, the city centre, the cathedrals and so forth. There was a Maritime museum located quite close to the sea, and this one was very much affordable - can't remember the exact cost but nothing over 5 euros, plus it included a visit to a skiff.
More pictures, and remember that this country was once the native land of the Invincible Armada, and that the Spaniards set sail and travelled halfway across the world four hundred years ago to colonise my ow country.
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