Hola Readers!

Somewhere in my ancient roots there must be a touch of Spanish blood as Barcelona touched my soul in many ways. Sounds corny I know, but I can't find other words to explain it. We landed in Girona on a Sunday morning, 10 minutes before the scheduled arrival time, picked up our suitcases, purchased bus tickets into the city and found our seats all with 30 minutes. Ryan Air delivered on their promise again.

The drive to Barcelona was dotted with ancient stone ruins, aquaducts, vineyards, green rolling hills and fields, with the odd country villa where only the rich and famous could reside.

On arriving at Station Nord bus and train depot we had our first real experience with a foreign language. Signs and ticket machines were bi or tri-lingual, Spanish, Catalan and sometimes French. We punched the button that said Placa de Catalanya and boldly fed in Euro coins until tickets came out. Faced with a choice of 2 platforms we stopped a nice young couple to ask for directions. After much animated discussion on which was the right way to go the young man points us towards a tunnel leading to a platform where the machine kept spitting our tickets back out at us. At seeing our obvious confusion, a good Samaratin stopped and with sign language and limited English explained we were on the wrong platform for the ticket we had purchased. Back we go to our starting point and 10 minutes later we boarded the train for Placa de Catalanya stop.

A short ride later we disembark only to discover a maze of exits, none of which indicate the way to Las Ramblas. As panic starts to set in we notice a staffed information booth, so off we go, suitcases in hand. To our dismay none of the attendants spoke English, so with sign language and broken high school French we asked for directions. In response to our gestures and fractured French one gentleman emphatically pointed straight ahead. As I start out in what I think is the right direction he bangs on the glass and waves his arm up and down, pointing again. Don then starts off towards a turnstile, which brings on more banging on the glass. We return to the booth and again, with gestures and questioning looks, ask him to repeat the directions. He now points downward, where to our surprise we see there is a gate attached to the booth.. we point to it....he smiles and nods.....we sheepishly open the gate and proceed down the obvious exit...to our enjoyment all 3 attendants stand up and smiling broadly, give us a rousing round of applause. Nice folks.

A short walk later and we find our daughter leaning up against a building waiting for us. She greets us with a hearty "welcome to Barcelona, I see you made it".

Our apartment was located at #6 Calle Portaferrissa, which literally means "the street of the iron gate". The mouth of the street is the entrance to the old city, holding a great iron gate. The dark narrow streets house an accumulation of shops, restaurants and bars.

Sleep came quickly the first night and we woke Monday morning to the sounds of roosters crowing, monkeys screeching and shopkeepers rolling up their doors to open for business. Overnight a nasty head cold settled in and cramped my style for the next 2 days, but hey, you might as well be sick in an exotic location, right? On Monday morning I did make it as far as the La Boqueria market to pick up sausage, fruit, cheese and bread but had to head back to our apartment and a nap. The next 2 days were spent reading, sleeping and popping cold tablets. By Wednesday I felt almost human and ventured down the 89 stone steps into the world.

My list of MUST SEE sights include the Sagrada Familia, La Pedrera and Casa Battlo designed by Antonio Gaudi, the Barri Gotic medieval ruins from the 14th and 15th century, the Barcelona Cathedral, Roman Ruins and Las Ramblas. 4 days is not long enough to even scratch the surface of what Barcelona has to offer. My list of things I will do next time (see I'm already committed to returning) include the various museums, Parc Guell, the waterfront, Aquarium and Montjuic park.

One thing I did get my fill of is Paella, had it for 3 meals and surprisingly the one I liked best was a seafood concoction described as "Black, with squid ink". I felt very brave trying it.

A Whirl-Whind Whorld Tour

The grand tour began on April 23, 2007 aboard the Emerald Princess. Twelve days of unprecedented luxury including gourmet meals, maid service, first class entertainment and the most beautiful scenery imaginable.We kicked off the cruise in Venice. We arrived in Trevisio airport around noon April 23rd and took the shuttle to the Port. The ship remained in port overnight and departed the afternoon of April 24th. This allowed just enough time to experience St. Mark's square, walk the side streets to see the quaint shops and cafes and to get our fill of pigeons, also known as rats with wings. I'd actually thought of doing some shopping but after looking at the cute little handbags with their 700 Euro price tags I decided to pass. With the Euro at approximately $1.50 Canadian, it was too rich for my taste.


While this is my 3rd cruise, it was undoubtedly the best by far. The weather being the main factor, closely followed by fabulous shore excursions to the walled city of Dubrovnik, Croatia.



Athens Greece was a last minute excursion addition, and one that turned out to be the most enjoyable. Our tour guide was informative, and enthusiastic about her country, sort of reminded me of the Papa in My Big Fat Greek Wedding. She knew her stuff and was generous in her praise and support for all things Greek

A full day was spent on the Island of Santorini. Being afraid of heights BIG TIME, the Santorini bus ride to the top of the island was a real nail-biter. I actually pointed the camera out the window and snapped photos without looking, and miracle of all miracles, some of them are not half bad.
Santorini from the sea, appears to be a snow capped mountain range. As we came closer it was evident that the snow was a multitude of white washed box shaped houses. Flat roofs allow for the collection of rainwater, which drains down into underground cisterns where it is stored for the dry months. Rain is scarce on Santorini and the grape vines have adapted by growing close to the ground in the form of small circular shrubs, not much more than 12 inches in height. A strange sight compared to our Okanagan Vines in British Columbia. The tour included a stop at 'Santo Wines' for a tasting session and nibbles....yummy.

Mykonos, an Island Paradise with turquoise water, white sand beaches and narrow cobblestone streets seeping up into the hillsides.

The next-to-final stop was Naples where we climbed aboard a bus to tour the ruins of Pompeii.On the way we stopped at a cameo factory where the craftsmen / crafters if you want to be politically correct,explained how they carve seashells to make beautiful cameos and ornaments.

While very interesting, I was more taken with the Bougainvillea growing down the wall adjacent to the parking lot. The vibrant colors and tissue like petals were impossible to resist, resulting in taking way too many pictures.


As a child growing up in the prairie hamlet of Hayseed Sask. I could only dream of far-away places, islands in the sun peppered with flat roofed white boxlike houses, and ruins of cities like Pompeii that thrived 2000 years before Christ.

Imagine my surprise when I found out they had indoor plumbing, which I never had until I went away to the big city to attend University in 1963.

Somehow in my pre-trip imagination, I would walk the ancient streets carefree, arthritis free, and pain free. Not So, while young at heart the old body found it a struggle to achieve what my heart desired. Even with frequent rest stops and all the wishful thinking I could muster, I found myself unable to keep up for more than 1/2 a day. After that it was back to the "Swimming Hotel" as our ship was called in Kusadasi, Turkey, for a tall cool drink and a nice long nap.

We disembarked in Rome, checked into our hotel and were thrilled to discover the corner of the Roman Walled City was a mere 2 blocks away. We followed the wall for an hour or so, then hunger called so we backtracked to the hotel. Our hotel clerk recommended a family run restaurant close by for dinner, so off we went. Dinner was interesting as the meat was cooked on a grate over the fireplace at the front of the restaurant, and starters were a "serve yourself" array of wonderful olives, marinated artichokes, asparagus, mussels, calamari, cheeses, and much much more. I could easily have made a meal of it. To end our meal we had Gelato and coffee. As we prepared to leave the owner came over and insisted we have a drink before going, on the house, so who are we to refuse such a gracious offer.

It was fully dark when we left, full and happy. A good night's sleep later it Sunday morning and we were up early for a buffet breakfast on the rooftop terrace then off on a 2 hour walking tour of the walled city of Rome.


In case you are wondering, of course I tossed a coin in the Trevi Fountain - but so far have not won the big lotto prize.

Our tour ended by rejoining our bus for a trip to Vatican city and the crowd-crush in St. Peter's Square for the Pope's Sunday Blessing. Not being Catholic didn't deter us from enjoying the experience of being surrounded by thousands of people from all around the world here for the experience of a lifetime.

Next Stop, and next post, Barcelona