Edd's Travels: Barcelona, Spain

In the whole of my first month in Spain, I have not so much as looked at a McDonalds or a Starbucks or a Subway or anything else of the kind. I've even walked straight past four separate Taco Bells. And I'm feeling smugly proud of myself as a result. Having said that, it's hardly a temptation where Starbucks is concerned. It amazes me how they get away with charging three euros or more for generic coffee, in a country where you can get something twice as good for half the price pretty much anywhere you look. A quick peek inside any Starbucks reveals why: they're always full of shy tourists who just want to stick to what they know. Nothing wrong with that, of course. But if you just want to stick to what you know, then why bother leaving home at all? Just for the selfies?

I booked my tickets in and out of Barcelona some time ago. Only after I was committed to these specific dates did I realise that I'd be here during the annual Carnival, as well as the World Mobile Congress (it's a thing). The penny dropped when I searched online for sensibly-priced hotel rooms and what did I find? Absolutely diddly-squat. By good fortune I managed to secure what I think was the last available hostel bunk in town.

When I arrived, the Carnival was already in full swing and indeed my hostel was full to the brim of nutty youngsters, all on a mission to drink their body weight in alcohol and then vomit themselves inside out. Unpacking my stuff amid the tumult, I felt like Lady Macbeth: "Methought I heard a voice cry, 'Sleep no more!'" And indeed my sleeping here has been somewhat punctuated, to say the least, although nobody has actually vomited over me just yet. There's an English lad on reception, a weedy little posh white boy of about twenty, who uses Australian-style rising intonation at the end of every single sentence and addresses me as 'bro'.

Barcelona is, I regret to say, my least favourite of all the places I've visited so far on this trip. It's just too intensely tourist-oriented for my liking. Strolling along the Ramblas, even in February, every single person around me was either a tourist or someone actively trying to sell stuff to tourists. It didn't feel like travelling. It didn't even feel like being on holiday. It just felt like being stuck in an airport. And I can't say I'm a fan of Gaudi's Sagrada Familia cathedral. It's undoubtedly spectacular and unique; I just don't think it's all that pleasing to the eye. The way the sunlight plays around the interior is spectacular, but the achievement there is technical rather than artistic. Gaudi's other works around the city (see pictures) struck me in the same way. They're interesting, but the novelty soon fades.

Some might say I'm being an iconoclastic contrarian. Most people would say I'm just being a grumpy old git.

The one concrete triumph of my time here was a trip to the Nou Camp - not for a stadium tour, but for a proper La Liga match. Barcelona 6 (six) Sporting Gijón 1. Lionel Messi, who may yet go down in history as the greatest ever to play the game, scored the opening goal. It was worth coming to Barcelona just to see the match, and I didn't need selfies to commemorate it. See pictures. I promise not to mention football again for at least the next month or so.

Half-time at the Nou Camp.
My seat was level with the halfway line in the very top tier.
I didn't have my glasses with me...it's a good job footballers have distinctive hairstyles.