I managed 3 hours sleep. Roger claimed zero hours. Great, an insomniac, perfect drinking buddy.

Ok so we get to Stansted Airport. There’s a 30 minute delay. “We are just popping over to Monpellier to drop off some tools, then we’ll be back in the air and onto Reus” says the captain as the doors shut. Great. Isn’t that lovely, I’m assuming more than hammers and screwdrivers were being dropped off. We had a bus to catch in Catalona to get to Barca. I must say Monpellier from the air at 9.00 am in February is quite bizarre. It like a mass of swamps and beaches with pyramid buildings and weird lines in the water. Don’t ask.

After the short detour, we continued, over the Pyrenees, which were snow-capped and magnificant

The Mountain between France & Spain

We landed in the tiniest airport ever. It had one luggage conveyer and passport port control box. Looking around we saw the bus office and bought the 11 euro ticket to Barca.

The bus stank of vomit, but the driver was chirpy enough. On to Barca!!!!
Being back in Spain after a 2 ½ year absence felt good. There is something nice about the country. Maybe it’s the ties I have built up over the years living there in the province of Malaga. But there is a certain familiarity about the country now.
We arrived at Estacio de Sants just after midday. We got off the bus and thought, “Hmm, where to now?” We decided to follow a bunch of other people off the bus into the station. They seemed to vanish into thin air. Ok then, so we are standing there, brains empty and expressions blank.
“Let’s walk to the hotel” said Roger.
“Sounds good” I quickly replied putting no thought into the fact that we may be miles away let alone the thought that we have to navigate the countless boulevards, alleys and streets of Barcelona.
I pulled out my 20 pence "Time Out" Guide to Barcelona
book and we checked the map. Off we went on our merry way. In fact though the walk was some distance considering the conditions we didn’t get lost. Finally we reached the magnificent “Las Ramblas”. It was here that Roger told me that he wasn’t going to stop to look at the human statues because he read on some website that the thieves prey on mesmerised people. I told him that wouldn’t be possible and stop being silly. Now, I had booked a hotel called “The Hotel Barbara”. So we need to look for Calle Marques de Barbera. That’s the street it’s down on our left off Ramblas. It looked a nice place on the website. Found it from www.hostelz.com. We had a look at the hostels, but many didn’t get great reviews. For a bit extra we went for this place, which was located central and had private bathroom. Also read on its review about it being in between Barrio Gotico and the red light district. Didn’t pay much attention to that, been though Soho thousands of times, nothing we haven’t seen before!

Ok, so we realise we’ve missed the turning and decide to go down ‘Nou de la Rambla’ from which I can see we can do a U-turn onto Calle Marques de Barbera. We arrive to the expected road. Great, now where is the hotel? As we pass through a small plaza, we approach a gathering of tarted up young women. Their sluttish dress sense alerts us to the fact that they are indeed sluts. Of the variety I call prostitutes. We continue down a narrow street and see that we have passed number 22. The street has actually merged onto another street. Does that mean we need to turn back and walk into that open air brothel? I wasn’t fancying that. I spot 3 girls with luggage who look British.
“Excuse me. Are you looking for Hotel Barbara?” I ask.
“Yes, but we can’t find it. Have you seen down that street”? one of the girls asked pointing over to a alley way opposite the plaza. I said I’d seen some working girls hanging about. Then while checking this alley I only spot the Hotel Barbara.
“Oh my god, what a location”.
We all make our way to the hotel and on passing the alley I make a quick inconspicuous glance toward the alley and the full force of the prostitution becomes apparent. Blimy Charlie!! There’s at least 30 whores gathered in a street not more than 100 metres long. On to the hotel, and inside. It was a slight shock to see so many women at 1.00pm selling themselves. I mean in Soho the girls stay up in their flats. I suppose here the girls whip off your pants and you get to it on the plaza bench with Pedro and his mates looking on.
Road to controversial glory

This is Calle Marques de Barbera, leading to Barcelona's infamous ladies

Well at least the hotel had secure front door locking. We got our keys and went up to the 4th floor. The room was an internal room unfortunately which meant that its window overlooked an internal courtyard about 5 metres sq. Not too worry we weren’t here for the hotel view but 4 days of seeing Barcelona.
A moments rest and we decided to explore. On leaving the hotel we handed our key in to reception as they recommend. We now noticed nearly as many old Spanish men hanging about the plaza just staring down the infamous alley on your way to Ramblas. Amazing. That afternoon consisted of a relaxing stroll up the Ramblas and into Barrio Gotico. We were fairly knackered after all the excitement. Ok, we need fuel.
“I haven’t got the energy to find a restaurant Roger. Shall we just get some fast food today until we unwind a little.”
“Good idea” said Roger. Sad thing is that for most of the time in Barca we never had much energy and our choice of restaurants was poor.
In Spain they still smoke in restaurants. Whether they can or not, they do. Burger King was full of it. I think we felt worse than when we went in.