Our Camino adventure

Part 1 - where we visit Barcelona, which is not on the Portuguese Camino

Many years ago, a friend of my "reason for living" did the French Camino. She raved about it. Linda became obsessed, and fifteen years later, here we are, organised up the wazoo to do the Portuguese. That was as much time as we had available. 12 to 13 days, plus a bit of sight-seeing on either end, was easier than the six or seven weeks required to do the French Camino alone. Plus, we have tired bones, and 264km sounded eminently more doable than 600 or 700km. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here.

So, I had decided to take my enforced 'batch leave' from the bus driving gig and spend that time planning the trip. I thought it would take me two weeks. In reality, it took around two days, with a few little tweaks here and there over the following month or so.

There are many many options for how you can do the camino. We were determined to make it as easy as we could, again, taking note of our tired bones, and lack of physical preparation. We were both either coming out of injury, or grappling with injury, so understandably we were both anxious about the whole adventure.

A few early ground rules:

• we would only stay in accommodation with a private bathroom

• we would not  stay in dormitories because I snore, and I'm a light sleeper, and Linda would be mortified if I was responsible for keeping everyone awake

• we would have our luggage transported, instead of carrying our worldly possessions. We persuaded ourselves that this was necessary (read mandatory) because we had a holiday in Barcelona and Madrid before starting the walk, and a holiday in London and Liverpool after we finished.

With this in mind, I opened up booking.com and got to work.

The one concession I made in planning was I used a travel agent to organise our flights, primarily because it's very difficult to organise a whole heap of disparate journeys from the comfort of your couch, especially when we we’re not doing a return trip to and from one location. We were recommended an agent in Nelson, and within a day I had all the flights booked and paid for. The only thing I did myself was booking the train from Barcelona to Madrid, and the train from London to Liverpool and return.

I had two weeks of no work between bus driving and heading off on our adventure and believe me, I needed every hour of every day to get ourselves sorted for our adventure. I also had an opportunity to do a few decent walks, plus a regular three or four kilometres each day which I figured would go some way to being in condition. Linda, on the other hand, was snowed at work, plus was courting a niggly knee injury, so her preparation, as she likes to remind me, was ZERO.

I'd arranged for house sitters to come and live at ours - to keep the house safe, and to take care of Dolly, our dog. We'd never done this before so I was very pedantic and focused on writing a House Manifesto for the sitters. It ran to nine pages, and before I left, and then a few days after we left, I was still adding things to the list of "What you need to know." Linda thought I was mad, but I'd been told by a friend who does a lot of house sitting that the more information, the better. I definitely erred on the more, and then some more, and maybe a little bit more of this, and a bit of that. I just knew that if I was the house-sitter I would have appreciated it.

We left Wellington on a Sunday morning - a cunning plan so that if there were cancellations or delays we'd have enough time up our sleeves to drive to Auckland and arrive in time for our 8.30 pm departure. See? Thinking ahead, always. Some might say 'overthinking'. 

Departure went swimmingly. We were in cattle class down the back of the humungous Emirates A380, parked up in the middle rows. 17 hours later, with some sleep onboard, we arrived in Dubai. A two hour wait, along with the most expensive coffee, tea, and sandwiches in the world, and we were back on another A380 (a bit further forward this time) for the seven and a half hour flight to Barcelona. 26.5 hours total. The joys of living at the other end of the world.

We dropped our bags at our hotel apartment and wandered into the old town, down the quaint passageways, where the shops occupied the lower levels and the locals lived in the upper levels. Well-pegged washing attempted to flutter in whatever breeze was available. Our location was perfect, almost equi-distant between Sagrada Familia and the old-quarter.

On our wandering, we spotted a great place to have dinner, convinced we'd be able to find it later, when we were ready to eat. That proved to be more difficult than we thought - much more difficult. 

Three hours of wandering around, backtracking, using every ounce of logic and memory, we finally found Casa Lolea, for the second time. Highly recommended traditional food. Such simple fare, but so delicious. Meats, bread rubbed with garlic and tomato. It sounds basic, and it is, but it's made so perfectly and with quality ingredients that it feels much more complex.

We managed to stay up until 9.30 pm before collapsing into bed, exhausted but happy. Our first half-day in Spain was complete.

It's impossible to rock up to a tourist destination in Europe and expect to get a ticket, so this was something else I had organised from back home. Tickets to Sagrada Familia, and tickets to the Gaudi house, Casa Batlo. The cost of entry is eyewatering. I think Sagrada Familia, with a hike up one of the towers, cost us $300NZD. But would we have missed it? Hell no.

All galleries, museums, and a lot of churches, they all cost money. The fact that there is an uproar over a visitor tax being imposed on visitors to New Zealand is laughable. I say, charge them to come into the country, and then charge them to go to Te Papa, and other places. Tourists, or at least those from Europe, expect to pay.

We did the Picasso Museum (with a guide), the Sagrada Familia (with audio guide) and Casa Batlló (with audio guide). They were all worth the money.

I HATE the word 'awesome'. It's overused, for things that simply aren't awe-some. It's overused and has become meaningless, until, that is, when you walk into Sagrada Familia. It is truly awe inspring. I'm simply not going to be able to express how awe-inspiring it is. On top of that to think that it was started at the end of the nineteenth century and yet it is so revolutionary and lightyears ahead of its time. Photos do not do it justice, although I have tried. You be the judge. 

The sheer scale of this cathedral overcomes you - from the outside, it's impossible to fit it all in a frame. On the inside, you simply need to stand in that church and let it flow over you while you jostle for position with the hundreds of other tourists swarming through that cathedral. 

The funniest thing of the day (I don't have a photo) is a roped off area for devotees to spend some quiet reflective time, while the throngs, nay hoards, of tourists swarm past them gabbing about how awesome it is. I confess, I was one of the gabbers. Sagrada Familia is stupendously awesome.

If you get the opportunity to visit, go in the late afternoon when the sun is lower in the sky. The play of light through the stained glass is magical. And the museum under the church is a must see too. Basically, stay there until you can see no more.

There are many other Gaudi monuments in Barcelona. We decided to go to Casa Batlló, a house he designed for a wealthy business man and his family. It's like Sagrada Familia but on a much smaller scale with a lot more wood - beautifully carved wood that curls through that house like an overgrown vine. The house uses neuro-diverse people as guides and gatekeepers. I only mention this because we arrived early (only by a few minutes) and we were made to wait until exactly 10.30 am, our allotted time, before we could pass beyond the velvet rope. I love  that attention to detail and time keeping. I wanted to give the guy a high-five.

Casa Batlló is another must see - a much more intimate experience of Gaudi - his design, his craftmanship, and his vision.

I'm not giving anything away by telling you that Gaudi died after being run over by a trolley bus. He was 74 years old. The Sagrada Familia, which he took over the design of at the age of 31, is still being built. 150 years and counting. Apparently, they are nearly finished.

Other things of note - the Palau De La Música Catalana was a stunningly beautiful music hall. We booked online only a few hours before we rocked up. No need for a guide - just use the app, accessed via a QR Code. I would have loved to see a concert there.

On Day Three, we decided to take one of those double decker tourist buses and do a sweep around Barcelona to get our bearings, and to leap off when we saw something interesting. We drove past Park Güell - we had visited this garden in the pouring rain the day before. There are more Gaudi designs here, and on a better day we would have appreciated it more.

We hopped off at Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya. Apart from being the best place to people watch, it also housed an amazing collection of Spanish art - too much to appreciate in a few hours. 

I could go on, but I won't. If you're still awake and paying attention, we found Barcelona friendly and welcoming. The food is to die for. You can get by without knowing any Spanish or Catalan (I'm ashamed to admit it) - it's an easy place to visit.

Madrid on the other hand…that's a different story.

All photos are by me. I typed this post on my phone. It took forever. Please excuse typos, and apologies for the lack of titles on the photos. There are many things you can do on a laptop that simply cannot be done on a phone, especially on an Android.