It was my first couples holiday with Michelle and at the tender age of 29, my first ever couples holiday.
The fun started at the line for immigration desk at Barcelona’s airport, El Prat. Three flights had just landed and there were only three members of staff behind the desks trying to process us all. You start to switch off after a while from following the same winding path in front of you. There was a brief period of drama to break up the monotony when a passenger from our flight outside of the line started shouting at his female traveling companion (presumed to be his wife/girlfriend and their assumed child) and then started throwing bags at them. This obviously meant some of the few security officers by the immigration desks had to get involved leaving only one to work through the increasing number of passengers. In the long run it wasn’t worth the added excitement to the experience. When we finally made it through and found out Uber was not present that late at night we caught an over priced taxi to our hotel about ten minutes from the airport and called it a night.
Hotel SB plaza Europa was a far cry from the hostels I’m used to slumming it in. It wasn’t the largest room in the world but was clean and comfortable, had a kettle with mugs and an array of tea and coffee, the best shower I can remember using in recent years and a sink and vanity unit in the main section of the room rather than in the bathroom. I had never seen that before. We opted for a room with a balcony which was the biggest one on our floor, which appeared to be completely empty apart from us. As the hotel was outside the centre of the city there wasn’t that much to look at but it was nice to have our own outside space. The hotel also came with parking (which we didn’t use), an onsite restaurant (which we didn’t use), a gym (which I wanted to use but never did), a rooftop swimming pool (which I used once just so it being there didn’t go to waste), a rooftop bar (which we used most nights, and a library that was designed by the Instagram gods. I would definitely stay there again.
Day 1
The first morning we opted to walk into the city centre and make the most of the glorious weather rather than take the metro which was only a few stops, a change and then a few more stops. We could use that when we were tired. Little did we know at the time how far we had to go. We walked passed several relics from the 1992 Summer Olympic Games, many of which are still used to this day which is rare for host cities, a public climbing wall built around and inside a pedestrian tunnel, the Museu d’Arqueologia de Catalunya (Archaeology Museum of Catalonia) and some of the many parks on the Sants-Montjuic hill. Taking the scenic route and including a quick breakfast stop it took about an hour and a half to get to Las Ramblas. Las Ramblas (sometimes written as La Rambla) is a tree lined boulevard flanked by restaurants, bars and tourist shops that runs from the waterfront through the gothic quarter that most tourist will visit at some point or another during their time in Barcelona. It might have been because it was a Sunday but there looked to be an event on down the Ramblas. Temporary bars and food venders had set themselves up but bizarrely worked on a token system. You had to exchange money for tokens that you then gave to the vendor of choice in exchange for food and beverage. Makes you wonder why they didn’t stick to the traditional method of exchanging something of an equal value. As we were in Barcelona we had to have a drink at the Estrella Bar. It’s one of Spain’s leading beer exports and it comes from Barcelona so it had to be done. I had booked us tickets to see the Sagrada Familia for 2pm and we were running out of time to get there so we had to pick up the pace. A sensible person may have got the Metro at this point. By the time we got there Michelle was on the verge of killing me as I had severely underestimated the distance between Las Ramblas and the Sagrada Familia. The only thing that stopped my premature death was feeding her a chocolate doughnut during the commute and that this temple of weird and wonderful design lived up to the hype. Some advice regarding the Sagrada Familia, always buy your tickets online in advance! You can skip the queues at the ticket office and still get in when they have sold out.
Designed by legendary architect Antoni Gaudi, construction started 1882 and has carried on since the death of Gaudi is 1926. The Sagrada Familia is estimated to finish between 2026 and 2028, 100 years after his death. It became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1984 and was granted the title of a Basilica by the Pope in 2010. The building was designed to not be symmetrical. No two windows, columns or spires have the same pattern or design. The nave is flooded with natural light from large stained-glass windows that surround the building. These were debatably my favourite aspect of the church due to the fantastic array of greens, yellows, reds and blues used to create the patterns. As part of our ticket we got access to the Passion Towers (the Nativity Towers were the other option). You take an elevator to sixty meters above the ground that leave you with some incredible views over the city and give you a better sense of the scale of Barcelona. Sadly, there was no lift to take us back to the bottom but taking one up to have to walk down was the preferable order to do it. This led us to Michelle’s favourite part of the basilica and possibly of the whole trip. A narrow spiralling staircase with no handrail and a 20+ meter drop straight down the middle. You had to be skinniest person on earth to smoothly fall through the gap but I genuinely enjoyed that there was no hand rail there to stop you rolling all the way to the bottom if you didn’t concentrate on where you were stepping. Health and safety has no place in Gaudi’s church. After the quickest walk through the church’s museum and gift shop we were back out it the glorious sunshine. We decided against walking back to the central area and opted for the Metro. My dad decided to give both myself and Michelle horror stories about pick pockets being rampant across the Barcelona Metro system. Every time we chose to use the Metro there was hardly anyone on it making any pickpocket slightly more obvious but that didn’t stop us turning our bags round so we could see them and hugging the walls like a gecko. After some tapas and wine by the university area we headed back to the hotel so I could take part in the most Spanish of traditions. Siesta time!
After scrubbing up to look more respectable and some wine on the roof we jumped back on the metro and back to Las Ramblas. It felt much different at night. There were still the crowds shuffling up and down at irritatingly slow paces but the mood was different More casual, more cool. We knew eating on Las Ramblas was going to be expensive and slightly touristy but we were on holiday so it was acceptable. We just needed to find the perfect touristy restaurant. We decided on Via 70 Tapas, it had chair upholstery that we both agreed on, had enough people eating there to suggest that it was a decent establishment but not too many that we would be dining with the people next to us, the string lights dangling from the parasol were a delightful warm yellow glow rather than a clinical bright white and it was half way up so we didn’t have far to stumble back to the Metro. I had the mixed paella and a white sangria which I’ve never heard of before but life will never be the same again. Michelle had a steak and a bottle of Vina Sol. The best thing about eating out with Michelle is her sparrow’s appetite. Which means whatever she orders I get to eat as well. Meal finished and people watching done, we relocated to Placa Reial, a square just off Las Ramblas, for another drink and to watch other people. We started at Rei De Copes, only because we were ushered in by one of those guys who stands outside with the job of ushering you in. Most of the places around the square were pretty much the same but this one had a dance floor inside and gave the impression it was for large groups of brits on holiday. This assumption came to reality when a Welsh hen party arrived. Very few things say loose and lairy like a Welsh hen party. We finished our drink and relocated to another bar on the other side of the square called Ocana Bar. This was a little bit like The Botanist chain but with less lighting. The urinals were a little close together for my liking but the rest of the toilet area and the rest or the bar were delightful. After getting hit on and exchanging air kisses with one of the guys that walks around trying to flog roses we found a taxi and returned to the outskirts.
Day 2
We had breakfast on the balcony with items gathered from a bakery across the street from the hotel. By 10am the mercury was starting to hit 30 degrees so a lesson learnt was chocolate items should have been eaten first or in the air-conditioning comfort of the room. We started the days activities by taking the Metro back into the centre to have a look at the other architectural wonder of Gaudi the city had to offer. We got off the L3 line at Diagonal, the closest stop to where they all are. We started with La Pedrera, a block of flats designed by Gaudi, followed by Casa Josefa Villanueva which was not, but still has an impressive façade. A little bit further down the road is where the design battle took place. There is a row of five impressive houses where each designer appeared to try and outdo each other in design. There is Casa Lleó Morera designed by Domènech i Montaner, Casa Mulleras which is now a restaurant, Casa Bonet which is a Levi’s shop, Casa Amatller, a family home turned museum and the one everyone one comes to see, Casa Batlló the other apartment block designed by Gaudi. After batting with the crowds for the best photography spots we decided to move on towards the Gothic Quarter through Plaça de Catalunya, a square Michelle would not venture to due to the ridiculous number of pigeons. There were several people who were feeding them and other who went one step further and were covered in pigeons from head to toe. In stark contrast to the rest of Barcelona, the Gothic Quarter was easily identifiable as being much older looking with narrower, winding streets. It felt like a completely different city and I liked it. We took some overly posy photos outside the Catedral de Barcelona to mock everyone else around us who were clearly doing it for “da Gram” and then tried to find a place for lunch. That idea was abandoned very shortly after because we were in a touristy area so everywhere was full. Winding our way through the streets we somehow found our way back in Placa Reial just in time for a 2-4-1 cocktail time back at Rei De Copes, minus the hen party. Sex on the beach later and we headed to the beach.
We went across the pedestrian bridge Rambla de Mar to the big modern shopping centre Marmagnum in the middle of the marina then looped back round passed the “lookie Lookie” men, as Michelle called them, up the main pedestrian walk way towards the beach and found ourselves on Playa de San Sabastián. As soon as I saw it I fell in love with the place. It was a big beach with a good atmosphere. There were lots of people going up and down the beach on bikes, skateboards, skates and scooters and had lots of seafront places to eat and drink. It may have been because we didn’t walk that far down it, relatively, but I was disappointed there was only one surf brand shop. We settled on a place called the Surf House for a late lunch. It had a name we both liked, nachos that we both like and served a dragonfruit smoothie which changed my life. If we had a hotel that was slightly closer I would have participated in its organised beach yoga or evening SUP and mojito sessions the Surf House provided. They also do SUP rentals if you are interested. At the end of the peninsular where we started our beach walk is the Transbordador Aeri Del Port cable car with some amazing views over the city. For €11 one way or €16.50 return it’s a great way to get to and from the beach and at the other end is the Sants Monjuïc hill and Restaurante Miramar which has views to rival the cable car.
After a drink and admiring the Hotel Miramar (where I plan on staying on my next visit) we started walking back to the SB. Progress was slowed down by my relentless need to not miss anything and exploring the parks we missed during the walk the previous day and by the sound of samba drums in the distance I wanted to find. The noise belonged to a drum troop performing next to the Museu d’Arqueologia de Catalunya. I wanted to join in but there were no spare drums. It was golden hour when we walked down past the Magic Fountain towards the Metro station Pl. Espanya and I wanted to stay out and soak it all in. But at the same time we were tired and dinner was calling. We decided that night to get a bottle of wine from a shop, order room service, eat and play some cards on the balcony. Our food arrived lukewarm and two player card games were limited, especially when you keep winning, but it was a delightful evening overall with attempted star gazing and deep conversation.
Day 3
Guess what? We went to find another Gaudi marvel but this time in the form of Park Güell. We arrived to find that all the tickets were sold out and the next batch would go on sale later that afternoon (book your tickets online in advance!) so we stuck to the free area of the park and gardens which were pleasant enough. We were possibly parked out by this point but we made our way to the top which had some decent views over the city and I nearly convinced Michelle to play with some trained pigeons that were dyed pink and blue. We were running on fumes by this point having skipped breakfast so we found a sandwich shop and jumped on a Barcelona City Tour Bus. I have never been on one of these before in places I have previously visited as I have always either walked around or used a Metro if the city has one. If a new city has a city tour bus I want to get involved. They are a little expensive but they are a good way of getting around, getting some history about lots of locations, the ticket lasts all day so you can jump on and off as you please and the little booklet they give you is filled with discount coupons on other attractions and restaurants. We didn’t use any of them. Like most other attractions be sure to get your tickets for the bus online and you will save a few more euros.
We took the bus to the beach stop back at Playa de San Sabastián but this time we were prepared to stay for a little while. Before we could find some prime beach real-estate we first had to find Michelle some large cheap beach throw thing because she didn’t have a towel. Several long minutes later we found one that was the right shade of purple (even though blue was the original colour required) with the correct number of circles correctly spaced apart so we could finally enjoy the beach. It was only when we got back to the hotel we found out that the dye had come out of it and stained her bikini. We selected a spot a short walk from the sea so that when we both went into we could still see our belongings. This is not to say the beach is littered with pickpockets but you never know when an opportunistic bottom feeder of society might have noticed you attempt to burry your valuables in the sand in a small dry bag underneath your towel. Best thing to do is probably just not take anything other than a towel with you. Roaming up and down the beach are men and women selling beers, mojitos, water, beach throws, hair braiding, massages and pedicures, so if you desired you could get pampered and slowly sloshed at the same time. While it was nice to have some time just to lay back and relax for a few hours in a pleasant location with no pressure to do anything, neither Michelle or I are ones to lounge on a beach for hours on end. I get bored and am secretly very ginger so there is no point me lying there trying to change colour. We attempted to get some post beach tapas at a place called Tapa Tapa but service was slow even for Spanish standards so as we walked back towards the centre we stopped for a couple of ice cream sandwiches and at Las Fritas for some of the best chips I’ve ever had. Mine was topped with Iberian ham (in sausage form) and Michelle had 2 quesos (two cheeses).
Another short trip on the City Tour bus going in the other direction and we were back at Pl. Espanya to tube back to the hotel to freshen up for dinner. I had a quick few lengths in the rooftop pool as this was our last night in Barcelona and we still hadn’t used the feature that made us choose this hotel in the first place. We both returned to the roof a short while later, fresh and glammed up for a drink at the bar followed by our complementary drink in a peaceful outside area of the reception bar and restaurant. We return to the centre for our last meal in Barcelona and had selected a restaurant off Las Ramblas from a google search of the area. There were a couple that would have been nice to try out if we had the time but the one selected was Rita Blue. Situated on the side of Plaça de Sant Agustí, Rita Blue is a fusion food restaurant and cocktail bar with a modern interior and a couple of tables and chairs outside right next to Parròquia de Sant Agustí, a church that was rather creepy at night with a few candles still lit by the entrance behind a closed gate. We started with grilled cheese and mango chutney, odd combination I know but it worked. Michelle had some of the classic tapas options for the main and I had a Fajitas de Pollo Tandori (a tandoori chicken fajita. #FusionFood). It tasted amazing but they gave me what could only have been the largest sizzling pan from the kitchen and two of the smallest fajita wraps I’ve ever seen. I can normally pack quite a lot of food away and then crack on with Michelle’s leftovers but something about this meal made us both struggle. Shortly after finishing Michelle started feeling unwell so we quickly paid up and headed to the Metro with me being used as a human stabiliser. As the journey progressed Michelle started to deteriorate and I started to feel pretty rough myself but couldn’t let Michelle know in an attempt to keep the situation as calm and positive as possible. What followed when we returned to the room was not pretty. We both decided to re-enact the vomit scene from Team America. The only thing that made this awful situation slightly more manageable was that we never needed to compete for the toilet bowl. Like the polite brits we are, we took it in turns without a need to bang on the door to hurry the other person up or fear of not making it in time. To this day we still don’t know who the culprit was.
Day 4
To say the morning was a struggle is an understatement. A discussion was had about whether we ditch the train to Madrid, stay another night in Barcelona, ride it out and get another one the following day. This idea was eventually thrown out for a couple of reasons. 1. We would probably feel worse is we just stayed and festered in that room. 2. It would be expensive. It took a while to pack and several pit stops were required but we eventually made it downstairs to check out and call a taxi. The journey to the train station was a quite one and longer than either of us would have liked with the Spanish style of driving. There was a pharmacy at the station so I gathered a few bits that would theoretically make life worth living again that included isotonic energy drinks, some weird oil that we were supposed to mix with water and the driest biscuits known to man. We reached our seats on the train with a few minutes to spare and they the nicest seats on the nicest train I have ever been on. It made feeling awful slightly less so. Peaking at 301km per hour it took just over two and a half hours to get to Madrid past some fascinating scenery, for the bits I could concentrate on or wasn’t trying to sleep through. Our train arrived into Madrid’s Atocha Railway Station just before 2pm and life was a struggle. When you have to que for the taxis in the 30+ degree heat you do come close to asking whatever deity is listening to put you out of your misery. We were staying at the Hotel Atlántico Madrid on the Grand Vía, Madrid’s main artery of shopping, which at the time was packed with road works. After checking in and seeing what English channels the TV could provide me with we both napped. We did briefly leave the hotel that day to walk around the corner to find a shop to buy a few supplies to keep us going over night before returning to the room. There was only so much listening I could manage about Trump talking to Kim on the news I could handle, so it resulted in watching Nickelodeon. It started well with SpungeBob Squarepants but that was sadly followed by rubbish called Drake and Josh and I-Carly which carried on until the early hours of the morning.
Day 5
This was our only full day in Madrid and the original plan for the day was to go to Toledo, an ancient walled city an hour outside of Madrid with some amazing views. Neither of us felt up to this, or much walking in general, so we called upon the trusty Barcelona City Tour Bus, but in Madrid. This way we could see the sites with very little effort on our part. We did get off the bus a couple of times. The first time was at the Real Jarín Botánico, the botanical gardens. €5 gets you access to the multi-tiered garden which is separated into lots of little plots giving you plenty of paths and directions to crisscross through which eventually lead to the main building which houses a café, small gift shop and the main fountain. As we left we did notice that there was a small fleet of ducklings that were struggling to get to mummy duck on the bank because the gangplank that dipped into the fountain pond had been removed. I can only assume they eventually got out. We returned to the bus and made our way back round past our hotel, past the Palacio Real de Madrid, past the Plaza de la Armería and round to Puerta del Sol, a public square we walked through earlier on when searching for something we could stomach for breakfast. We got off here only to walk back to the royal palace. On the way we discussed what we wanted to do for lunch. We did briefly walk into an American style dinner, against better sensibilities, but we must have been invisible as the staff walking around looked straight through us and we were never invited to take a seat. Several Spanish places were considered but as the uncultured philistines we are the safe option of a Subway was selected. Its funny that no matter where you are in the world they all smell the same. Opposite Palacio Real de Madrid was another small park called Plaza de Oriente which featured another impressive fountain and several grand statues of people I presume to be previous monarchs. It was surrounded by tree lined streets and grass banks with all the cool kids sat. We chose the park next door called Jardines de Sabatini. It was small but very well maintained with, you guessed it, another grand pond and fountain. If we were feeling better I’m sure we would have been tempted to jump in to cool down. It was still during that time of day when gingers can only venture into the sun for brief stints before they risk looking like someone spilt Ironbru on the floor and we were struggling. Michelle was also being bullies by the park’s resident butterflys so we headed back to Atlantico via a corner shop to get a Calippo.
After a siesta and listening to Trumps meeting with Kin being dissected for the thousandth time we got dressed to kill, put our dancing shoes on and headed for the Metro. I had booked us a salsa lesson on Air BnB with Clases de Salsa y Bachata. Finding the place was probably the hardest part of the evening. We were on the right street but everyone we asked to try and point us in the right direct kept pointing in the opposite direct of the previous, supposedly, helpful people. We eventually found it in a downstairs room outside a bar. There were thirteen of us attending with the men outnumbering the girls by one. The lesson was entirely in Spanish which definitely added to the experience but it didn’t matter, it made it better in my mind. We did the beginners class and the steps were easy enough to follow and pick up, it was adding the swag and the cool Latin rhythm that was the hard part. The men stayed where they were and the girls moved round in a circle so we changed partners every minute or so adding a sideways salsa step and a turn in as we went. When the class finished and we were doing a little post class dance one of the other guys in the class asked if he could dance with Michelle. We suspect he was a little disappointed when he learned that we arrived together. We did end up walking a little bit of the way back with him and an American girl who was there on placement for a few months and was looking to meet people. He was from Mexico and I can’t remember either of their names. After passing the Real Madrid football stadium we hopped back on the Metro closer to home before doing the rest on foot, taking us through a section of the city we hadn’t seen yet. We got a few drinks and a baguette for dinner in the room and then sat up on our hotels rooftop bar with a glass of wine and surveyed the city’s night time skyline. It was a really nice spot for a drink and was undeservedly quiet.
Day 6
Our last day in Spain and we had nothing planned. I did notice on the map that there was a very large park that we missed the previous day. I think deep down we were all parked out but we were still in a delicate state and not in the mood for anything that took too much brain power. Especially as we were running on fumes having had no breakfast. Parque de El Retiro, one of the largest parks in the city at 350 acres, once belonged to the Spanish Monarchy up until the late 19th century when it became a public park. We stopped at Bar Mirador el Estanque, a café in the middle of the park next to the boating lake, for something to keep us going. I really wanted another paella, so that’s what I got. It was ok but nothing special, like one of the ones you would get frozen from a supermarket. Michelle had a mojito for her breakfast. We didn’t stay long as we had things to see and Michelle was getting mugged off by sparrows.
Our last point of interest on the trip was the Palacio de Cristal, the Crystal Palace. The reality disappointed Michelle as it was just glass and not actual crystals that she could meditate or talk to tree spirits with. This amazing building was built in 1887 to mimic the original one in London built for the Great Exhibition of 1851. If it weren’t for the lack of privacy living in what is essentially a large conservatory I’d move in now. Just add some plumbing, a couple of plug sockets and a sofa and I will be alright. We sat on the steps outside the building, watched the turtles, walked around the lakes and headed back to the hotel to collect the bags via a couple of souvenir shops.
It was roughly half an hour to the airport by taxi and the security checks were easy enough. All we had to do was sit down with our McDonalds and wait for our flight to be called. For what ever reason the night before I was unable to check us in online, this meant having to check in at the airport and not being able to sit next to each other on the plane. And I ended up with a middle seat. The worst kind of seat. A couple hours later and we were back in the motherland and on the Rail Air back to Reading. Michelle went home to cry and I went off to a works leaving party in a casino with my bag and some pineapple that I bought the first night in Madrid and still hadn’t opened. Ain’t no rest for the wicked.
The first holiday as a couple is always going to be an educational one. The second one might even be as well. For a first ever couples holiday it definitely was for me. You are probably going to be around that person for a length of time longer than anything before it. You are in a different environment where their actions and responses to certain circumstances and situations might be different. You learn more about them in a different way. I was told that its not a proper couples holiday if there weren’t a few arguments or disagreements. It would be foolish and naive to assume that there wouldn’t be. There were always going to be a difference of opinions and the number of variables that could cause arguments on holiday is huge. How long to stay at each attraction. How to get there. Where to eat. What to eat. Where to stay. Stop eating my chips. Get out of bed its time to go. You took me the wrong way again. The list could go on but it’s how its dealt with that is the real test. Its about compromise and I think we did fairly well over all.
Would I do it again? Yes. Would I go back to Barcelona? Definitely. I would want to go back to the beach, go up the other set of towers at the Sagrada Familia, maybe go inside some of the other Gaudi buildings, see the Magic Fountain and take a day trip to Montserrat. Would I go back to Madrid? Also yes. I feel like most of Madrid passed me by due to illness. I would like another salsa lesson, to actually make it to Toledo, maybe make it inside the Royal Palace and see a football game against Barcelona. Or in Barcelona against Madrid. Would I go traveling with Michelle again? Yes I would, and not only because as my girlfriend I would probably have to. I would be lying if I said it was easy all the time but the pros outweigh the cons. She was funny, good at finding hotels, let me eat her food, flexible with scheduling and put up (mostly) with my need to take continuous detours every time I though there was something interesting down another street, lane, road or path. Even if it wasn’t a real path. Would Michelle go travelling with me again? It could go either way but you will have to ask her for a definitive answer.
