I am wearing red. To be more precise I am wearing bright red linen, cropped trousers. I say cropped, they feel much longer as they graze my ankles. On Saturday I found out I am barely five foot two. I am officially short, I knew I was short, but not THAT short. The realisation that I am short or rather ‘that short’ has come as quite a shock. It sef me off into spiralling alarm.

So instead of packing and getting organised I spent a disproportionate amount of time googling, Is five foot two short? and various height related questions. All of which came back as affirmative. I am officially short. That led me down in a rabbit warren of all things short. Heightism is a thing, there is the unconscious or even conscious bias that people who are tall are dynamic and can get the job done. I was rocked! I now actually feel short.

With less time now for getting organised I headed to Emmaus on Sunday to grab a holiday bargain. I spotted some fabulous red trousers, alas 3 sizes too small. The woman next to me with a tightly curled perm and beige clothes, most likely from Bonmarche. Bonmarche is the top selling brand on our eBay site. Our size 24 floral, elasticated waist skirts go down a storm, normally with a bidding war. We know our brands!

Anyway back to the woman, who wistfully looked at the trousers. They are such a bargain, where else can you get M&S trousers for four pounds, she said breathily with tangible excitement. Edging nearer in a conspiratorially hushed voice, she said, of course women of our age can’t wear red. She had been reliably informed by her friend that this was the case. Ignore your friend I said stridently, what does she know! She looked thoughtfully, perhaps you are right she answered, still gazing at the trousers and possibly thinking of her lost youth.

So, here I am travelling to Guatemala, defiantly wearing red. Pushing the limits even further,I have gone beyond double denim, I am wearing double stripes! A rainbow striped top with a striped jumper. Topped off with rainbow coloured sandals. A variable explosion in a paint factory! As well as a big flowery rucksack. I imagine the woman in Sheffield having the veritable vapours over my chosen attire!

It’s been a long journey. Sheffield to Heathrow, Heathrow to Madrid, Madrid to Guatemala City and finally Guatemala City to Antigua. Beyond jet lagged, a feeling I can only describe as sponginess. The inflight food was good, which is always a good sign. Flying to America we were given a boiled sliced courgette sandwich. It truly felt like open warfare against vegetarians. We played a lot of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire – winning a virtual million.

Entering Guatemala City we were asked for our ‘paper’. Duolingo and GCSE Spanish lessons have not equipped us for this. I can say my name, ask for two beers and where the toilets are. Beyond that, even the most proficient charade skills fail.

Exasperated, we were waved through without ‘paper’. We then had to go through customs. Paper had been elevated to ‘yellow paper’. Again we were waved through, resignation on the women’s face that she probably doesn’t get paid get paid enough to ‘fight’ this battle. So most likely this old, short women is taking part in illegal activities.

The journey to Antigua was not long in distance but certainly took longer than expected. Rush hour traffic, heavy with the smell of diesel fumes.

Hastily put together bits of breeze block in various states of disrepair lined the route. 1.5 million houses, or 65% of them are described as inadequate. With people living without plumbing, sewage systems, walls and roofs. Skeletal dogs roaming the streets, they are not domesticated here. Ribcages visible from metres away. Whilst I could feel very triggered by their plight it was obvious on the journey that the people are living in desperate conditions. Many are malnourished and suffer from ,’ stunting’,the inability to grow normally because of insufficient nutrients etc. It made me realise how utterly ridiculous I had been hours earlier when I was dwelling on my short stature.

The traffic was quite bad the nearer we got to Antigua. Today is the biggest festival in their calendar, the jewel in the crown of festivals in the region. Every town and city in Guatemala has a patron saint who looks over its inhabitants. Antigua’s is Santiago, or Saint James. The locals may dispute how well he looks after them. In the last 24 hours there have been no earthquakes but there have been two in the last week and in the last year there have been 91. Avoiding natural disasters is hard to achieve in Guatemala as it lies on the Ring of Fire, with added exposure to hurricanes from the Atlantic.

The hotel is great! In the colonial style of the majority of buildings in Antigua. A clear juxtaposition from the small settlements we passed along the way. Confusingly there are two hotels with the same name here. Particularly confusing on our way back later that night in the dark, jet lagged, with frayed tempers and head injuries!

Storming through the jetlag we headed to the plaza where the main festivities were taking place. The noises coming from the bands not too dissimilar from the noises centuries earlier of the public floggings and hangings that habitually happened here. A mixture of drum and bass, then crooning.

We were in search of a phone lead. Pete had bought quite a few in Poundland,none of which worked. We now have some interesting clothes lines for later in the holiday. A man was selling them from a basket on the street.

He wanted 100 quetzals but I haggled him down to 50. Haggling seems quite a difficult thing to do, power dynamics are in play. Gone are the days of colonialism and in its place the imperialism of tourism. But then on the other hand it seems that it is what is expected .The quetzal is named after a bird with long tail feathers, they are emblazoned on their currency. In Mayan culture goods were paid for with these tail feathers.

The town is so colourful and vibrant, it felt quite intoxicating.

I couldn’t resist posing for the following photo opportunity!

Next door to a shop we had a look round was the Antigua Brewing Company. Hunger and thirst had set in. They brewed their own beer here. Apparently Guatemalans have a thirst for fine beers.

The food was utterly delicious. Nachos and refried beans on another level and a tomato salad to die for. At 8 they had free salsa lessons. Boldly going where I would ordinarily not venture, we gave it a go. I was certainly no twinkle toes!

Pete really got into it! Uno dos tres, they shouted again and again as my feet refused to comply. Pete said it was probably the equivalent of patting your stomach and rubbing your head, I may have got that a bit wrong. Perhaps we may venture into this territory again.

On the way back to the hotel I took this photo showing the volcano in the background. Acatenango hasn’t erupted since the late 1970s.

I got really giddy looking back at this photo, thinking I had captured the moon. Finding on closer scrutiny that it was a street light was quite deflating. I can pretend…..

We got really lost on the way back. The town is made up of blocks, everything looking very familiar but also unfamiliar. So a journey that should have taken minutes became nearly an hour! Thankfully we now have our bearings!

Guatemala has a very high crime rate. Guidelines suggest not being out after 10 etc. We broke all the ‘rules’ and made it back in one piece to the hotel with its intricately folded towels.

A leisurely start to the day with Pete bringing pastries the size of plates back to the hotel. We decided to be far more focused today and make sure our plans were carried out more or less to the letter.

We had been told by the Irish couple that the History Museum of Barcelona was worth a visit. We meandered to it, stopping for coffee on the way.

Then on to a flea market that was outside the cathedral. By today we really had got our bearings, which is always the way at the end of the holiday.

I bought another pair of earrings. So far I have bought 4 pairs of earrings while I have been here,none more than 5 euros. Today the seller is said the earrings were vintage from the 1990s -for god’s sake that’s at least half of my wardrobe!

Stopped wearing them due to wearing facemasks, kept loosing them.

We found the museum without any issues, phew! My feet have had quite a pounding, need to be fitter for Guatemala in the summer. Jesus that is such an entitled sentence!

The ruins of Barcino.

It was very interesting the way that they had set it out. Again Pete was in the mood for posing…..one day he will get us into trouble.

That said it makes for a great photo opportunity.

Upstairs there was a medieval exhibition but it wasn’t nearly as engaging.

However, I did like the building!

Whilst we have enjoyed the tapas here the food has predominantly carnivorous so not so great for us,but that is the be expected. In terms of tapas there have been staples of patatas bravas, tortilla, garlic mushrooms so as Barcelona is a diverse city we have eaten food from across the world. Today we had Ramen, a favourite of ours.

I had spicy ramen and tofu, Pete’s wasn’t spicy. When it came to be served his had been given to someone nearby who was busily eating it. Pete was offered chicken ramen and the other customer had been eating Pete’s tofu one. So case in point, the other customer was fine with it – tofu is great!

Another recommendation was the Miro foundation- to get to it we needed a bus as well as the Metro. So today we found out that bus travel is also really easy.

Somebody told us that this week is school trip week so wherever we have been there have been loads of children. Bah humbug!

Up another hillside in Barcelona, the building stands out but also fits in with the environment.

Opened in 1975, it is an awarding winning museum building designed by Josep Lluis Sert. Joan Miro is considered to be of Catalonia’s leading lights.He was born in 1893 and lived to the ripe old age of 100. Joan Miro was multi talented, a painter, sculpturer and ceramicist who is considered to hav challenged the conventions of art and gained a reputation comparable with Dali and Picasso for his pioneering work.

The Foundation holds 14,000 of his pieces, which were influenced by the avant garde and surrealist movements amongst others.

I loved the colours and shapes he created. The prize for the best titled painting goes to Man and Women in Front of a Pile of Excrement ….

Lurid colours said to represent the tragedy and torture of the Spanish Civil War. Miró’s choice of title was to use French and not Spanish. Miró said that the reference to excrement comes from a saying by Rembrandt who said that when it came to painting, rubies and diamonds were found in dung heaps.

We walked down the hill through the park back to the Metro.

We saw lots of orange trees and decided to grab some. Not certain if scrumping is just limited to apples.

What a god awful taste! The bitterness was awful. The only use for them is marmalade. Also if you are spotted by any officials you can be fined for tampering with council property. Lesson learnt – I will never, ever be tempted to try them again as it took ages for the vile bitter taste to go.

Walking down hill there was one learner driver after another,maybe learning hill starts.

On the Metro back there were swathes of United supporters shouting chanting with arms aloft. I can’t describe the shame I felt.

Over 35 years I have been involved in umpteen school trips. We drum into the children how they are representing Rotherham etc. I was utterly aghast at how they were behaving – like tribal orangutans. Drunk and looking for the next Irish bar.

i must admit I lost it. A group shouted in my face, singing some rubbish or other. I lost it I shouted and berated them. We must seem like utter and complete knobs. I want to wear a badge. One that says I didn’t vote for Brexit, I don’t support football etc. It is so embarrassing as it makes people from Britain seem like thugs, loutish and vulgar.

After a break we went to a free English language comedy night. It was at the El Paraigua. Drinks were eye wateringly expensive. But a beautiful place.

We were the only English people there. The comedians were Irish, American, Spanish, Brazilian and Estonian. As with these things some were amateurs and some professional, some hilarious and some not. A really great evening with genuine huge look laughs.

This morning my head got turned by the frivolities of shopping. The plan was to go to a modern art gallery. However, we left the hotel and we ended up going past C&A, from that point I was lost to consumerism. Pete got me a great cardigan in the sales. I have never understood why it closed in the UK but over a hundred did just that in 2000.

The shopping bug had started,so then we ended up going in and out of shops.

Coming out of C&A we looked left and saw riot police. There looked to be a stand off but in reality as in the UK it was a ridiculous over reaction and just a show of power.

It took a moment to work out what it was about,striking Amazon workers who have now been on strike for 17 days because of the closure of the hub in Barcelona. In the papers a union spokesperson said:
The closure will affect 800 workers who have been offered new roles at two new sites, much further away from their original place of work in Barcelona. Amazon cannot treat workers like pawns to be moved around a board as if they have no community, no family, no home and no ties to where they live. One of the sites is in Zaragoza, 62 km away, and the other is in El Far d’Empordà, around 121 km away in the province of Girona.

Such a similar story as in the UK, any discussion with management coming to nothing.

We sniffed out a second hand shop,Humana. Not only was it full to the brim with all sorts but there was a 40% sale. I got a tunic top -with pockets! As I say on our eBay site – what’s not to love. I got Pete some groovy in, trousers.

Walking round so more glimpses into Barcelona’s Roman history.

One thing we noticed as we were ambling around, a lot of white English loud men.

Completely disorientated we ended up at the wrong art gallery. We had found the MACBA not the MOCO – they sounded the same. We had a picnic outside, definitely a trendy part of the city, lots of bare chests, tattoos and skateboarding going on.

It was interesting so it wasn’t such a bad mistake.

Outside the gallery is a 30 metre blood red mural by Keith Haring to raised awareness about AIDS and HIV, made in the 80s.

Painting freehand, Haring took 5 hours to complete the mural which terminates with his signature and the message Todos Juntos Podemos Parar el SIDA (together we can stop AIDS).

It turns out that after walking what seemed like miles this gallery was actually only 5 minutes from our hotel!

Behind the reception are two jars full of sweets – very tempting.

Good because they are behind the receptionist and so no shame as we get a few before we go up escalator.

After a break we headed out to see a band, but I got it all wrong and there weren’t any tickets left. It wasn’t all bad as we listened to a guitarist in a local Brazilian bar. The barmaid chatted to us and said she had lived in Hull when completing her Oceanography PHD.

Some more tapas:

It became apparent as we walked the even streets that the loud white men were increasing – it had completely passed us by that there was an upcoming football match between Manchester United and Barcelona. It was horrible, the changing,the shouting and what felt very intimidating.

Took refuge in the Absinthe bar that was close by.

We sampled another guided walk today, the Gothic tour with Albert, a native of Barcelona and a historian. Quite different from the last tour but just as informative. It was a much smaller group this time, just a couple from Northern Ireland, Belfast and Derry. The man had been here 14 times as his sister lives here.

The Gothic tour took us round the old parts of Barcelona. Albert pointed out that in many ways it should be called the fake gothic tour as many of the things we saw on route such as the Cathedral had a gothic facade erected in the 19th century. It was precipitated due to the need for tourists. Ironic as nowadays the level of tourism here is overwheming. Albert’s grandmother is nearly 100 years old and she remembers a time when it wasn’t called the Gothic Quarter but rather the area around the Cathedral. So in many ways very recent or even neo-gothic. That said the area is the original site of Barcelona, dating back over 2000 years ago. We saw traces of Medieval times, Roman times and possibly the oldest synagogue in Europe.

On route Albert explained that Americans made up 10% of the tourists who visited Barcelona. Stating they were the best tippers, this felt like a challenge, which probably worked as we ended up tipping him more at the end of the walk. In the main city live one and a half people and officially 13 million tourists a year. Because of the rivers, mountains and sea surrounding Barcelona there is no chance over further expansion, which Albert explained causes stresses and strains and grumpy residents. His words not ours – but we have seen banners hanging from buildings decrying Air B&B etc. The same issues as many cities and places across the world.

Evidence of battles over the years still evident on the walls of the city.

Albert said that it was a conscious choice not to repair the damage made my bombs etc – a reminder of the outcome of conflict. Behind this wall 42 people died, mostly children. Bombed in 1936. Both Lisa and Albert described how during the Spanish Civil War the bodies of nuns were exhumed and people danced with their skeletons on the streets. Over 50,000 people lost their lives during the Spanish Civil War, with over 8000 executions. Millions displaced and fled to France.

Albert also touched on the current political situation, which like Britain sounds complicated and fractious.

We passed through a labyrinth of small alleyways, Albert pointing out things of interest. My capacity to store this information decreased as the we went on. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interesting but I was getting hungry.

A stone head, known as a carassas in Catalan, guiding men in a subtle way to brothels. The women’s eyes half closed in apparent ecstasy. Sometimes the bottom halves of doors would be painted red or the numbers on them larger than neighbouring doors to show what it was.

After the walk we headed to the port passing the Cap de Barcelona or Face of Barcelona. A 15 metre sculpture made by Roy Lichtenstein for the 1992 Olympics. Significant as it was his first outdoor sculpture. I think it has more than a nod to Gaudi.

It was lovely sitting in the sun, chomping on our ill gotten gains from breakfast. Listening to the sounds of jazz from a busker playing a saxophone as a soundtrack to our people watching. The buskers here are particularly good.

Pete was in a modeling mood today so I had to take all manner of photos of him – at one point he got his head stuck for a bit.

Before going to Parc Guell we stopped for a drink and had a cake, which was more like a biscuit.

Coque de vidre, sweet, crispy and delicious. Always good to try a few different delicacies.

I don’t know it it had just been a long day but we got confused trying to find the park. We had to walk up a series of steep streets as only to pass a series of open air escalators!

Parc Guell is basically a failed housing project, in fact only two houses were built over a four year period. Guell, Gaudi’s patron commissioned it. As with many of Gaudi’s work it was inspired by nature, there are no straight lines here, as there are none in nature. Gaudi wanted a housing a complex where man and nature were at one.

It had a fantastic view of the city below, as well as the Sagrada Familia.

It was quite busy in the park but then again an estimated 12 million people visit it a year. I can imagine it is rammed in the summer. Ironic as at the time many people just didn’t get what Gaudi and Guell were trying to achieve and just didn’t like what they saw in the model house. In the end only Gaudi and his family lived in the complex.

We saw a lot of monk parakeets there. Whilst I really like them they are many concerns about these birds who are impacting on Spain’s natural flora and fauna. But they were cute.

When we got back to the hotel we were hoping for a break but we greeted by loud drilling – the hotel had started building works just under our room. The drilling was incessant and felt like it was in our room. Our luck seemed to have run out again.

However, this time when we mentioned it to the front desk we were upgraded to a room on the top floor, gigantic, much more luxurious and with a fabulous balcony to boot!

We have loved the food here so far, particularly the tomatoes! We had tapas tonight that was delicious. It is widely accepted that tapas properly originated in the 16th Century when King Felipe tried to limit drunkenness on the streets bt forcing innkeepers to serve small dishes with their drinks. The classic was to eat tapas is called tapear, which means in Spanish to go from bar to bar and order tapas and a drink. A much more refined pub crawl.

Yum Yum!

As with many European places it was more limited in terms of where we could go as it was Monday. Not far from the hotel is the Mercado de La Boqueria. The first mention of it being a market dates back to 1217 when it was recorded that meat was sold from tables. I love wandering the aisles taking in the sounds, smells and sights of markets when we are on holiday. La Boqueria was an explosion of colours and products.

Then there were the meat stalls which turned my stomach but at least there was some honesty about them -, literally every bit of the animal is sold, not hiding behind sanitised wrapping with a complete disconnect in Tesco’s.

We didn’t buy anything at all,the browsing is the thing!

A bit more window shopping ensued down La Rambla. Some things seem to defy belief and made me wonder who would be tempted into the shops to buy things after seeing a pooping boy statue.

As a tourist it makes no sense but for someone from Catalan it does. It’s a caganer somehow linked to the Nativity. It represents not a boy as I first assumed but a peasant dressed in traditional Catalan clothes having a dump, for good measure they will sometimes incorporate a pig having a good sniff!

Placed at the edge of the Navity scene some people believe that it symbolises the earth being re-fertilised and in so doing so represents prosperity and good luck. The church accepts this tradition dating back to the 17th century. Not putting the caganer out during Christmas will signify bad luck for the coming year. Nowadays this has now extended to models of famous people being depicted in the same way. From Angela Merkel to Batman, they are collectors items and an Association of Caganer Collectors exists. I can imagine anything worse than having a Trump or Boris Johnson one!

Some things are downright tacky. There are lots of sex shops and even innocuous things like food and seeds take on a risque take.

It does seem at odds with Catholicism.

We did however find a great shop called Ale Hop and that was great, a bit like Tiger.

Got presents for Bea, a hot water bottle and a vibrating neck massager. There were all types of hot water covers, which considering how warm it is I don’t know why there would be such an array of them. That said as I have been walking round I haven’t been wearing a coat as it is so warm, yet all the locals are wearing lots of layers and scarfs as if they are wading through two foot of snow in minus 10.

On that note of the massager, casing was slightly broken and on our way back to the hotel today Pete shouted towards me ( I am always a few feet from him as he walks very quickly) – can I take my vibrator back. Was glad that no-one was around! Well there were a few but will never see them again. It’s Valentine’s day today – maybe they thought it was an unwanted gift.

We were interested in seeing George Orwell Square, not too far from us. Although the square has existed for some time it was nameless and only honoured George Orwell, who long had links with the region, in the 90s. Ironically it was the first place that Barcelona council installed CCTV due to the high degree of anti social behaviour..

In the centre is has a surrealist sculpture by Leander Cristofel, it’s supposed to represent women and sex I couldn’t really see it though.

There was a great bar opposite called Bahia, definitely like somewhere I would have frequented years ago. The music was great. The Sparks, New York Dolls. David Bowie etc. I felt so hip and trendy getting jiggy with the young underbelly of Barcelona. Of course later that came crashing down in the Metro when I was offered a seat. In my head I feel like a youngster but on the outside I think I look like a little old lady who sips tea, reads People’s Friend and likes nothing better than a rich tea biscuit.

We had booked to go inside Sagrada Familia. It’s hard to choose which one of Gaudi’s places to go to but as the outside is so impressive we felt that this was the one to go to.

The Sagrada Familia is still being built in fact the Egyptian pyramids too less time to build than this. Seeing it from the outside was one thing but being up close and inside alleviated it to a completely different level. The columns representing trees to support the immense structures above were spectacular, Pete said it felt like walking through a forest,I think I would agree. Everything Gaudi designed is so other worldly it is hard to imagine where his creativity came from which utterly bucked the trends of the day.

Even the door of the entrance pays homage to Gaudi’s deep love of nature.

Inside it was breathtaking, we spent over two hours which was interesting because as the light changed outside the light coming through the stained glass windows threw out warm oranges yellows and green hues. Pete said he felt he was being bathed in light, which it did feel like. Not being religious it felt like a spiritual experience, certainly not anything we would associate with Catholicism.

So many small details, such as this Sudoku type stone engraving outside.

Whichever way you count it comes to 33 the age Christ died. But is seems to odd and incongruous there.

Gaudi used real people and animals for his sculptures. This Roman soldier was sculpted from one of the workmen. He had 6 toes. Gaudi debated what to do but eventually decided that he would stay true to life. Following a bad storm his toe and leg were damaged, so now there is only 5 toes.

Gaudi at the end of his life lived in the Sagrada and would walk a few kilometres every day to church. He was knocked over by a tram. Because he looked so dishevelled the tram driver got out and just moved his unconscious body off the tracks. Eventually he was taken to the paupers hospital, refusing to move from it when his friends found him. He died days later.

inside I will admit to a lot of people watching, interesting to see the number of selfies happening. I may have picked up a few ideas! Gaudi as a very religious man could not have envisaged this I am sure.

We sat down for a while and got chatting to a young woman from Chicago, an architect. Pete was sketching as was she. She said that she was part of a group called Urban Sketchers, a global group with groups all over the first large symposium was held in Manchester. She was encouraging Pete to join. Her enthusiasm was infectious. It was interesting to hear an architects perspective of the church, there were some parts she really didn’t like, especially the tops of the columns. In many ways I was glad that this isn’t my background because I could just appreciate it for what it is without having any theoretical knowledge to cloud my perspective.

Under the church they had displays including many models for blind people to touch and gain some level of understanding of what he had produced.

i don’t think I will ever not look at how accessible places are for the visually impaired.

After a very busy day and a better grasp of the Metro we headed home towards the hotel. Later we had an amazing vegan Cantonese meal – I couldn’t walk any further! Felt bad to eat Cantonese in Spain but it was really tasty and saved my feet from further blisters!

Putting to bed the issues from the day before we decided to just concentrate on having a good time. We had such a lovely breakfast and being quite cheeky and having gone way over budget I proceeded to make sandwiches and rifle the fruit bowl etc for a substantial packed lunch.

Less frazzled we were able to appreciate the hotel more and the vicinity.

I had booked a free Gaudi walk for the morning which coincidentally began where the main morning part of the festival was continuing. No fireworks this time! The placa was buzzing as there was also a flea market going on, which has operated on the site for hundreds of years. The majority of the stalls were dedicated to selling stamps, coins and cava tops. Not really certain about the last one but we were assured that these had been sold here by generations of the same families.

I bought these earrings on one of the few stalls that deviated from the others weighed and cost three euros.

Around the square the gegants ,(or giants) started assembling. Towering at three to four metres high there are apparently about 100 different figures based in Barcelona and 1000 carriers – a skilled and potentially hazardous job.

I not certain what the significance of giant pigeons with breasts is….religion can be odd.

We saw people taking part in the festival being tugged into long pieces of cloths. Called faixas, originally worn by farm labourers to keep their kidneys warm and support their lumbar region. Now it seems that the different colours represent different groups.

We met with Lisa from the walking company,from Dublin but has lived here for 21 years. She was very exuberant and got us to introduce ourselves, which in hindsight was good because we chatted lots on route. The group consisted of a couple from Manchester a couple from Ontario, 2 couples from Dallas, a man from Canada who is now living in Reading, teaching year 5. There were people from Lincolnshire but they disappeared part way through.

Lisa gave a brief overview of Gaudi, who was very much disliked by his university lecturers because he couldn’t stick to their parameters. So much so that they convened a meeting to get rid of him. Only one lecturer stood up for him much later in life Gaudi and him would be in competition with each other. We we standing by Gaudi’s first commission, a lamppost. The council offered him a pittance as he was newly qualified – nothing changes! Gaudi insisted on getting 12 times that amount, he didn’t get it but it was increased. The outcome was that the council vowed that he would never be asked to complete a project , which is ironic given the revenue he continues to bring in to Barcelona.

On the way to the first Gaudi house the festival was starting up roads closed and human towers or Castells assembling.

The people involved are supposed to represent strength, balance, courage and common sense. A risky business that has resulted in deaths and injury, which has resulted in children now having to wear helmets. As these structures go up by quite a few metres it doesn’t guarantee too much safety.

Gaudi was able to become successful due to the patronage of a rich man named Guell. The Guell Palace was enormous, very grey representing the very religious outlook of Guell. However,at the top of the palace we could see a glimpse of the colour and quirkiness Gaudi is famous for.

From there we went on the Metro arriving shortly thereafter at the Casa Battlo. Lisa explained that Gaudi was very much influenced by nature and the house has a sea like aspect to it. Although at the top of the house is a slayed dragon which is a bit at odds with this. At the time of this commission the wealthy in Barcelona were in competition as to who would have the more expensive and excessive homes.

Gaudi became known for the lengthy process of creating his houses. He would visit at different times of the day and night to evaluate the impact of light on them. Sometimes completely going back to the drawing board.

Just before we headed to the next building Lisa produced a Chupa Chup from her bag. Which famous artist produced the design she asked. Thank god for being a hive of useless information, Dali I said. I won!!!! So competitive,but not all bad as I gave it to Pete.

A short walk away the Casa Mila is situated. Considered the most influential example of architecture in the world but also a project which Gaudi had not really wanted to be involved in as the person commissioning it was not the most pleasant. Undulating shapes both inside and outside is supposed to represent nature.

Each balcony different as it would be in nature. Inside it was split into apartments and now only three remain, all occupied by elderly women who only pay four hundred euros a be month to continue to stay there. To put it into perspective this area is super rich, we passed Dior etc shops.

Finally we headed to the Metro towards La Sagrada Familia. Still unfinished and an ongoing project. Lisa said that last year it made 80 million pounds – as it isn’t finished no tax has to be paid. It should have been completed by 2026, a hundred years from Gaudi’s death, she thinks that secretly it suits their purpose as they keep the money. Following his death a number of architects have worked on it, ensuring the spirit of his wishes are adhered to.

Ornate doesn’t fully describe it. So much to see. Gaudi wanted illiterate people to understand the bible, which is why there are so many depictions of the birth, life and death of Christ.

Parks edge two sides. Gaudi wanted each side to have parks with it in the centre. However, there are thousands of people living in flats around the it and there is quite a bit of protest at the idea of knocking down their homes.

The end of the tour, picnic in the park and then on to the Picasso museum. Realistically this was quite a stupid thing to do as the walking tour had been quite full on but on Sundays it’s free.

It was interesting to see the development of his art. To be honest there were some bits that I felt were really not great, he churned out a colossal amount. Picasso has bequeathed hundreds of art pieces to the city of Barcelona. There should have been a grand opening with local and national dignitaries. At the time there were a series of military tribunals, called the Burgos trials. Two policemen had been killed and the ensuing trials saw 16 members of a Basque separatist group stand trial. Many were sentenced to death. Within the region and internationally there was an outcry. Picasso was amongst them. He wanted no part of a brand opening with those who were part of a system that targeting the Basque group.

In the evening we went to oldest bar in Barcelona, Bar Marcella. First opening in 1820 -it didn’t look as though it had been painted since.

Frequented by many famous figures including Hemingway and Picasso. Also known as the Absinthe bar. Served the traditional way, I did decide to have one, going through the ritual of balancing a piece of sugar on a slotted spoon,pouring water on it until it dissolves and falls off.

By the time it was about 6 o’clock we had reached the end of our tether. Concerned that a big burly pimp would burst through the door and put the fear of god into us. We left and went to a cafe not far away but far enough from the place. By this point we hadn’t eaten since 8 in the morning.

As Pete set about researching what to do I went with my best Spanish to order a cheese baguette and drinks. Pete would have knocked spots off me as he has been studying on Duolingo for some time. By the time I had come back Pete had found somewhere a minute or two away. Making sure is wasn’t a hell hole he went to see what it was like before booking. A big thumbs up and rushed to the hotel. Wow wow wow!

Beautiful Meson de Castilla, artistic, clean,courteous and most importantly available. More or less the same price as the previous place.

Everything spotless in our room and most importantly we felt safe. Once happily ensconced in relative luxury we decided to try again with Booking.com. We were fed, watered and showered and ready to do battle again. Back to the call centre based in the Philippines. I was so calm, I explained that the holiday was very special and that this was ruining it. Pathetically I mentioned it was to celebrate the end of 35 years of teaching, as if this little nugget of information would somehow elevate me into an upstanding citizen in their eyes. I maintained my composure,I was suitably impressed by my demeanour and rationality. After 45 minutes I had again become an absolute harridan. There was no way I could steady myself and take stock that the customer service representative was on piss poor wages and was herself being undoubtedly shafted by Booking.com on a daily basis.

We were sent a complaint form,knowing realistically it will come to nothing. Enough time, energy and sanity had been wasted. It would be shelved for the day. But certainly not forgotten!

This weekend is a very important festival for Barcelonians. Not certain if they are called that but will go with that.

Santa Eulilia, the patron saint of Barcelona and a martyr. Although that said as with much of religion it is questionable whether she even existed as there is a similarly named patron saint from Malaga. They have alot of them,more than you can shake a stick at!

I really hope she didn’t exist as if she did she came to an utterly horrible end. Breasts burnt, skin pulled off, wounds scrubbed with rough stone, boiling oil and molten lead thrown at the wounds,thrown into a pit of quicklime and finally decapitated. But not before she had been paraded naked through the streets. Jeremy Clarkson would have been proud of the culprits who administered this torture.The sort of punishment that Suella Braverman would probably like to introduce. Anyway after this she died without renouncing her faith.

We were told today (Sunday) that where the rest of Spain celebrate with carnage inflicted on bulls Catalonians literally play with fire.

Heading to the square where the start of the celebrations would kick off was quite an eye opener. Now night we could see the bright plumes of fireworks in the sky, accompanied by the steady best of drums and the loudest of bangs.

Undeterred we pressed ahead as a fire breathing tortoise passed us by. I think it was a tortoise or a dragon like tortoise! Huge sticks of fireworks, not too dissimilar to cartoon sticks of dynamite shoved into its nostrils. I need to point out at this juncture that there was zero health and safety. It was every person for themselves.

Ahead throngs of people headed to the square and the sky was alight.

In the above photo you can see metal rods held aloft with fireworks on the top, held by people dresses as devils. This was the correfocs – which unbeknownst to us was the fire run. Devils literally running through the crowds spraying sparks from their held aloft pitchforks. The below isn’t my photo. Wanting to get better pictures I went closer, not realising that if you did go closer you had to be covered head to toe. In fairness I hadn’t expected them to run towards us. The drums started to get louder and the beat quickened as the devil’s surged into the crowds – sparks flying in all directions. We ran, fast carried with the crowd escaping the pyrotechnics. A spark hit my thumb burning it and another hot my phone case. Strangely this exhilarating experience really helped to distance ourselves from all the stress of the accomodation business.

Laughing and running from this we found a lovely tapas bar.

Pete’s face says it all….peace at last! Everything tasted fantastic after what had been a very full on day. Made better that we would be returning to a bed that was clean.

PHEW!

Leaving teaching after 35 years I thought it would be fitting to holiday in Barcelona, the scene of my first school trip 35 years ago. Memories of the trip are vague but happy. One stands out which involved ushering the students across a busy road. Completely forgetting that the cars would be coming in a different direction I masterfully ordered them to look in the wrong direction, only for them to be nearly run over. Looking back all those years ago I yearn in some ways for my 22 year old self, I absolutely knew everything and was an authority on all. But in hindsight I do wonder if the parents realised what they were doing when they released their offspring into my care, especially as I had a very basic grasp of how to look after myself. Added to that the concept of left and right and telling the time. How have I managed all these years!

Flying from Newcastle was the cheapest option. How smug I felt when being ridiculously undercharged at the airport for breakfast. The cashier doing a double take and having faith in the price coming but trusting technology let it go. While munching on my croissant without having had any moral scruple to point out the mistake I did have a fleeting thought about having some kind of payback. How right I was….

Everything regards the flight went fine. Had the usual debacle going through a search because of my girder like under wired bra. As ever I made a joke of it and as ever I got a stony look, despite thinking I was a tad hilarious.

Bus to the centre was again fine but finding where we were going to stay was much harder. I had booked using Booking.com- let this be a cautionary tale! The host messaged to say that she had been waiting nearly two hours – this later would become quite a substantial salient point. Finding ourselves down a side street which even for myself, an ex bouncer was quite threatening.

Still unable to find the place I had to message her to find us. ‘ I am wearing a white jacket’. I did spy someone….but surely not a 14 year old girl. It was and she escorted us to the apartment. Massive graffitied metal doors with a stench of piss and decay.

Only one apartment up some shoddy stairs. The hallway had two settees that looked like they had been rifled from a skip. Between them a rickety table with a huge bong and drug paraphernalia.

The young girl was there to translate for an older woman. We didn’t know where to look. Although certainly warmer than it was in Sheffield we hadn’t bargained for being greeted by a barely dressed woman. Breasts barely contained by a small strip of material on each side. A mini skirt that provided us with a front seat gynaecological view. Without prejudice she didn’t look like a cleaner and nor did the apartment look like somewhere tourists would stay. The tackiness of the place and the overpowering odours gave a distinct impression that this was a place she would bring clients.

They had been drinking beer and eating crisps, certainly not tidying. The young girl looked beseechingly at us and asked if we liked it. Normally I would do that very British thing and say it was all good. However, the horror of it all left me unable to say firmly no! Ignoring this they left. But not before asking several times if they could provide anything else for us. Mind racing……a threesome, or foursome, bondage a gimp suit? My head was truly boggled.

So many things wrong with the place. A broken window in the bathroom- a cushion wedged in the hole. Tinfoil rammed into the eaves, bare wires and unparalleled dirt. Besides all these things my asthma was triggered to the degree that I was finding it hard to breathe. We hadn’t chosen the cheapest option, I would have expected some level of wear and tear if it had been.

We couldn’t stay,I really would have ended up in hospital. So we rang Booking.com, which became a six hour marathon of barely contained hysteria.

Send photos they said, dutifully we uploaded nearly 20 photos. Yes Sir, yes Ma’am that does look bad, yes we understand you are unhappy,you need to contact the host and ask them for the money back. Blood pressure rising and voices too we again did as they said. Exchanges of messages with the host concluded with a big fat NO, which was no surprise. Sent them photographs. They responded by saying it was part of the decoration. I am sure that this part must have been badly translated. Where in world would masses of tin foil stuffed in various orifices be considered a quaint decorative flourish.

We talked to Adam. Irene and Justine – none of which were their names, all reading from the script. Noises made to ease our distress but having the adverse effect of making us angrier. ‘Look Pete, I will talk to them’ I said reasonably. So we had a backwards and forwards session of taking it in turns. I truly felt that I could be very restrained and reasonable. The breaking point was when having been on the phone for 45 minutes the customer service adviser got back to me full of joy that her supervisor had agreed to a refund. Anticipating something substantial I felt vindicated, only to be told we could have 25 euros. A switch flipped in my head and I went completely bat shit crazy. It is an ongoing situation but we decided that our health, sanity and safety were paramount and that the only option would be to book somewhere else.

So on the rare occasion they actually deliver the Welsh Daily Post to my mum, she found an offer to go to Dublin £12 return. Decided to book, although at the weekend it’s £15 which was still a bargain.

Got very confused,flustered and discombobulated trying to find how to get to the ferry port as a foot passenger. Things have changed in the decades I last did the trip. Helpfully there were no signs, at one point we thought we would have to scale to metal fence that runs parallel to the road.

Looked above and saw the Celtic Passageway Bridge which on googling realised this was the ‘,easy’ way to link to ferry port as a foot passenger. it’s only been there since 2006!

You can see the relief on my face!

Packed an enormous packed lunch, which in true school trip style had devoured very shortly after getting on the boat.

A good journey over, very calm. I sat and read and Pete explored and took lots of photos of himself around the boat.

I think the Stena Line will come knocking on our door for Pete to be part of an advertising campaign.

Again all change from when we have come before so it felt a bit disorientating but we made it into Dublin.

We headed to Merrion Square Park as I had found out that there was an Indian Cultural Festival to celebrate 75 years on independence. It was really vibrant and joyous.

Lots of food stalls, spoilt for choice but settled on paneer pakoras, which were very tasty.

Crossing the park we headed to the National Art Gallery, but not before Pete having another posing opportunity.

This is the Jokers Chair it is a memorial to Dermot Morgan who played in Father Ted.

The Art Gallery was really good and we saw lots of great artworks.

I particularly liked this one!

There was a special exhibition – Celebrating Ulysses, 34 works by German artist Gunter Schollkopf. Never managed to read Ulysses but Pete has, this exhibition really helped me understand it better.

What was more fitting than to go to a pub after this with links with James Joyce, the Lincoln’s Inn. Joyce used to drink there when he waited for Nora Barnacle at the nearby Finn’s.

Pete’s first pint of Guinness! From here went to Temple Bar and went to an eye wateringly expensive round. All the more painful as I only drink lime and soda.

Very much a tourist trap, expensive drinks and rowdy stag do’s. The bar we settled on had ear splitting live Irish music, it seemed a great option. It was really good hearing a bit of diddly, until the mood changed and a stag party came in. Suddenly it went to shout outs about where people come from. The group were Welsh and so he proceeded to sing Delilah – I wanted Irish ballads, anything but this.

The next stop was the Archeology Museum, which wished we had gone to first but we decided it would be first on our list if or when we go back.

We only managed part of the bottom floor as I was really absorbed by the peat men.

This one was the Clonycavon Man. I love the fact that he was only five foot two and had tried to appear taller by spiking his hair up with pine resin from southern Spain and France. Mind boggling to think he was doing this 2,300 years ago.

This was Old Croghan Man,over 2000 years old. Could have been tortured as his nipples were mutilated or was done as an offering.

Last but not least Gallagh Man who was killed maybe as a sacrifice or he was a criminal who was put to death.

I don’t know if it’s ghoulish but I found it all very interesting.

The last pub we headed to our last pub. Can’t remember what it was called but apparently in the top five in Dublin, we just stumbled across it. It was fantastic, so much to look at, with a budgie behind the bar. On the way Pete had a cuddle with Oscar Wilde. But think Pete enjoyed it more than him.

Sitting in the pub was much needed as I was knackered and my feet were killing me, we had walked miles and had packed all this in just five hours!

One odd thing was they were playing different versions of Dirty Old Town – I didn’t care as I sang the chorus each time. One fact I later found was that this was originally written by Ewan McColl and was about Salford, not anywhere in Ireland – who knew!

What a great few hours!!!

We got picked up earlyish to be taken to the Manuel Antonio Park. Our guide would be Alsandro. We didn’t expect to bump into Shish and Joyti as they were going with a hotel tour.

Manuel Antonio Park is one of the smallest national parks but despite that it is listed in the Forbes list of the top 12 in the world. It is home to 109 species of mammals and 184 species of birds. We were excited as we had been assured that this is the area of Costa Rica where we would undoubtedly see sloths etc.

Before we left the minibus we were asked to remove any food from our bags, luckily we didn’t have any but nevertheless we were all asked to open our bags for inspection as we went in.

Alesandro said that part way the walk we could decide to go our separate ways. Again, although he was lovely I think both Pete and I felt guided out.

We saw howler monkeys. I think I got it wrong in Tortuguero, it is these monkeys which have white balls.

We saw lots of iguanas close up. They seemed pretty chilled, even plodding along the beach.

We saw white tailed deers twice! The president of Costa Rica declared the white tailed deer a national wildlife symbol in 1995- it can be found on the 1000 colones note. This has caused some ongoing conservation as it has been felt by some environmentalists that it should have been the turtle. Both times they seemed unphased.

We saw hummingbirds again but that didn’t quell any of our excitement.

And then amongst all this wildlife we yet again bumped into Shish and Joyti, as well as Linda and Dee. Who knew that Costa Rica was such a small country. Rather than these flukey meetings we decided to meet for dinner later in the afternoon.

We saw lots of colourful crabs as well as hermit crabs in a range of different shells. I spotted the hermit crabs feasting inside a coconut half. It was incredible as from far away it looked like a throng of moving shells.

We also managed to see a sloth.

We weren’t as lucky as Shish and Joyti who had a few sloth in the trees at their hotel. That said on two consecutive mornings from our balcony at the same time more or less we saw a Capuchin monkey and her baby cross the rooftop below.

Alesandro showed us the black palm tree with incredibly sharp needles which indigenous people would scrape over a poison dart frog. They would then use a bamboo cane and blow it onto the animals they were hunting. It wouldn’t kill them immediately so have the hunters time to get to their prey.

When we saw the beaches we were so glad we had brought our costumes. It was a bit of gymnastics on the beach trying to get a very damp costume on without loosing my modesty.

We are the airport now so Pete can’t forward me any photos, so have downloaded one.

It was beautiful but a bit wild. At one point I got knocked off my feet and kept on being pulled backwards and forwards by the tide. I have the bruises to prove it!

We then walked to the other side where the beach was equally beautiful but much wilder. Pete went in but I decided on an initial risk assessment it would not be a good idea.

We headed back having thoroughly enjoying ourselves. The street from the Park was very colourful.

Later we officially met Shish and Joyti at a vegan cafe, Shish had found it, which was quite a spectacular find in an area dominated by fish. An American couple, Debbie and Ed joined us, again very vocal against Trump etc. So I think that my level of distrust in Americans is dwindling a bit.

The food was delicious and we chatted for three hours, although it didn’t seem like that long.

A wonderful day!