Flights/connections were all fine, but it was a long, long time getting here. I remember in 1999 when I was 56 years old. I would dump my suitcase in the room and hit the streets. I stumbled into the apartment; Jordi met me and showed me stuff I barely remember; I will tackle the washer/dryer at some later day. I was absolutely, totally beat. I think I hit the sheets (not streets) about 7:30p.
Got up this morning and looked at the place and unpacked -- a place for everything and everything in its place. Upon further scrutiny, I think the place is done in "Early Ikea." I did ask Jordi what this was:
This is the coffee pot – you heat the water in the white thing, you put grounds in the bottom of the thingie on the right, add water and then push the interior up and down. Pat, I did go shopping for a coffee maker this afternoon; couldn’t find one, but I will take up the cause tomorrow.
My eyes are gritty and burning; my body is wavering. Before I close this post out, let’s talk about doors. There is graffiti EVERYWHERE.
Why didn’t my door get a hit with the cans of paint? The ugly brown door in the middle is mine. Please note I have a bar on one side and a digital store (cell phones) and the other.
From my door, on the left is La Rambla; on the right is an area yet to be explored. A very short walk to get to this great street, but far enough away I don't get any of the noise.
My balcony is outlined in red; on the right I have a kid strumming a guitar to serenade me.
I hadn’t eaten since the London/Barcelona flight so I picked up food on the coffee pot search. The cheese/tomato/bread is for dinner tonight and the muffin/fruit for breakfast tomorrow. Since these three items set me back $17.14 USD, grocery shopping has risen to the top of the agenda of things to do. I am closing off and will try to post tomorrow between coffee pot hunting and grocery shopping.
