Escaping Benidorm
The road fleeing Benidorm was anything but straightforward. From spending several hours trying, and failing, to find a parking spot in Valencia and being forced to move on to driving through one of the worst storms I have ever witnessed, Spain would not let us circumnavigate her coastline easily. Barring a couple of days steering through the remnants of Hurricane Patricia in Texas a few years ago, the road conditions on our leg to Barcelona were the worst I had ever had the displeasure of navigating. Endless sheets of rain and hail hammered the van from front to back whilst gale-force gusts blew it from side to side. A walking pace was all a sane driver was able to achieve along the extremely perilous motorway. Those that did attempt to raise their speed or, even more ludicrously, attempt an overtake manoeuvre either ended up aquaplaning into the central reservation or, as we witnessed on several occasions, into the Northern Spanish hills.
Thankfully, Vishnu was able to avoid both of these fates although it did take several lifetimes before we reached the sanctuary of the slightly less damp Barcelonan suburbs. Park4Night had, once again, guided us to a perfect spot on the outskirts of the city: close to a truck stop with shopping, shower, and laundry facilities as well as a ten-minute walk from the nearest metro station. This was particularly useful given we had bought tickets to watch Barcelona play Benfica in the Champions League that evening and had very little time to make our way across the chaotic city to the Camp Nou. Unfortunately, the rainstorm we had survived driving through earlier in the day decided to park itself directly above the roofless stadium. Despite sitting in the wide-open nosebleed seats, only having €6 plastic ponchos for protection, and witnessing zero goals, it at least gave us a golden opportunity to wash our matted hairdos (watching a game in one of Europe’s great stadiums was something of a bonus).
Mercifully, the following few days were moist but not monsoon-like as Lowri took the opportunity to show me around a favourite city of hers. We soaked up the atmosphere, as well as the San Miguels, on La Rambla and in the Barri Gòtic (Gothic Quarter) before several sangrias alongside Sant Sebastià Beach – it was quite the luncheon. Whatever one thinks about Barcelona, it’s anything but dull.
Lowri had also arranged a couple of belated birthday events in my honour including a vegan food tour and a live flamenco show. The former involved a ramble around several of the city’s finest plant-powered eateries. What our guide, Canadian Sarah, couldn’t have planned on is taking the tour straight past a plethora of police cars and a blanketed corpse. I can only assume it was a corpse unless somebody decided to siesta underneath a white sheet in the centre of the city. The flamenco show, whilst less macabre, was just as dramatic, as the flamboyant performers threw their frenzied legs all over the stage – busting more moves than a Tory lockdown social.
La Sagrada Família was to be our final Catalonian stop. I cannot imagine there is a single building on earth I have seen more photographs of or read more column inches about than this legendary as-yet-unfinished structure and as I rounded the exit of the Sagrada Família metro station, there it was. It is a thoroughly remarkable and unique construction, although I was slightly surprised given how brand-spanking-new most of the basilica appears. Barring sections of the four central spires and the façade above the central doorway, the remainder looked as if it had been there a matter of months. Despite this, the modern additions appear to follow Gaudi’s distinctive and garish architectural style – not that I know a thing about the guy. Nonetheless, it still inspires and divide’s opinion in equal measure and, by the looks of the giant star that was added to the central spire just days after our visit, will continue to do so.
Our exit from the Iberian Peninsula was far less dramatic than our arrival. We headed inland, in a northerly direction, and had clear blue skies for the duration of our short drive to our next destination. A hidden, mountainous, landlocked sovereign state that few dare to visit: Andorra.
J
