A day In Barcelona

As we were stood waiting for our train to Barcelona at Caldes De Malavella station, I took a step back from the railway track. We were unnervingly close to the tracks on lowered platforms, much different to those of our cold English country. Not to mention the pavement slap that directs you straight onto the track in order to guide you over to the other side, contrasting the safe bridges that take you over the tracks back home. My lovely uncle then proceeded to show me a video on his iPad of a man getting hit by a train when standing next to a platform very similar to the one we were stood on. He won’t be laughing when I make him carry over the tracks next time.
Stood from the other side, I could see the beautifully painted building of which we walked through moments earlier. Classic Spanish colours brightened up the station. A deep red and yellow. It certainly made up for the lack of sun, though that didn’t make a drop in the temperature. I reached underneath my sunglasses and wiped the moist skin beneath my eyes as our train approached. We managed to find a table seated for four people, with an old Asian man sat quietly. We joined him.
The lovely people that were accompanying me on this exciting day trip, was my Grandmother, Betty and my Uncle Roy. We sat in anticipation en el camino to Barcelona. Not five minutes into the journey, Roy’s insanely loud phone rings and echoes around the quiet train, to many of the passenger’s annoyance. Though watching Roy flounce about struggling to find his phone in his questionable satchel, resulted in me falling into a fit of laughter… “It’s not f**king funny!” The tears were running down my cheeks and the rest of the passengers followed in my laughter. Still unable to locate his phone, the petite old Asian man, glances over to Roy and mumbles “Pocket.” Well you can guess where Roy’s phone was now.
An hour later, we arrived at our destination. Within a few minutes of walking through dimly lit tunnels and roaming up countless steps, we were transported wonderfully into different world, an unfamiliar setting. I found myself surrounded by beautifully detailed buildings and the smells of rich coffee. I gazed around me in awe and eagerness and I smiled at the sun which shone brightly between a gap in the cloud. None of us had eaten breakfast as we’d agreed to eat when we arrived, so my Uncle lead us to a café he swears by and we filled our tummies with cured ham baguettes and café con leche.
We continued walking through the city, my jaw dragging along the floor as I took in every surrounding. In order to take in as much of the city as possible in the limited amount of time we had, we agreed to take a tour bus for the majority of the day. Plus it was one thing I could tick off my ‘being a tourist’ list. Sat right at the front on the top deck, I pointed to every recognisable landmark and building, while clapping my hands together in enthusiasm like a child. My cheeks were aching from my cheesy grin, as I was taking pleasure in the cool breeze that blew through my hair.
We drove around about five different streets in order to capture every angle of the Sagrada Família, the most extraordinary gothic church you could ever view. It has been in construction since 1882 and still remains unfinished to this day, the amount of detail that covers each square inch of the building is indescribable. A particular section which caught my eye consisted of around ten enormous spikes topped with different types of exotic fruit (inedible of course), not something you would usually find on your everyday church. The architect was a man named Gaudi, who died in 1926, and you couldn’t help but feel in awe of such a creative figure… “He must have been a very hard working man, that Gandi.”… “No nan, his name was Gaudi. Gandi is someone very different.” I replied as I patted her head. We have to be patient with the oldies. 
We stepped off the bus in order to take a look around Park Güell, another one of Gaudi’s masterpieces. The park was filled with numerous walls, buildings and statues coated with thousands of ceramic tiles, each one a different colour forming remarkable patterns. On our way back down to the bus we passed a street artist, who appeared to be headless and much to my amusement, scared the crap out of my uncle. Don’t worry I got a picture with him.
Next stop, Las Ramblas. A wide and never ending street lined each side with beautiful trees curving inwards, shading us from the burning sun. Uncle Roy was after a new pair of sunglasses, and lucky for him, countless men were lined down the street with blankets at their feet covered in any accessory you could want. Though I noticed at each corner of the blanket, a string was attached and the man held them in his hands as if the blanket was puppet. As Roy was purchasing a very fashionable pair of tortoise shell ‘Rey Bon’ sunglasses, I took notice of the countless stalls lined to our left. As I turned back around, the blanket of sunglasses had disappeared, and with the string in his hands, the man turned away with the blanket over his back. I then learned the stings make it easy for them to whip up their goods when the police are approaching, very odd to see, but I can’t help but laugh at how clever and practical it is.
We walked into the stunning Plaça Reial for a spot of lunch at Les Quinze Nits. The square has to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, palm trees are scattered all around and the building that creates the square resembles a palace. During lunch, as usual, I ate and drank too much, but the wine was worth it. It was the sweetest rosé I’d ever tasted. And we walked away without paying for one of the meals, as they forgot to charge us. Bonus.
We filled the last hour of our day with a bit of shopping, which I intend to make my first priority when I return one day. The train ride home seemed quite quick, and Uncle Roy fell asleep while doing his cross word, bless him.