The inauguration of our 25-day odyssey commenced in Barcelona, where the agenda seemed straightforward – retrieve our reserved campervan from Road Surfer. But the universe had a different script to unfold. Our two-hour-long march was punctuated by numerous public transit switch-overs. The journey was complicated by Google not knowing that the schedules are very limited on Sundays. If it wasn't for extremely helpful locals and my rudimentary Spanish, we never would have made it. The two hour + journey in the hot sun eventually led us to an empty office, locked gates with no phone number posted. Road Surfer, with no phone or email service, was a phantom. The Road Surfer support email autoreply said that it could take 7 days to get a response!🙃 A benevolent neighbor who happened to be working, lent a helping hand by contacting a former employee of Road Surfer. But even his intervention bore no fruit. That's right. We talked to a neighbor who knew someone who used to work at Road Surfer and called them for us. But, "Domingo ... no es posible." Sunday's siesta in Spain is real.
In hindsight (writing this a couple of days later), you don't want to schedule your pickup for Saturday afternoon because even a slight hiccup with your schedule will mean you can't get your vehicle until Monday. Don't try to go somewhere to do some business during the middle of the day on Sunday, if you aren't sure if the business is open - it's probably not 🙂
Rebuffed at Road Surfer, we trudged through the barren industrial zone, an alien landscape under the merciless Spanish sun. The miles piled on, our journey felt eternal. We may have walked 20 miles in total this day. To our dismay, the city buses were sporadic at best, bypassing most of the bus stops. Uber and taxis proved futile, as if we were in the middle of a forsaken industrial wasteland. The day was a brutal test of endurance. We huddled against every little tree and sign to get a little bit of shade. We found solace in the linguistic diversion of conjugating the Mexican word "chingar" for amusement. Yes, "El sol nos chinga" – the sun was indeed screwing us over. On the positive side, we laughed a lot and Azhr's Spanish took a leap forward (Mexican Spanish 😅).
In the heart of this industrial wilderness was our obligatory oasis – McDonald's. We needed it not for food but for hydration and the survival of our electronics. The navigation and translation apps had guzzled up the phone's battery, rendering it almost lifeless. Azhr endured a Happy Meal, while I maintained my fast. We were on the edge of hope, clinging to hysterical laughter like a life vest amidst the waves of desperation. My attempts to infuse optimism in Azhr were mere facades, as I teetered on the brink of despair. My mind wandered back to the comforts of our home, questioning the very purpose of this torturous endeavor.
From Hell to Heaven
Fate finally relented, presenting us with an operating bus stop. We scurried onto the bus without any clue about its trajectory. We longed for either the familiar setting of our hotel on Barcelona's outskirts or the vibrant city center—anything but the scorching industrial hinterland. We watched the bus route closely, hoping it wouldn't deviate into undesired quarters.
As we drifted away from our hotel and closer to the iconic Sagrada Familia, we felt a glimmer of hope. The bus stopped at Plaza Espana and I thought "this is good enough." The architectural marvels all around sparked a sense of wonder in our weary hearts. At one point, Azhr said, "but, seriously, what is there to be optimistic about?" I raised up my hands, motioning all around. "We're some of the luckiest people in the entire world. This is one of the greatest places on earth!" We were tired and burnt. But, the bustling city energy began to revive us. We hydrated from a basic water fountain and sought shelter under the shade near Fira International de Barcelona. I asked GPT a few questions about the locale, to plan our next move. We began to feel the welcome presence of possible adventures - and not the kind where you walk many miles in the hot sun in a deserted industrial zone.
Recharged by the city's vibrance, we ascended the Arenas de Barcelona to savor the panoramic view and see about getting some food. After walking the entire top twice examining menus, we decided that "Abrássame" looked great. Every restaurant looked great. But, we liked that Abrassame wasn't trying to hard to cater to English speakers. We didn't want to go to a place that had the word "Steakhouse" printed on the side. This is the second time in Barcelona and I love places that give menus in English, Catalán and Spanish. It's fun to triangulate and learn some Catalán.
The food and service at Abrassame were beyond fantastic. The staff was lovely. And the food was absolutely increíble. We indulged in a culinary masterpiece of croquettas caseras de jamón ibérico, four local oysters, and a seafood paella. The exquisite meal coupled with the stunning view was like a gust of wind beneath our wings. Our spirits lifted further with Azhr's dessert, a divine concoction of homemade brownie and vanilla ice cream. I had never realized it before but I'm pretty sure that the word "restaurante" has a strong relation to the word "restauración." Finally, I came to a genuine life lesson about optimism that wasn't contrived. "Que cambios tiene la vida." - What changes life has. We had gone from the verge of complete hopelessness to unmitigated bliss in less than two hours! The vitamin B12 and minerals in the oysters and mussles (mejillones) kicked in and profound contentment settled in.
En una rancha
The Arenas de Barcelona are really freaking cool. Azhr really started to understand what I was talking about when I spoke so glowingly of Catalunya before the trip. After nothing but airports, missed connections, industrial parks and a truckstop hotel for 2 days, I think he was really starting to doubt that Spain had much to offer 😅.
We had a splash of fun when we played with some dogs near the "woman and bird" statue. Riding the wave of our rejuvenated luck, we navigated to the Estació de Sants and hopped on a train that went almost directly to our hotel, not a second to spare. I read the board and saw that our train was leaving in 3 minutes. I bought tickets with some apparent fluency, quickly found the right platform and we dashed onto the train right before the doors closed. We engaged in Spanish chit-chat with the locals, assuring we were on the right track. It was almost like I knew what I was doing! 😂
Despite the campervan debacle and Road Surfer's lack of customer service, the day took a dramatic turn for the better. As we prepared to sleep, the prospect of revisiting Road Surfer the next day felt like a less daunting task. I fell asleep acknowledging the ironic twists and turns of life. After all, "que cambios tiene la vida."