I suppose we entered holiday mode the previous evening when we attended the Gran Canaria Big Band performance in Los Cristianos. The evening featured the absolutely incredible talents of Gunhild Carling, a Swedish dynamo who sang, tap-danced, played nearly every instrument, even pulled out a bagpipe whilst leading the band through a fantastic evening of Swing.
Our cruise starts and finishes in Barcelona, so it’s just an internal flight which in turn means we use TFN – not because there are no flights from TFS, our local airport, but there are many more times available from the North. After reading the meters, and updating my spreadsheets, we take a leisurely breakfast, and then head off to Santa Cruz.
We intentionally set off early so we have time to stop at Auditorio de Tenerife to pick up our next season’s opera tickets.
Santa Cruz is gridlocked today. We wait for ages just to get into the Auditorio’s nearby car park, from the hundreds of spaces I can only find one bay, which is actually for EV charging so I’m on the right page, but slightly naughty and use it, remaining in the car should someone actually want to charge – I can move and just drive round whilst the hubby fetches our tickets. It’s notable that several other bays are occupied by ICE cars – this is Spain so rules are optional.
We thought we’d drive along the costal road a while, park up and get a short walkies, but the time frame deteriorates badly and we’re left with no time at all, so just drive up to TFN to park and walk the ¼ mile to the terminal building.
Checkin takes longer than expected, although security is super-fast, we grab lunch and before long the flight is called. Everything is rushed, but we’re sat on the plane and that’s the point of a travel day so mustn’t grumble.
We fly into Barcelona over the cruise port, and get a fabulous view of MSC’s World Europa leaving. Just three hours after leaving Tenerife we’re awaiting our bags – which take forever. Tracking them is like watching a snail move, over forty minutes to make the ⅓ mile from plane to carousel.
The car service is another disappointment, no friendly driver is awaiting us, we find the “representative” who tells us our driver is on his way, later he takes us up to departures to find him. The driver utters a single grunt and that’s it, we’re propelled towards our hotel, excessive acceleration and breaking throughout, curious lane discipline and did I mention the smell? Not a transfer we want to replicate any time soon!
We think our hotel is quite bijou but that’s fine we love the old and quirky buildings, crazy staircases and cute lift. Our room is a long corridor, and even has a patio even though it’s an inside room. However we later find its quite a sprawling affair with some fabulous history.
We wander up the main street from Plaça Catalunya, not quite, but effectively the continuation of La Rambla. Our destination is El Nacional, the former theatre turned textile factory turned motor dealership now a gastronomical extravaganza.
There are numerous eateries to choose from – we are looking for something simple tonight and opt for mostly Italian, apart from the Spanish cheeses we start with. Then it’s mozzarella and rocket flatbed and finally roast meat ravioli / veal bolognaise.
As we return we see a huge group of rollerbladers go by, absolutely no idea why!
