1999 Africa: Barcelona

    1999 Africa: Barcelona

    Barcelona

    ……………………………………

    1999 Africa: Barcelona

    The train from the airport to downtown Barcelona has less than a half-dozen stops, in a short time we were off and above-ground. We emerged at the edge of a park in the middle of the city, a block away from the start of the pedestrian path through the older part of the city, the Rampala.

    The weather had mellowed since we’d left the airport: jackets could be opened, and for San Franciscians it was springtime pleasant (although I did get some very strange stares from a group of warmly clad Africans).

    Lining both sides of the walkway were vendors, their stocks of tropical birds and fish, gerbils, chinchilla, goldfish, and pet toys attracting tourists and locals. I presume the buyers are the locals; I can’t imagine tourists deciding to buy a chinchilla – or anything else for that matter – on a trip. The screeching of the mynahs, parrots, and cuckatoos was repeated, stall after stall.

    We walked the Rampala from the city center towards the waterfront at a very leisurely pace, enjoying the warm(er) weather, the faces of those around us, the sights and sounds of Barcelona. At some intersections the side alleys receeded into infinity, narrow pathways filled with visitors but nothing wider than a small motor-scooter.

    After a short time we espied an open area backed by a cavernous building, something which appeared to be an out-of-place aircraft hanger. It was a wonderful .

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