Picture this: girl waits, in the freezing rain of a large street in Barcelona for the shuttle (costing as much as the pre-tax price of her cheap airline ticket to Paris) that will take her to the tiny airport of Girona, on her way to the small airport of Beauvais. She is amidst many travelers who have also paid very little for their flight and are waiting for the bus. Bus after bus, over-full, pass by and people start yelling, or stuff their suitcases violently in the trunk to assure themselves a place in this bus of all buses.
After a freezing half hour, she gets on the bus, an hour and 20 minute ride to the airport, arrives, gets in the line, and after a bit of a wait, finds out from the Catalan-speaking person behind the same airline desk as in every aiport in the world, that she´s 24 hours EARLY for her flight.
I booked a 15-Euro room in a clean “Pension” and slept in. An extra day to sight-see…
Girona is a strange little village, beautiful pink and yellow appartment buildings of a few stories high shooting straight down into the small river, wth many little bridges crossing over the greenish shallow waters. Small, at the end of real two-lane middle-of-nowhere country roads but with expensive shops and high prices. Like a landlocked resort for rich Barcelonians? I can´t figure it out…the tourist industry isn´t exactly booming. So I wonder where all the money comes from.
Last night I ate a cheap meal of 4 fried fish and an assortment of over-boiled veggies after wandering the near-freezing deserted streets where a punk circus artist called attention to no-one (it was before I passed him) juggling fire torches, and balancing his cap on his nose while riding a unicycle.
Imagine passing a fire juggler in a totally deserted street. I suppose it carried me through the rest of the night, limping and wondering where he came from and what possessed him to perform for no audience.
Catalan and Castellano mix behind me, as I remember the submaine buildings of Gaudi, and rest my bruised ankle, looking at the poster-board in this cafe, full of information for people other than me, like the “espacio de ioga” for those who want to limber up, and the choregraphic concert.
The Girona waterfront: