***Special Guest Blog***

The Special Guest Blog will be written today by me, Minty. We were dropped in the centre of Barcelona last night at around 7pm, and made our way to the hostel which is a 15 minute metro ride to the eastern outskirts of Barcelona. The hostel we're residing at is called 'Be Hostels - Dream'. Lovely Lucy booked us a private room for our short stay here. This is the last time we can enjoy one another's company without the presence of an Aussie / Kiwi - Lucy and I cannot stress enough how many are here. A couple of our fellow bus riders were shocked that there were different nationalities on the bus, other than Australian. 

Lucy and I enjoyed some fantastic 'tapas' last night at a nearby restaurant. I was skeptical at first sight as it was staffed entirely by Chinese waiters, therefore fearing that our first meal was not going to be a traditional Spanish 'tapas' experience. But then we noticed that the majority of the patronage was made up of the neighborhoods families so we decided to continue, for which we were glad. We ordered several tapas dishes including 'Padrón Peppers', Galician Sausage and Lucys favourite of the night, Fried Potatoes with Ali Oli (garlic mayonnaise). It was a fantastic meal and was relatively cheap. Following this we walked down to the nearby beach and dipped our feet in the sea (with Lucy staying at a shallow depth for fear of a fish swimming in between her toes despite my assurances that no creature on earth would want to experience such trauma), which was a relaxing way to end the day.

We woke up this morning relatively early to catch the hostels free breakfast to fuel the long day ahead that we had planned. To my disappointment it was a continental breakfast, not a sausage in sight. When I told Lucy of my disappointment she gave me a stare that was colder than the milk provided at the counter and said 'What did you expect? It's free' along with the old Nicky Mint classic 'Well don't eat it then'. 

We started our day with a trip to Camp Nou, FC Barcelona's stadium. The exterior is nothing special in comparison to Arsenal's Emirates stadium or Man Utd's Old Trafford, but it seemed to fit in with the surrounding area, thus furthering the clubs Catalan motto 'més que un club'. One can see the influence that this club holds throughout the Catalan region, its deep roots in the area's history and community are evident upon arrival. Once you get inside you start to understand why they say it is the biggest club in the world. Lucy, the saint that she is, sacrificed her position on the tour as it was €16 each and decided to sit outside a cafe whilst I got a tour of the stadium. Whilst the exterior is nothing special the interior is phenomenal, boasting some Europe's greatest awards and trophies, a pitch that looks smoother than my bedroom carpet and a view that any football fan would kill for. It is a massive stadium, rivalled only in size by the Mosquito bite on Lucy's right leg. If only I had been here to see the '99 European Cup Final to witness United beat Bayern Munich in injury time, if only. ITV1's Clive Tyldsleys commentary echoed in my head as I looked out onto the pitch 'Giggs with the shot...SHERINGHAM!' as well as 'Beckham crosses, AND SOLSKJAER HAS WON IT!'. To this day it still makes the hair in the back of my neck stand up, it's sad, I know. A good tour overall, we'll see how Real Madrid's 'Santiago Bernebeu' compares when we get to Madrid. 

After the tour we got the metro to Parc  Güell, Gaudí's inventive half baked garden city. It truly is a strange area but beautiful nonetheless and has some of the most fantastic views over the rest of the city. Lucy and I commented that this was another great hilltop sight overlooking a city that we can add to our repertoire that we've been lucky enough to enjoy so far on this trip. 

After sauntering around the bizarre Parc Güell we got the metro to Las Ramblas, the dried up river bed as Lucy informed me. I have found that she is a rather good tour guide so far, she wanders around with me reading from her guide book, educating me on what I'm looking at and where I am. It's like walking around with Dave. It is a lively street and to cool down, Lucy and I went to another tapas restaurant. It was rather disappointing and if only you could have seen Lucy's face when she had her first mouthful of vegetable Paella - it had been made with fish stock. My face was probably worse when the bill arrived and saw that I had to cough up €10 for the two Cokes I had.  

Next on the agenda was Port Vell. Expensive yachts and catamarans fill the Marina. It was rather nice sitting together watching the world go by and chatting until Lucy got scared by the seagulls and pigeons which is usually a signal to move on. Anyone would have thought that Lucy had caught Bird Flu in Zante, not Swine Flu, with the way that she reacts when one of these winged beasts waddles up to us. 

Then we got the metro back to the hostel. To carry on the football related side to the blog, UK Public Transport 0-1 Rest of Europe Public Transport. Now that I've had the pleasure of travelling around some of Europe's public transport, especially underground railways, I'm sad to say that I'm ashamed of the public transport that is provided in the UK. The underground system here is fantastic. For both Lucy and me to make four journeys each around Barcelona, making several line changes in the process, it cost us less than a euro per journey. In total for today we spent €8 to get wherever we wanted around Barcelona as we bought a ticket that allowed us '10 journeys', and we still have 1 journey each left over which we can use tomorrow. Not only is it cheaper to travel, it's almost a joy. The carriages are clean, air conditioned and safe due to a large security presence. On one leg of our journey a security officer and her patrol dog boarded our carriage and at first I wasn't sure who was walking who. The sniffer dog that accompanied her wore a muzzle, though it was much more suited for it's handler - not a soul in Barcelona was planning to start mischief in her presence. Heightened security measures are understandable since the Madrid train bombings, London has suffered its own terrorist attacks and is yet to put a physical security force on the trains themselves.  I feel that Boris Johnson's 'Oyster/Mussel/Lobster Card' London Underground has a lot of catching up to do, especially as the Olympics draw ever closer. 

I can see that I have rambled slightly on that last point but felt it necessary as it has played on my mind throughout this trip and Lucy has allowed me this opportunity to speak my opinions. Hope you have enjoyed reading and maybe Lucy will allow me to write another before the trip is over. (No chance Oliver, your writing is putting me to shame. And also kind of insulting me and my completely rational fears .. and my lovely feet. More to love as I'm sure my regular readers will agree...) Hope all is well in the UK and Cape Verde. But as Brutus says in true Beckett style 'Enough, enough'.