Monday July 26th.
The problem with my anger is that I can never sustain it. When it’s done it’s done and as far as I am concerned we just move on ( and tend to the wounded.) So I am quite surprised to find I am still in a mood this morning. Most unlike me. Maybe it’s the strain of never having a minute alone with my husband. This morning Tony gets a text that Philly….my youngest stepdaughter, is flying to Rome and will then join us in Provence. It will be wonderful to see her but bang goes our last few days in Provence, and she will probably come to Paris with us. C’est la vie. It is what it is. Adapt!
Tony and I are not really the “see the sights and snap pictures from the top of a tour bus” type but with limited time we opt to accompany Anne and Eric and do just that. Somehow I swallowed my better judgement...which hasn't been too great of late .... and convinced myself it would be FUN! The fellers buy fresh bread and I make crusty rolls with the charcuterie we brought with us. Eric makes his and Anne’s as they are bit fussier than us about food. So it’s off to get the Barcelona city tour bus and sit on the open top deck in scorching heat. The tour takes 2hours and there's plenty to see, but we don't get off at any of the stops....even though you can hop back on the next bus....and there's ALWAYS a next bus. We stay on and we sit through another half hour repeat to get off and go to Mount Tibidabo, where we plan to have lunch. Except I am starving and my blood sugars are falling - and Anne is already eating her roll. Why? Because she’s hungry of course! But Tony doesn’t want me to eat mine because it will spoil the picnic! I eat it anyway and by the time we get off at Tibidabo Im VERY EDGY!!!!! Hissy fit approaching at the speed of light. I need a cold drink and a bathroom and at least there’s a little square with an open air café and some public toilets which I point out to Tony. But he has set his mind on a café across the road and steers me in that direction. And then I lose it! I am NOT going to be taken somplace else where I don't want to go. Like a hild I tell them to go without me as I don't want to be anywhere near my controlling husband right now. All of them....Tony especially, are shocked and taken aback. Not pleasant…but it has been a while coming. I storm off to the park, Tony storms off to the flat, taking Eric’s lunch with him and poor Anne and Eric are caught in the middle of a nasty domestic.
I sit for half an hour in the park and compose myself and drink a lemon Granita to get my sugars up. Then I go on the little blue tram which has run for over 100 years and join Anne and Eric halfway up the mountain where we take the Furnicular to the top. They’re embarrassed and annoyed….rightly so. When I see at the top that there are hundreds of steps up to the church, I give up and take the furnicular back down and catch the next Barcelona tour bus. I’m tired…half eaten by mozzies, and sunburnt! It’s a fair walk from the bus-stop and I just want to collapse and rest. But I don’t have a key to the flat and I hammer and bang for 20 minutes before Tony wakes up and lets me in. We talk about what happened and I explain why, to me, this trip of a lifetime is rapidly turning to crap. Neither of us wants that. We love each other and we’re usually so in sync with each other. But when we are out of sync….we are WAAAAAAAAAAAY out of sync. But at least we talk, and we’re honest, and there’s no name calling or nasties. I nap for an hour and Anne and Eric still aren’t back. So we shower and dress and head for La Rambla and the Gothic area.
And guess what? That’s where Spain has been hiding all the time! Yjis is more our scene....we're mixing it with the people...not observing it from afar. We watch some great Flamenco - have food in a sports bar and then head downstairs to a GREAT jazz cellar with an awesome band called……wait for it….”What The Fuck?” very appropriate given the last few days. Great line-up, fine musicians and a terrific drummer - the best we’ve seen in many a long year. We walk hand in hand across the Placa Reial and savour the joy of just being alone together. It’s been a great night and my faith in both Spain and my husband has been restored. When we get home we discover Eric has finally found Churros ( Churros bars are plentiful in Australia - but it’s hard to find them in Barcelona) and has left them in a bag hanging on our door. Yummy - but lousy for my sugars. Still, I’ll sleep well tonight.
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