Barcelona life – Pride weekend!

The shindig on Thursday night was only the beginning!

Pride weekend proper here in Barcelona begins on Friday. Thus it is that, after recovering from the Thursday night bash at Placa Universitat, and teaching my solitary Friday afternoon class at Arc de Triomf, I remember that Paolo said there was yet another party on Friday at Placa Reial, just off La Rambla. Pride or not, you’re never far from a free party in Barcelona! Continue reading “Barcelona life – Pride weekend!”

Barcelona – a week in the life

So ok – I’m back at Bar Berlin, in the lengthy break between faraway classes I have every Thursday. These two, Abertis and Bayer Pharmaceuticals, are so far out (but in the same direction), that it’s not worth me going home for the two and a half hours between them. It is, however, an excellent chance to enjoy a cervesa in the sunshine, and write a blog post!

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Barcelona life – the beer

The beer here isn’t cheap. Most places you go to, they only have that continental lager, the sort of stuff that, if you’re an ale snob like me, you’d turn your nose up at anywhere in England. Thing is, it works here. It’s so warm so much of the time that your classic nearly warm pint of Scruttock’s Old Dirigible, with the twigs and the bits of beak still in it, wouldn’t be all that refreshing. A glass of Estrella, though, chilled near to freezing, is about the most perfect alcoholic beverage in this climate.

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Barcelona life – five months in

Summer in Barcelona. I’m sitting in the sunshine outside a slightly shabby Cerveseria grandly named ‘Bar Berlin’, having a cheeky beer between teaching classes, and it occurs to me I haven’t written anything about the place for months. In fact, not since that first day of the CELTA course.

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Barcelona – the CELTA course, day 1

It’s a civilised start for the first day of my CELTA course – it begins at 11am. Plenty of time for a bit of a lie in and a leisurely stroll to Oxford House TEFL language school. It’s easy to find; a couple of minutes walk to the next left turn off Carrer de la Marina, then just a long schlep down Carrer de la Disputacio. All told, it takes about twenty minutes. I don’t think I’ll be bothering with the Metro for this journey at all.

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Barcelona – weekend before the work begins

My story continues… now.

Arriving at the unfortunately named Barcelona El Prat airport, I encounter my first bit of Spanish efficiency as I board the train to town. The train pulls out, slows down, then stops. For ages. Eventually it starts to move, slowly. Then stops. For ages.

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Barcelona – the road back

And so, I’m back in Barcelona.

It’s been a mad few months since the end of the Big Trip, during which my outlook on life totally changed, along with my plans for the future. After the emotionally draining but vital week I spent here in October, I got a lot of things straight in my head, and made a lot of Big Decisions. Yes, I was going to get a tattoo.

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