Photo Credit: Carol Madigan

   The mistakes and missteps were beginning to pile up on this trip: The wrong date on the Figueres return ticket, saying “I’m bored” out loud. If you want to maintain a slacker’s approach to travel, you need to maintain an almost pristine record when it comes to screw-ups. Otherwise your slacker attitude will get all the blame for those mess ups. But today’s itinerary would give me a golden opportunity to cover my tracks. Good thing too, as it was to be our final day in Barcelona.

“Do all this without any whining, making sure all the directions were good and any tickets purchased were for the right day, would go a long way toward restoring my integrity as a reliable and agreeable travel companion.”

   The day began with a bus trip up one of Barcelona’s steeper slopes to another famous Gaudi creation, the Park Güell. From there Carol wanted to see the city’s version of the Arc de Triomphe. The day would conclude with another Gaudi renovated mansion. Do all this without any whining, making sure all the directions were good and any tickets purchased were for the right day, would go a long way toward restoring my integrity as a reliable and agreeable travel companion. Which would put me back in my comfort zone of pursuing a course of doing almost nothing, but making it seem like something. (I know. It shouldn’t work, but remarkably it usually does.)

   Park Güell was originally built as a public park, but these days they charge admission and limit entry. Much to my feigned disappointment, the Park was sold out for the day by the time we arrived. Honestly, though, once Carol saw how much climbing would be involved in exploring the park, I’m not sure she was all that disappointed we couldn’t get in. Instead we had a Gelato and a long walk (downhill) to the metro station that would deliver us to Barcelona’s Arco de Triunfo.

   Hoping to find it ensconced in scaffolding, thus making for a quick exit, the Arco instead stood in all its finished resplendence. It anchored a paved promenade that happily offered plenty of benches for me to seat myself, while Carol promenaded. I was having a good day, and it was about to get better.

   On a leafy boulevard off the Arco was a wicker-chair café that turned out to be the home base for a renowned sangria, Lolea, that Carol had heard of. A half-pitcher of that for her and a bottle of white for me along with some meaty tapas, and that was our afternoon. Turns out I had scored so well on the park and the arc that I was granted an exemption from the Gaudi house (Casa Battlo) that was to be our next and last stop for the day. 

   And this is how we spent our last day in Barcelona. Carol felt she’d seen and done all she’d wanted to, and I was happy I hadn’t ruined any of it for her. Barcelona showed us that we’re very different travelers, but are melding into very compatible travel companions. Carol sees me trying valiantly to take it up a notch when it’s called for, and I see her powering down when she senses I’ve had enough of sightseeing and enrichment for one day. 

   And now it’s on to Madrid, Seville and Lisbon, with Carol full of expectations of what all those cities will bring, and me looking forward to all the light and easy days that will hopefully fall in between.