Day 08 Barcelona: We Made It

Where were you on Sunday morning at 6:25 A.M.?
Donna and I were standing on the quiet streets of Monte Carlo, loading our luggage into an Uber bound for the Nice, France airport. Less than six hours stood between us and completing Leg #2 — Vienna to Barcelona in eight days.

We tried to sleep. We really did. But you know how that goes when you’re worried about missing an early alarm — you wake up every hour on the hour, checking your phone, even though you set three alarms just to be safe.

The night before, everything was already packed. We were in full ready, set, go mode. We even brought some food from the fridge to eat at the airport while waiting for our 10:00 A.M. easyJet flight to Barcelona. Our Uber ride went smoothly, and we arrived at Nice with plenty of time. Knowing the plane would be small, we decided to check our carry-ons. It just felt easier.

So we waited. We snacked. We people-watched.

We were seated in Row 1, seats A & B, right by the door. People streamed past us, and at some point I realized I had taken over 50 photos — just legs, shoes, backpacks. No faces. No identities. I hope someday to print them all and let them live as a quiet story of wonder: Where are they coming from? Where are they going?

While the story of Donna and Paul’s last eight days mattered deeply to us, there were dozens of other stories unfolding on that plane. It felt like the opening scenes of a movie — separate lives, separate histories — all converging in one place. Donna and I got hooked on the TV series Lost years ago, and for a moment it felt a little like that… except spoiler alert: we did not end up on an island pushing a red button.

The flight itself was uneventful. The flight attendants sat in the jump seats directly in front of us, and we chatted a bit. They had just received new uniforms. I’ll admit, I’m a little concerned about non-Velcro neck scarves from a safety standpoint — and the design felt retro in a not-so-good way. Sorry, easyJet. It didn’t quite work for me.

We touched down smoothly in Barcelona and collected our luggage without issue. And then… it happened.

We were expecting our transfer driver to be waiting with a sign that read “Paul & Donna Gruhn.” There were plenty of signs — just not ours. Families reunited. Hugs and kisses exchanged. Lives continued. Within twenty minutes, the terminal was nearly empty. Even the pilots and flight attendants paused on their way out to see if we were okay.

For the record: Donna was not happy at this point.

Finally — about thirty minutes late — a very apologetic older gentleman pulled up in his Mercedes and greeted us. The drive to the Vincci Hotel was smooth and pleasant. He shared stories about the area and recommended a nearby tapas restaurant called Catalana. Perfect timing. Having tapas in Barcelona had long been on my bucket list.

We arrived at the hotel early. Our room wasn’t ready — no surprise — so we left our luggage at the front desk, plugged Catalana into Google Maps, and headed out.

We had an amazing meal. Our waiter helped us choose a great Spanish beer to go with the parade of tapas we tried. I loved tasting a bit of this and a bit of that. I’m officially a tapas fan.

We always love arriving in a new city during daylight. That first walk helps us get our bearings. The architecture was stunning. The streets were alive. And of course — people watching.

Across the street from us, a young couple waited at a crosswalk. The man carried two wicker chairs over his head, price tags still attached. While they waited for the light to change, she slipped underneath what at first glance looked like umbrellas. They shared a kiss right there on a Barcelona street corner. I smiled for them — and managed to capture the moment with a quick click of the shutter.

Sometimes, photographers just get lucky.

Back at the Vincci Hotel, we learned our room had been upgraded — and yes, we love free upgrades. I explored the top floor where breakfast would be served in the morning: modern, elegant, and welcoming. I stepped out onto the balcony and took a few photos of Barcelona at night.

Now it was finally time for bed.

Barcelona in eight days — we made it.
Leg #2 complete.

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