I have to admit that my entire time in Barcelona was spent on a stag doo (US Translation Bachelor Party). For those of you non-Britons not aware of this phenomenon, in England it means that you go to another country to irritate the locals, force feed the future groom alcohol until he is physically sick, and go to various establishments where you pay lots of women inordinate amounts of money to take all their clothes off. You then wake up with the feeling that a little man has bashed you on the head and stole all your money (highly likely in Barcelona). Thus this review of Barcelona will seem superficial in terms of buildings I visited, and I’m not going to be talking about any museums. Barcelona was voted the best city for a mini break by somebody or other. I guess because you have some beaches and a big city to stay in at the same time. This isn’t unique in the world – Rio springs to mind, and the beaches are much nicer in other parts of Spain, especially the South. I really wouldn’t go as far as to say Barcelona is the best city in the world, I wouldn’t even say it was nice, it’s dirty, sleazy and run down in parts but does have some attractions I found interesting. If you’re an architecture fiend then Gaudi’s work is probably the highlight of the place. Barcelona is OK for a short break but I’d probably go to Madrid next time.

The airport in Barcelona is pretty good. Getting out of it took seconds, especially as I was carting my entire weekends supply of clothes in hand luggage. In light of recent events it probably won’t be as quick to get through to the exit, but it’s still a good airport. Regarding terrorism on planes I’m with Dennis Miller on this one. If I’m ever on a plane and a guy who looks like the shoe bomber gets on and sits down next to me, I’m going to call the stewardess over and say, “Excuse me honey, but if this f**ker isn’t the harmonica player for the J. Geils Band, I want him off the plane right now! Okay? You know, this had better be Jeff Goldblum on a 3 day meth bender, 'cause I don't trust anybody in Converse black hightops who isn't playing small forward for the '64 Celtics!" The main lounge has a bewildering array of duty free shops and clothing stores. Stores include Calvin Klein, Burberry, numerous jewellery stores, and the usual Aldeasa duty free. The food isn’t that great though, it’s really hard to buy anything except a lousy tasting hot dog. If you’re a British Airways passenger, you have to go to the Iberia business class lounge, as BA doesn’t have its own Club lounge. The Iberia lounge is very good but pretty hard to find if you clear the baggage scanners and involves quite a walk to your gate. There is the usual array of free drinks, comfortable seats and shower facilities. You can also smoke in part of it, which was handy when my plane got delayed. The taxi into town usually costs about 25 euros.

Other good transport systems in Barcelona are the excellent underground system. Provided you can actually buy a ticket this mass transit facility is one of the best things about Barcelona. The ticket machines are a real pain as they absolutely refuse to accept British Credit cards – Visa, Mastercard, American Express; none of these work in the machines. It’s also pretty expensive as you can’t buy a 1-day travel card, but have to have a two-day card minimum. This runs to just over 20euros, which is a bit steep… even to those of us who live in London and are used to paying for their public transport in pounds of flesh. The great thing about the Underground system in Barcelona is that the trains are air conditioned, quick and frequent. The system seems new so there doesn’t seem to be any delays due to track maintenance. We used the underground system to get to the shops in the Passeig de Gracia and Placa Catalunya. There is a fairly good department store called El Corte Ingles where I picked up a pair of Rockport loafers and a buddy got a nice blue jacket. There was a sale on so it was pretty good value for money. Most of the cooler stores are found round the bottom end of town though off the Rambla road and in the Gothic Quarter; the top end of town is for big names and department stores. Other forms of transport include a cable car that departs from the docks and goes up to the Montjuic castle. One point to consider, when you get on the cable car you have to get off again and buy another ticket for the last part of the trip up the hill, which is rather irritating. Still the view is excellent.

The town of Barcelona has a decaying feel that even the new areas of town fail to camouflage. In many respects the place had that feel of South America. The squares and streets are redolent of streets you find in the more developed parts of South America, which is amazing considering the amount of cash Spain has received from the EU (more later!). Whilst they are in most cases pretty, they still have a decaying and unkempt feel. Public Squares that need a good weeding and trim, narrow streets with buildings that have wear and tear of not being repaired since the Spanish Civil War. Barcelona was on the loosing side of the war fought between the unpleasant Franco, manipulated by Hitler and Mussolini; and the equally unpleasant Republicans manipulated by Stalin. Both sides carried out massacres and summary executions on a grand scale despite the best efforts of Ken Loach and other terrorist supporters to portray the Republicans as saints. The nationalists shot peasants and Trade Unionists, the Republicans shot Priests and landowners; about 25000 each at the beginning of the war, and countless more on both sides as the war went on. The Spanish Civil war is unusual in that it is the only war in history where the losers wrote the history, as the internationalists counted Orwell (who based 1984 on his experiences of how the Communists treated their own side)) and supporters like Hemingway and of course Picasso whose most famous image of the war Guernica is probably the only item of modern culture that is associated with the civil war. The Nationalists had the anti-Semitic traitor Ezra Pound and Dali as their supporters.

The most overpowering smell you feel in Barcelona in the summer is the smell of urine. To be fair on the Spanish, this is probably due to the hoards of drunken tourists they receive rather than the fault of their public sanitation systems, but it really puts you off the place. Not all of Barcelona is run down, the Gothic quarter is in very good condition and has some great churches and restaurants. Most of the food is standard western food, but you can of course have a go at the famous Spanish Paella that comes from the Latin patella meaning Frying Pan. The most common variety course consists of Muscles, chicken and prawns with Arborio rice. It is simply something you have to eat at least once in Spain despite the Spanish disgraceful over fishing of every sea they are found in. In fact the recent mass migration from Saharan Africa and the resulting dead Africans being washed up on the beaches of Andalucia is a direct result of the EU encouraging the Spanish and Portuguese to over fish the coast of Africa, having already destroyed the seas of the Mediterranean and British Atlantic waters driving these migrants in part to Europe. Still Paella is absolutely delicious, you might as well eat it in it’s spiritual home.

I was put in an incredibly bad mood from the get-go of my little tour of Spain by being directed originally to the wrong building, being told the Stag party was in a bar on the roof of the IMAX theatre. After searching the IMAX theatre several times and after numerous annoyed phone calls to the organiser I phoned again spewing invective. I was then informed the place they were was actually situated was at the other side of the complex several hundred metres and several buildings away from the edifice I had searched from top to bottom. I do not understand why people are incapable of giving accurate instructions on where to meet. I know I was in the Army where you are trained not to say “We’re attacking in a Northerly direction, starting from some trees and heading to a farmhouse around 4pm but turn up when you feel like it” but the street name, name of the bar, distances, time of meeting and prominent landmarks you will pass is not beyond people. The Imax complex and other buildings round it are all pretty bland, and aren’t really anywhere you feel like you’re enjoying anything remotely like Spanish culture.

The bar on the first night we started at was situated in this complex. It was a wide-open modern bar with absolutely zero character and didn’t sell proper champagne. I had to make do with some Spanish Cava type bubbly which although tolerably drinkable isn’t the same as drinking the proper French stuff. I really like Spanish Reds, especially their famous Rioja, but their fizzy stuff isn’t that special. Besides, as a stupendous crashing snob it doesn’t have the prestige and history that - like the pretentious fool one is – one buys it for. Whilst I was still relatively sober, the future groom was quite drunk by this point and proceeded to annoy the Irish band that was playing. He said “hand over the guitar, I’ll show you how it was done” and then promptly proceeded to sing. The noise that emanated from his mouth was akin in sound to a donkey suffering from laryngitis and a traffic cone stuck up its backside. I have never heard such an unholy sound in all my life. The rest of the Bar was in hysterics; unfortunately the band lacked the famous Irish sense of humour and refused to play any more until he was removed from the stage. I got talking to some Finns who were quite entertaining, and the pretty but excessively tattooed ladies who were serving drinks. Most of them came from Germany.

Most of the bars we visited were down at the Puerto Olympico part of the city. Barcelona – as you may have figured out by now received oodles of cash from a Spanish government the Catalans have little love for by winning the Olympics. Some of this went to develop some swanky bars down in the previously run down docks area. I have to say that they have done a good job with the bars. They are brash, loud, pumping music and a lot of fun. They are also pretty expensive and a bottle of Moet & Chandon – rather an inferior but abstrusely famous non-vintage French Champagne with a harsh taste will run to 60 GBP in Espania, a bottle of which will cost you 35GBP in most bars in London. The entire downstairs is rammed with bars inviting you in. I can’t remember the names of any of these places, apart from Coyote Ugly that is named after the famous bar in New York; but I don’t feel that this is a problem as they are all pretty much the same. You have to be warned that the Spanish have dress codes for some of their bars – although god only knows why - so if you pitch up in sandals they will throw your tofu eating backside straight out. This even applies if you need the toilet after drinking pints and pints of their overpriced warm lager in the seats outside for which there is no dress code. One place that seems to have absolutely zero dress code is the Baha Beach Club which gets models to serve you drinks in very small bikinis or beach shorts. This business strategy seems to be rather successful as the large clientele certainly aren’t there for the food or fine cocktails. One amusing aspect of the place is that if you pay one of the models some money she will let you lick squirty cream off her stomach. She then blows a whistle a few times and throws paper napkins in the air. I found the whistle blowing and napkin throwing extraneous and vulgar after the beauty and simplicity of the squirty cream-licking bit; why try and top perfection? In conclusion, I loved the Baha Beach Club.

The Hotel we stayed at was a tolerable 3 star establishment situated close to The Ramballas street and the IMAX theatre complex. It was called the Hotel Hesperia Metropol and was a 3 star establishment. As I told the organiser of the Stag, I don’t send my luggage to stay in a 3 star; his argument was that we wouldn’t spend any time there as we were out getting drunk, I said that this wasn’t the point. I was then told that if I didn’t like it I could book another room for myself; I was very very tempted. When one enters the lobby the hotel has the feel of one of the swanky new design/boutique hotels that have spread across the “Funky” cities of the world. If any hotel you consider booking has the word “design” in it, it means that the rooms will be as sanitised and charismatic as a room in the local nut ward, without the fun of being able to bounce yourself off the rubber wallpaper. All white, No stuff on the wall save one piece of modern art rubbish, beds that feel like you’re sleeping on the floor and a shower you can’t turn on and a khazi you can’t flush as they’ve hidden the taps in the design of the hi-tech postmodernist bull**** walls.

Thankfully the Hotel Hesperia Metropol doesn’t have these lofty pretentious aspirations, and merely provides you a bed and a fairly good bathroom. You get a shower and a bath, running water (believe me, not all the hotels I’ve stayed in have this fitted as standard). The Air Conditioning was about as useful as breasts on a fish, dribbling out miserly periods of tepid air in-between refusing to work like a petulant two year old. After being used to visiting hotels in the Colonies, anything that isn’t US Meat locker AC is quite frankly something of a disappointment. It had satellite TV, a Mini-Bar, a safe and a pretty good breakfast, which is a continental meal with the usual bread, ham, cheese and other bits and pieces you get with the meal. If you do stay there, don’t mention my name, as the Groom didn’t exactly cover himself with glory and honours whilst staying there.

Warning Thieving Bastards!

The cases of theft in Barcelona are like a virus, they’re spread all over the shop. The best man in our party got robbed of his Mobile Phone, Wallet and Money. The Spanish in their infinite wisdom have decreed that Theft without violence will be treated as a misdemeanour, and as such theft has gone through the roof in this (and other) cities. They tried to rob me too (at a different time and place, 3 hours later. Some random bloke came up to me and tried to hug me acting very drunk, and started talking about football. His mate stood to one side and pretended that he was annoyed with his mate. Since I was now sober I knew what was going on and my hands went straight to my wallet and phone, which I managed to keep hold of. I think he managed to get 20 euros, but it could have been 10 euros, it was all that remained from my cab fare. Two of us out of our group of 10 being robbed in the space of one night is indicative of the bunch of pikeys that inhabit this place. When you go out in Barcelona DO NOT take all your credit cards, leave all of them bar one in your hotel safe. Try not to take your mobile phone out with you if at all possible. I cannot stress the point enough that this type of crime is endemic and somebody will try to rob you. I would also be wary of the Spanish Police; they’re big with trying to frame tourists from the UK, Canadians and US citizens or subjects with crimes that they have carried out with the collaboration of criminals. A friend of my sister has had to postpone his wedding after being fitted up by the Spanish police; he was denied consular protection, legal advice and made to stand in stress positions. If he’d tried to blow something up then fair enough, but punching a guy out who drove into them with a scooter is overkill. The Police and scooter driver were having a good laugh about it whilst the Brits were locked up next door. Other than the Police and the thieves, the rest of the Spanish people I met were very nice. Whilst they were hard on the road traffic accident victim; Spain’s history on standing up to Terrorism is nowhere near as severe or admirable as the zeal they exhibit prosecuting tourists. Indeed after the Madrid bombings they exhibited all the backbone of the squid they habitually over fish in other countries waters.

More theft!
Of course this level of robbery is the amateur end of the thievery scale. If you want to see the full rapacious greed and dishonesty that mankind is capable of you naturally have to look past the sole trader and to the national corporation of greed – government. Or more importantly the begging and thievery that is practiced by the Spanish on other people in Europe. Believe me, the Spanish have made welfare their speciality. The reason I mention this is because of a particularly unpleasant Spanish individual being stuck next to me on a bus in Uruguay. I remember Pedro the Smug having the gall to fart on about how great his train and road systems are (which we paid for with EU subsidies to him) in between moaning how lousy the South Americans transport system was. Of course he failed to recognise this was because the Spanish Empire was the most parasitic of all Empires bar the Belgian Congo, they took everything and gave the square root of nothing, and that Spain sucks on the tit of the EU in exactly the same way it sucked on the gold of the New World. He also said Spain was more democratic than Britain (which is a bit rich since they only got rid of a Fascist on his death in the 1970’s) and how Spain was more forward looking than Britain because it supported the EU – unlike Britain not financially of course. After of half an hour’s blather from this guy I wish I had pretended to be Icelandic or something. Note to self – stop striking up conversations with total strangers. Most Spanish people are friendly enough though, this guy was probably the exception. For those of you that are interested in economics Spain is a net recipient of 7.9 billion Euros in EU aid 2004, and you can bet that it’s not any less this year. They are the largest net benefactors by nation of the EU taxpayers’ largess (although not per head as Ireland – one of the richest EU countries now, and Luxembourg get more cash thrown at them).

The Segada Familia.

They’ve been building this church for over a century now, which means as far as Spanish building is concerned the construction is bang on schedule. I don’t understand what’s with the funny coloured balls that are stacked up in a few big pyramid shaped blobs of colour on top of some of the steeples of the church. I guess they symbolised the plastic balls you find in the plastic ball pools of a children’s indoor play area, which in turn symbolise Jesus’ love for little children. It’s the only theory thing I could come up with. I heard this building was very beautiful and impressive, they were half right. The architecture is a wonder, and if they finally get round to making the inside as interesting as the outside then I’m sure this will be one of the modern wonders of the world. Whilst it is undoubtedly impressive, Gaudi’s masterpiece is hardly beautiful; it’s too intricate for that. To me beauty is found in simplicity, a beautiful arch, a Doric column with a plain Georgian building; the Supermarine Spitfire; Elle Macpherson’s bottom. Unfortunately Left Footers can’t resist splashing gold round the place, so you’ll probably get the same gaudy bling covered monstrosity as practically every other RC church in Spain.

Moving on from higher things to more base activities in Barcelona, we come to one of the reasons why Barcelona is very popular with Stag Doo’s. It’s called the Baghdad café and is probably one of the most famous sex shows in the world. We didn’t go but if that sort of thing floats your boat then you know where to go. One particular “act” involves a dwarf having sex with a woman. Kind of like when Mini-Me humps the laser in Mike Myers “The spy who shagged me” film. With this unusual union twixt man and woman I would imagine that the effect would be akin to waving a pin in the Royal Albert Hall. Anyhow, as I said, and am willing to repeat under a polygraph; we did not go to the Baghdad Café. But if you’re on a Stag doo and want to see a dwarf and various other people have sex live on stage then this is where you should go. Personally I find the exploitation of it all depressing, charging GBP £75 before the outrageous additional charges you will incur for buying a beer too; in order to watch people having sex. Buy a DVD instead, watch it a few times and economy wise you're in better stead.

The queues to get back to your hotel from the Port Olympic are absolutely huge. If you want to avoid the 1-hour wait then loose 10 euros in the casino next door and then get them to order you a taxi. I only thought of that when I was at the front practically getting into the taxi. The next night I just walked back as it was quicker – although that was the night somebody tried to rob me. In the gigantic queue for the taxis down on Port Olympic some Scottish women were talking and over came a rather slimy English guy to talk to them. I must admit I have deep sympathies to all women if you have to listen to the olid rubbish this guy was spouting all the time. I don’t know what he was thinking but he spent his time saying how beautiful they all were (his vision must have been affected with the Beer Goggles he was wearing, they were average at best) and then slagging them off for being Scottish. I’m spectacularly unsuccessful with women, and even I’m not that dumb. When they had got rid of this irritating man the Jockettes then moaned about how the English don’t like the Scots and I just giggled. The Scots have spent decades moaning about the Sassenachs, how annoying/nasty/evil the English are and to be fair we didn’t notice because we didn’t really care what the Scots thought.

Like the Catalans of Spain, Scottish moaning is a bit rich as the English subsidise the Scots to the tune of GBP22bn per year (after all their vaunted oil receipts). In fact the Spanish work out fairly cheap by comparison. But in the recent Football world cup we were treated with stories of English people being attacked including a 7 year old boy… http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2006/06/22/ncup22.xml&sSheet=/news/2006/06/22/ixuknews.html , cars with England flags vandalised. We also have to put up with the fact that the Scots get to spend English money without England having a say about it, Scots deciding English laws without the English having a say in Scottish laws (known as the West Lothian question http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/West_Lothian_Question ); the current British Cabinet including the PM, Chancellor, Home Office and a plethora of disgraced and incompetent ministers like Robin Cook are/were Scottish. Basically for them to get the hump about the English not liking them is the biggest Pot/Kettle statement in history. Not that this paragraph has anything much to do with Barcelona of course, other than similarities between both suffering some historic repression (and dishing a bit out too) but sponging off their supposed repressors.

On the plus side of this queue, the people queuing practically ripped anybody who tried to jump to the front apart. It was entertaining watching some guy think nobody had noticed he had sneaked in getting thrown to the kerb by other people in the queue when he tried to get a taxi. City of culture and sophistication Barcelona most certainly is not. The gothic quarter is pretty and there are a few good restaurants in Barcelona. Granted they can also fart on about how they are 50 museums in Barcelona, some of which are probably very good; but if you look closely this list it includes something called the Erotic Museum, a Perfume museum, 2 soccer museums and a chocolate museum. You go to Barcelona to drink beer and look at pretty girls or boys, of which Barcelona is very blessed; you want culture; go to Vienna. It's only 2 stars because I can't give it 2 1/2.


Recommended: No

Best Suited For: Students
Best Time to Travel Here: Jun - Aug