Viva Barcelona! Day 3 (Sunday)

Woke at 9 and slowly stirred myself into life. We took our time getting ready as I needed to pack my bags, and we ate a leisurely breakfast indoors where I went back to tea (I’ll miss gorgeous Spanish coffee) and ate toast and fig jam. Dismantled my painting from the walking gallery and managed to squeeze it back into my handluggage (I am quite proud of this feat).

At 11 we drove out to Montjuic, so named for the Jewish community that once lived there. I loved the car journey, peering out at the city through the zesty wind. Once we’d parked and walked up a lotta steps, we were met with the unmistakable sounds of ‘Rage Against the Machine’, and just below this noise, a tenacious busker struggling manfully on with his guitar.

We decided to visit the Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya (National Museum of Catalonian Art), which is famous for its Romanesque, Gothic, and modernist collection.

The first wing we entered boasted astonishing religious works from around the 15th century. I’m always intrigued by depictions of Mary and Jesus; in some Mary is insipid and barely concerned, in some she is the rounded mother figure, in some she is a haughty birthday girl showing off her best present. I swear that most renaissance artists had never once clapped eyes on a baby – in so many of their paintings they paint the baby Jesus like a man shrunk down to miniature, with a tiny head and skinny arms. If Jesus had looked like that as a newborn he would have never survived beyond toddler years, and a whole lot of trouble would have been avoided.

There were also a number of amusing ‘George and the Dragon’ depictions – in most the poor dragon looked little bigger than a pet dog, and appeared to seeth with as much killer instinct as a dishcloth. It made George look more like a pest exterminator than a hero; most likely the princess was just a bit of a wimp and any good flyswot would have done the job, without getting a Saint in.

But the modernist galleries were remarkable: beautiful furnishings and posters from the art nouveau era, including work by Mucha and Gaudi; Picasso’s figures; and some wondeful richly coloured realist work by Marià Fortuni, who was a bit obsessed with orientalist themes. Plus you were allowed to take photographs!

Skirted past an expensive touristy mohito stall (though I was gagging for a drink it was so hot and cloudless!) and took a leisurely drive back home past the botanical gardens. Back home, Alicia showed me how to make proper Paella! However the lesson was hampered by the fact that we started drinking the Sangria we’d made the night before, so my notes become increasingly less legible and dotted with more and more exclamation marks; but basically there are two golden rules – don’t touch the dish for 20 minutes once you’ve added in the rice, and never use chorizo!

We also whizzed together some super-size tomatos, a bit of onion, and cucumber, oil, salt and pepper, to make gazpacho, then took this up to the roof of their building to eat with olives, while we looked out far over the city. They have simply stunning view – flowing out from above Park Guell, right through main sites of Barcelona and out to the sea, encompassing the green mountains which roll around the city.

After eating a heavy plate of gorgeous paella – a rich mixture of subtle flavours – we gathered our bits and drove out to a beach outside the city (a bit closer than Sitges beach, which they love, but still far enough out so it wasn’t packed with people). Here Alicia and I waded out into the waves and swam – I always forget how very salty sea water is! Pleugh! Then tried to get as much of a tan as possible before heading to the airport.

Turned up at the airport still wet, wearing my swimming costume with a skirt and smelling of salt and Paella. Also Alicia had left me with the last of the Sangria, which was the perfect medicine against my nervy flying as, once combined with the paella and sun, it knocked me out for the entire flight! I think I’ll aim to make every flight home along similar lines.