Location: Madrid & Barcelona, Spain
Summary: High‑speed train from Madrid to Barcelona, a lost walking stick, a difficult Metro journey, disappointment with a poorly located budget hotel, and a decent meal in Poblenou before returning to an uncomfortable room.
Madrid to Barcelona
We checked out of our hotel in Madrid today to take the Spanish version of the bullet train to Barcelona. It was comfortable and far better than the Chinese one I travelled on a few months ago.
After around two and a half hours, we had covered just over 500 km and arrived in Barcelona. As we stepped off the train, Paul handed me my luggage, and we headed to buy Metro tickets. It was then I realised I had no walking stick. Paul admitted he had seen it next to my luggage but had forgotten to pass it to me, the price I pay for taking the window seat.
The Barcelona Metro was nowhere near as good as Madrid’s. It was busy, hot, and not what you would expect in a major city. Most stations had no lifts. In one station, a large sign informed disabled passengers about a ramp at one end of the platform to help wheelchairs and prams onto the train. It didn’t help you reach it, though, as the station had no lifts, no elevators, and constant ups and downs at every level.
Poblenou, Barcelona
We eventually reached our stop and, after asking for directions, found the hotel. We were not impressed. It was a budget hotel in a completely different area from the one we had intended to book. The room had two beds pushed together and no cupboards, wardrobe, safe, fridge, or minibar. The bathroom was tiny, with no bath, and the toilet was so close to the sink you could have used both at the same time. You had to twist at an angle to avoid hitting the toilet paper holder just to sit down.
All the rooms on our side overlooked the roof of the underground car park and the backs of nearby shops and apartments. The rooms on the opposite side faced a building site and a rubbish dump. If you had children, you wouldn’t bring them here. Outside, the area was covered in graffiti and sat on a four‑way junction: two corners were building sites and dumps, one was a graffiti‑covered restaurant, and the last was an old school converted into a church.
The hotel was in the Poblenou area of Barcelona, along the Poblenou Ramblas. There were many nice restaurants and bars, all filled with locals, usually a good sign of quality. It’s a shame the hotel didn’t follow the same philosophy.
We ate at a restaurant called Passeig 9, where we were served a very good medium‑well T‑bone steak. Unfortunately, I had ordered a medium‑rare rib‑eye. I hope it was a translation issue, as they advertised rib‑eye but didn’t actually sell it. After a full meal, we returned to our rabbit hutch, sorry, hotel, determined to find somewhere better to stay tomorrow.
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