A Snow Affected Trip To Barcelona

A delayed snowy start

The snow that fell on the UK in January 2013 crippled the nation and brought everything to a standstill. As usual.

We were lucky that a break in the weather allowed us to board our flight to Barcelona for the weekend. Boarding is one thing, taking off is another. After not moving for 20 minutes, our captain informed us we’d be delayed another 20 minutes while waiting for the de‑icer truck.

Not the most reassuring announcement, conjuring images of some engineer trying to start the engine with a can of Halfords de‑icer.

After an hour, he said it would be another hour.

By the next hour, we didn’t believe a word he said.

Sitting cramped on a Ryanair plane in mid‑winter for several hours on the runway was not how we expected to start this trip.

Eventually, after a 4.5‑hour wait, we were airborne, with achy knees and sore backsides.

Barcelona, Finally

I’d been to Barcelona a couple of times before but was excited to be visiting again. Because of the delay, we arrived late afternoon and lost a whole day of sightseeing.

We stayed in an Airbnb for the first time, renting a room for 20GBP in a guy’s flat just a five‑minute walk from the famous tourist strip, La Rambla.

Hugo, our host, was from Mexico. He gave us the key, shared some small talk, and that was it. We never saw him again.

We headed straight out to see where the night would take us.

First stop was Granja Viader, a century‑old café in the slightly shadier neighbourhood of El Raval. It was raining and the queue was out the door, but we braved it and were soon welcomed inside.

The place was packed with locals all hungry for their coffee, hot chocolate or Catalan milk fix. The interior was pure retro, like it hadn’t had a lick of paint since the 70s.

The chocolate and coffee were excellent and energised us to hit some bars in the dimly lit, slightly edgy streets of El Raval.

Each bar had character, was packed, sold cheap Estrella (Barcelona’s lovely local beer) and had a rawness about it. It felt a bit like London’s East End.

The London Bar sounded like an expat hangout, but we were pleased to find we were two of only a handful of tourists in a rustic locals’ live‑music bar.

Basic décor, walls splashed with posters and album covers, and a solo artist banging out English classics while the barman poured more Estrella.

Smoking is banned in bars, yet it somehow still had a smoky atmosphere, the kind of place petty criminals might hang out, but it felt safe and welcoming.

Apparently, Picasso used to drink here. We loved it.

Our night ended in a tiny cocktail bar at the end of La Rambla called Boadas, with barmen in penguin suits serving martinis and daiquiris to a mixed crowd. By 1am it was sleepy time.

Gaudi, Beaches and Sunshine

Gaudi’s art‑nouveau architecture dominates Barcelona, particularly the Sagrada Familia.

Started in 1882 and still being built, the monstrous church looked no different than when I’d first seen it over 10 years earlier, still covered in scaffolding.

Why it’s taking so long, I do not know. Angkor Wat only took 20‑odd years to build and that was 800 years ago. Too many siestas, I reckon.

After visiting more Gaudi buildings and the wonderful Park Güell with its fantastic city and Mediterranean views, we took the metro down to Port Vell and Barcelona’s beach.

With the sun shining, a walk along the café‑lined beachfront was a great way to spend the afternoon before stopping for a feast of fresh seafood at a restaurant with sea views.

After walking off the feast through some old inner‑city suburbs, it was time to head back to the airport. Where disaster struck.

Snow, Ryanair and Airport Floor Torture

Our flight was cancelled because of more UK snow.

The queue of 300 people to the single Ryanair customer service desk took an age to clear. We were told we could get a flight to Birmingham in 24 hours or one to London in 36 hours. Both were dependent on the weather, although we heard rumours that Ryanair had messed up with their de‑icer contractor.

There may have been some truth in that, as other airlines seemed to be flying.

Or maybe they had just run out of cans of Halfords de-icer after all.

I booked us on the earliest flight out the next day, an 11.30am EasyJet to London.

I rang my insurance company to see what expenses we’d be covered for before getting a hotel and eating loads of food. They couldn’t tell me, informing me I’d have to submit a claim after spending the money, which could be rejected.

How ridiculous is that. So, I had no idea how much, if any, of what I was spending, would be refunded. Thanks, Nationwide Travel Insurance.

We decided to try sleeping on the airport floor, but each time we nodded off we were prodded by a security baton and told we couldn’t sleep. It was a long night, but finally we got off on time the next day.