European Vacation 2006

Weekend in Platja D'Aro

Breakfast in Barcelona
I forgot to include a funny anecdote in my last newsletter. On our first morning in Spain, Kristin and I decided to eat a quick breakfast at the buffet. European breakfast buffets aren’t quite like the ones you are used to. They’re small; they have fruit, pastry, bread, and maybe some scrambled eggs and bacon.

We each grabbed a plate, and made our way up there. She and I each grabbed some eggs and other breakfasty things; we both avoided the nearly raw bacon. And when we got back to the table, she and I agreed that the eggs were absolutely inedible - disgusting. Not only were they ice cold, but they were oddly soupy. We ate what we could and moved on – not terribly upset, we mostly laughed.

They Didn’t!!
The next morning, we decided to avoid the whole buffet thing and order room service. I ordered 2 fried eggs, ham and coffee; she got scrambled eggs, ham, fruit and juice. So, as we are getting ready, the food shows. Within 1 minute I’m back on the phone with room service. The ham and fried eggs are ice cold, and THEY TOOK THE SCRAMBLED EGGS FROM THE BUFFET!!

The lady didn’t understand me on the phone, so she came up. I explained that we would only pay for the coffee and fruit, and that she needed to make the rest go away. She then asked if she could remake any of it. I told her that I only wanted the fried eggs if the also made FRESH scrambled eggs. She told me the cook wouldn’t do it – he would not make scrambled eggs while there was perfectly good eggs at the buffet. She agreed to go down and try to convince him. Eventually we got our fresh eggs and a huge laugh.

Platja D’Aro
So we never made it to Ibiza. Next time I travel to Spain, I will definitely book airfare to Ibiza ahead of time. Somehow I thought this detour would be similar to my trips into the Greek islands. It is very easy to plan a trip to Santorini at the last minute, without planning. It seems that Ibiza requires a little more forethought. It really didn’t matter; Kristin and I had a fantastic time in Platja D’Aro.

Platja D’Aro is a cool little town right on the beach. It is one of 20 or more on the northeast Spanish coast. It has just one main street, which is about 10 blocks long, which parallels a hotel-lined, white sand beach. This is exactly what we were looking for. We knew none of this when we arrived.

Where the Hell is the Hotel?
We got off the bus in Platja at roughly the end of the main street. I didn’t see any taxis. There weren’t any people hustling rooms for rent. So I did what any sensible person would do: I called the hotel. That didn’t go anywhere; don’t you love language barriers? Next we started walking down the street, luggage trailing. I expected to see a taxi or sign pointing us in the right direction at any moment. And about 10 blocks later we thought we were saved when we saw a Tourist Information sign. When that was closed for siesta, we luckily ran across 2 police officers standing outside. They pointed us in the right direction.

Two blocks to the sand, turn right then walk 10 blocks to the hotel. We made a huge u-turn. As it turns out, the hotel is just a couple blocks from the bus station. Once we checked in, we headed down to the beach. After a few hours of sun, a late lunch and a couple drinks, we headed up to our room to do a little pre-partying.

We Don’t Have Ice
You see – we bought a bottle of vodka in Barcelona, and I still had a couple mixers in my suitcase. We were just missing ice. So on our way into the hotel, we ran to the bar and asked for some ice for the room. The bartender looked me straight in the eye and said, “We don’t have ice.” I pursued the question a little further, thinking it was just a language issue. He maintained that he had no ice. He also told us we could walk to a supermarket and grab a bag. Hmm. I was pretty perplexed. What bar has no ice? But I didn’t want to start a fight over it, so we started toward the room.

On the way through the lobby, I went to the front desk, where I saw a helpful looking lady. I asked her for ice. Then I thought about it and asked for 2 Sprites and 2 tonics too. She called someone, I’m assuming the bar, and managed to place an order. Within 15 minutes, we had ice, but just enough for a couple cocktails.

When we ran out, I shot down to the lobby. The lady that helped us wasn’t there. So, encouraged by my last experience, I walked right up to the guy at the desk. “We would like to have some ice for our room.” He looked at me strangely and pointed to the bar. I tried to explain, and he then accompanied me to see the bartender, who immediately told him something like, “We don’t have any ice.” Actually I think it walk more like, “what do you think I look like, an ice machine?” He looked pissed. Anyway, he grabbed a new garbage bag from under the sink and proceeded to fill it with fresh, cold ice.

Our Routine
Our time in Platja had acquired a pleasant routine. We woke up at 10, had breakfast, sunned until the late afternoon, ate a really late lunch at our favorite restaurant, walked around town, and tried desperately to eat dinner before everything closed. Having limited success eating before going out, we would pre-party in the room, go dancing, and end up pretty plowed.

The beach at Platja is lined with restaurants, each with outside seating. Our favorite had a patio with tables, benches and a couple TVs strategically located – the World Cup had been on for days already. The food was good, and the service was perfect if not funny.

Who’s Check is it Anyway?
The first time we strolled in there, we got a bench facing the beach. After having lunch, the bench in front of the TV, also facing the beach, freed up. So we jumped up with our cocktails and landed in front of the big LCD. About an hour later, our original seat was picked up by another couple. About an hour after that, they asked for their receipt. Well, they called the waitress over – the bill was way too high. It turns out that nobody saw us move; in fact, the waitress didn’t even notice the table being vacant for an hour. I tried repeatedly to flag her down to tell her that the bill was half ours. Of course she was way too busy accusing the other party of eating two lunches and quite a few cocktails.

Once we managed to get her attention, she proceeded to rip us a new one. How dare we move! We must have laughed for an hour. Then another waitress came over and subtly made fun of her coworker. For the rest of the trip, every time we sat down for food or drinks, the second waitress would walk over and warn us laughingly not to move.

Remember the bartender with the ice fetish? On our second day, we had plenty of mixers, so we decided to pick up a trash bag full of ice. I didn’t know how the bartender would act, but I figured I should start with him before moving to the front desk. I walked up and requested some ice. He sheepishly complied, immediately grabbing a fresh trash bag. Who’s the ice machine now?

Typical Transportation Screw-up
We spent our last day on the beach, planning to leave on one of the last buses back to Barcelona. As the time neared, we grabbed our bags and proceeded to the bus station. I purchased the tickets, and we waited with a huge crowd, apparently also going to Barcelona. A bus came at about 7pm, and the crowd piled on until the bus was full. But we HAD seat numbers?!?! I tried to find out what was going on, and one of the other waiting passengers said there would be another shortly. So we waited. But when we tried to board the second bus, the driver told us this wasn’t the bus to Barcelona. It seems that while waiting with the crowd that we assumed was going to Barcelona, the 7pm bus we wanted had already come, boarded, and left. Luckily there was one last bus back.

Scheduling Note
I'm writing this from on a Lufthansa flight to Estonia listening to Eminem. I should be meeting the Fins tomorrow morning; so it appears this trip is going to take another turn - Be prepared. :)

posted by Adam Stern @ 12:35 PM