Girona...Wilfred the Hairy and football mania..

Trip Start Jun 02, 2008
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Trip End May 01, 2010

Flag of Spain and Canary Islands  ,
Monday, June 16, 2008

The guy at reception in the hotel Condal seemed a tad over friendly. I'd been having problems accessing the wireless link so he'd decided to come up to my room and take a look at my computer. Years of working with tecchies has taught me to differentiate between someone fixing the problem and just fiddling (the latter a highly developed technique of support engineers the world over!) ...saved by the door bell I decided to take a walk outside with a now highly annotated map - (courtesy of the friendly and bored receptionist)

Girona, reached by an easy train ride from Barcelona is something of a hidden gem. The old city, once a Roman fort and ruled in the 9th Century by the dubiously named Wilfred the Hairy - is a wash of red and ochre buildings clinging to the rock face above the river Onyar. Its a photographers dream. Its also every girls dream with every kind of boutique shop, cosy cafesand fabulous mouth watering pastry shops. Cute bars and al fresco restaurants line the street of the old town giving it a lively feel.

But what I hadn't accounted for in my last minute decision to come here was that Girona's football team, newly promoted to the sequnda division, were here tonight in the Placa del Vi. As I turned into the square a sea of red and white shirts greeted me, cameras positioned on every corner..i joined the milling throng eager to catch a glimpse of this football team. We were not disappointed, a loud roar from the crowd marked the arrival of the footballers and then we were treated to a 30 minute parade, the team jovially passing the mike from player to player. What was clear was their immense Catalan pride...these were players who were still close to their fans in every respect.

After the players had left, I wandered the old city, grabbed a meal in a friendly and very reasonable restaurant, caught Germany score a penalty kick against Austria and then made my way back to the hotel. The receptionist ..just finishing his shift greeted me with a kiss on both cheeks. I began to wonder if familiarity is just common practice in Spain.

The next morning I grabbed a coffee and croissant in the old square before, dashing for the bus station to take the 2 euro bus journey to the airport. The flight leaving Girona was delayed by a sudden electric storm which blew the lights momentarily in the airport. Passengers gazed on as Fire crews fought to pump the flood water ...I grabbed a seat by the window to sit it out, unphased by the delays ....already chilled and ready for Madrid....
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