On Sunday, (also known as Cruise day! Woohoo!) we took the bus downtown, caught a subway and then started walking to the port. The information that the cruise gave us said that the port was within walking distance of Barcelona’s city center. It wasn’t. Not even close. It was almost a mile to the bridge. Oh, I didn’t mention the bridge, did I? Yeah, there was a ginourmous bridge that was almost a half-mile uphill and then another half a mile down to get to the terminal. Yeah, that was fun in the middle of the day, when it was 90 and we had our huge backpacks. You know what the first thing they do when you get on a cruise ship? They take your picture. We looked so hot. Pun intended. The good news is that the second thing they do is hand you a glass of champagne.The cruise ship itself is pretty amazing. Except for all the Spanish people. I never thought I had anything against the Spanish until I spent a week with them (and all their kids!) on a ship. They have no respect for lines, other people, noise levels, spatial awareness, anything. At first I thought it was just the swarms of kids that I loathed (I was already aware of this scorn for any gathering of a large amount of spoiled kids so this feeling did not come as a shock to me), but soon I realized that it wasn’t only the mini-Spaniards who were causing this feeling. Turns out we caught the last week of the Spanish summer holiday season and there was an especially large proportion of Spaniards on our ship. Blake and I chatted with several employees on the cruise ship who shared and actually encouraged our feelings of disdain.
The weirdest thing about cruises is the mandatory safety thing. I'm sure they didn't have to do crap like this on the Titanic.
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