May 31st, 2010 
admin After a night out in Las Ramblas, and sleeping in a cramped hostel, that smelled of twenty four dirty feet, I spent a bit of time getting food at the market, using the cash machine, and returning on the hour to the hostel for meetings that never happened. I want to be a team player, but it seems that few others can get to these meetings on time or if they do the meeting is not ready to happen. There is much to see here, Gaudi architecture, museums, cathedrals, but alas I am tethered almost hourly to a back room of a hostel, for meeting that never happen. I did get a chance to walk down to the waterfront to snap a few pics, which for me was better than nothing.
Mercat de la Boqueria-Las Ramblas
We ended up getting out of Barcelona really late after the production had to unpack and repack their vehicle while the rest of the cast waited for them. The lack of organization is frustrating. The crew either does not have the proper direction or has problems following direction. They are young and in new countries and having new experiences, but they are being paid to work, and I am paying to be here. We drove around Las Ramblas for far too long trying to get shots of the cars driving thru Barca. I was intensely frustrated by traffic and the repeated loops to get the right shot of us leaving town. Driving in Barca is difficult in normal times, but being frustrated made me really short fused. I don’t blow up though, I wish I would, rather than internalizing my frustration.
Barcelona Harbor
We stopped for dinner at a place called Pink Champagne, before leaving town. It was packed ass to elbow, standing room only, and I decided to move to outside the moment I caught someone’s hand going into my bag, trying to pickpocket. I grabbed the hand and extracted it from my bag empty, and pushed myself through to the door. The director of photography(DP) Walter Romeo, suggested that I and another cast member find somewhere less chaotic, and around the corner we found a lovely street side cafe, where we relaxed over some excellent dishes of shellfish and rice.
Relaxing with Walter
I really enjoy the company of our DP. He is Italian, well educated, well traveled, speaks 4 or 5 languages, and has a Jedi Knight directness that I find admirable. When Walter speaks, people listen. We hit the road with plans of driving thru the night to Tarifa, Spain.
Lucy and I got separated from the pack or cars, and it seems that none of our CB radios work correctly and communication between vehicles has broken down. It was our fault, we told everyone that we would pull off at the next gas (petrol) station. We missed the turn as we were engrossed in conversation, but had no idea of what to do next. We pulled off at the next station, bought a map and filled with petrol, and luckily the rest of the caravan arrived. What a relief. I continued driving, till I could no longer see straight, at which time our car camera man took over driving as Lucy does not feel comfortable driving the right side of the road, and does not know how to drive a manual transmission.
Across the straight of Gibralter lies Africa
After a bit of a roadside nap, we continued on to Tarifa and along this drive we caught our first view of Africa, across the straight of Gibraltar. My heart started racing, never in my life did I expect to be looking at Africa across the water. We ended up arriving in Tarifa, a haven for kite surfing, windsurfing, and scuba diving, in the early afternoon. Carlos (a former NomadicNation.org trekker from Barcelona) was unreachable by phone, so a few of us set out to find the dive shop where he works. Can’t believe we actually found him using my broken Spanish. I took a quick swim in the ocean, and returned to the group who were hanging out at a restaurant. We found a nice hostel, took showers, and set out for Tapas and nightlife through the rustic streets that are Tarifa. This town is beautiful, I will definitely return here in the future for a week or two. A pleasant end to an otherwise manic day.
Tarifa
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