When Mum and I were leaving Athens to fly to Spain, we had been told by cousins that the very next day there were to be union strikes on transport across the EU, so we were very lucky we were booked on flights that day before! People had suggested riots etc but I really didn't pay much attention. So that second day in Barcelona we decided to walk from our hotel into the city (20 min walk) and soak up the lovely scenery on the streets of Barca – in particular the gorgeous building facades. We arrived in town and Las Rambalas was a ghost town. It seemed everyone knew the metro, taxi and buses were not working today so spent the day lazing in their hotel room. There were a few stores open but all had security guards that were not normally out the front.
The golden rule when you need to use the bathroom when travelling – you can always rely on the golden arches (Mc Donalds). But even they had their roller doors half down at 10.30am. The word on the street and we had seen it on the news that morning (albeit in Spanish but we got the jist of what they were saying). So everyone was avoiding Las Ramblas fearing a riot would break out. It seemed all peaceful but with only a couple of shops opened we headed down to the beach for a stroll. A couple of my friends live in Barca and were expecting to have a baby any day whilst we were there. We arranged to meet them that evening in Las Ramblas at the Zurich building cafe shop, which apparently is the meeting point for most locals. A few hours before we were due to meet I received a text message from my friend advising that it would be safer to come to her apartment near Station de Sants as the riot was expected to commence at our agreed meeting time.
So we agreed and slowly walked back up to Las Ramblas – the scenes that we were greeted with was crazy. We realised that something wasn't quiet right when we saw the huge bins they have on the roadside for residents to use – tipped over in the middle of the main street which was now very empty. There were police absolutely everywhere! Some were trying to pull the bins off the road and back into an upright position – the rubbish spilling all over the roads was disgusting.
People were picking up the pace with their walk and getting where they needed to go fast. The closer we get to the centre of town the more damage we see. It wasn't just the rubbish bins blocking streets, but smashed shop front windows and an awful lot of graffiti across shop windows criticising capitalism and corporate greed. Shop window after shop window the paint cans had sprayed their messages loud and clear for all to see. I was turning into a journalist as I was madly taking photos -
I couldn't believe my beloved Barca had turned into the early stages of a war zone!
By the time we got to the top of Las Rambalas we met the riot police and there was an overhead police helicopter watching the crowd. Somehow mum and I were right at the front of the group of police in riot gear armed with tear gas, rubber bullets, shields, helmets and batons and there is me and a little 70 year old! I couldn't help myself and took a heap of photos just in-case they attacked the crowd when no-one was actually moving. You could actually see in the crowd the young trouble makers who were just there so they can be violent and a nuisance. I decided it was not safe for us there and that it was time to head home, so we weaved our way back through the crowd and continued down the street to our hotel. The destruction was everywhere and by now all stores were open before were quickly shutting down after hearing that the protesters had gathered nearby.
Things calmed down that night but watching the news we discovered that whilst we were strolling down at the beach, revellers had set alight a police car – it was very chaotic and we seemed to be just behind the excitement all the way. It was certainly a side to Barcelona that I never imagined possible – my mum got to see European passions flare and got to experience Barcelona with no shopping :(
Next blog... Madrid
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