Barcelona is full of interesting museums, two of which I decided to explore. It was my first real day in Barcelona, so I attribute the mishaps in this post to lack of sleep.
Since I was going to be doing an archaeological dig, I thought the Catalan Museum of Archaeology sounded like the right way to go. Me being awesome at Spanish, I totally thought this cartographic institute was the archaeology museum. It was a bit embarrassing when I asked the guy, “How much?” and he responded with a simple, “Not a museum.”
Sigh. I’m a huge fool. The museum was a block down.
I found the museum and went on my merry way, only, I wasn’t quite able to learn anything at this museum. Again, me being awesome at Spanish, I was unable to read all the cards next to the artifacts, which were all in said language. Imagine my dismay when I read the word “Menorca” next to a diorama of a cave with bodies in them, but was unable to get the story behind it because I simply couldn’t read. What a flop!
My second museum was the Salvador Dali museum, which is actually in Figueres, a short train ride away. Knowing about the self-ticketing machines that were normally available to me during study abroad in Italy, I thought this was going to be a snap. I took the Metro to the Estacion and proceeded to an empty terminal to make the ticket purchase, only I couldn’t quite read any of the ticket options.
Usually this is no problem because I simply push the little British flag button and all the options magically appear in English. D’oh! Not so! One option turned to English, and that was “more tickets”. All of the ticket options were still in Spanish, so I had no idea if I was making the correct purchase.
Reluctantly, I turn to this nice older lady in the terminal next to me. “Do you speak English? Can you help me?”
She blabbers something in Spanish and takes over my machine. She starts pushing away at buttons, and – it took me a while – I noticed she was ordering her own ticket and not helping me at all!
I ended up waiting in a long ticket line to make the purchase face-to-face with a vendor, and after about 2 hours I was finally at the Dali Museum, enjoying his amazing and eccentric art.
It was a most enjoyable day – the sun was out and the town was quaint and pretty. Planning ahead, I made it to the train station to buy a ticket and find out the next departure time back to Barcelona. It was an hour away, so I decided to grab a coke and walk around a bit more since it was not a crazy big town like Barcelona (I felt a little overwhelmed being alone in Barcelona at first). I counted the money in my pocket and it was just enough to get some lunch (Pans – you saved my life before in Madrid, and you did it yet again with your fondue sandwich!). The day was perfect.
The day was perfect until I realized somewhere between the train station and the train station, my ticket disappeared. Silly me for putting it in my back pocket. Even though I had my long jacket over my pockets, I was carrying my camera purse on that side. It probably loosened the ticket from inside and fell out at some point while walking. I initially thought I had been pick pocketed, but on recollection I really had no close contact with anyone. I also know that my long jacket would have made that difficult. Either way, it cost me an extra 9 Euro to get another ticket. Yeah, multiply that by 1.4 and you got how many dollars it cost, only get this, it cost way more. Since I had used all the change in my pocket to buy that sandwich, I had to find another ATM machine, which charged me way too much in order to be able to buy another ticket. How frustrating!
And there you have two museums and many mishaps. I believe Menorca is going to be better for me… at least I hope 🙂