Woke up bleary-eyed from yesterday's nocturnal wanderings in the second-floor hostel room to an already-bustling common room of travellers - food trumps sleep, it seems, and setting breakfast early in the morning is a good way to clear out the facilities for the next daily crowd...but breakfast falls short of satisfying, accustomed as we are to our four-course (bocadillo, pastry, yoghurt with müsli, and tea or other drink) roadside repast. Oh well; it was included with the bed, which at high season prices means we had better milk the place for everything it will give us - so we grab three plates between the two of us, greedily cramming the dry toasts down our throats with all the butter and jam we can spread on them.
Then it's off into the city to make up for lost time - here in Barcelona, the world's 12th most visited city (and Europe's 4th), the day of rest is merely a suggestion...we start off with a climb up past Gran Via, past Grácia, through the hillside neighbourhoods panting in the stifling humid Mediterranean it's-only-mid-morning-but-already-35-degrees-out heat to Parc Güell, where we are greeted with the full fantasy-sugarland force of Gaudi's imagination. Parc Güell, we later learn, was originally designed as a housing development for those wealthy enough to even consider living in the hills surrounding the city below. It has space for 60 lots, only two of which were ever purchased...but the city saw fit to purchase the land in 1923, whereupon the existing gardens, archways, and pavilions were preserved and the area was converted into a public park -which it remains to this day; entrance is blissfully gratis.
We spend some time poking around Parc Güell, climbing its various hills and exploring all its corners, then head out and up (and back, due to a navigational snafu!) to the funicular up to Tibidabo, which is this sort of panoramic view-cum-telecommunications post-cum-amusement park-cum-expiatory chapel district atop one of the hills around Barcelona. The view is impressive! In keeping with standard practice, the café and church are divided into two parts: one easily accessible part for the bulk of tourists, and one slightly removed part - perhaps up or down a flight of stairs hidden around the back - for the small minority of tourists un-lazy enough to search around a bit...we check out the chapel, grab a drink at the café, and walk down the road to the observatory...
...only to find that, much like everything else we attempt to visit on this trip, it is closed for the season. Oh well; there is a beautiful path leading down the mountain, supposedly used by seasoned mountain bikers - but we only see one, and he is (perhaps wisely) walking his bike slowly down the steep rocky inclines. The path opens out onto a road that winds down the hillside some more before reaching a fork; following the path we deem most likely to lead us back to our bikes (which are firmly attached with every lock we own to a post at the funicular base station), we quickly find that we are wrong...but there is yet another path, this one less formal, leading along a fence down one of the exposed slopes and around the back of the municipal animal shelter. We finally arrive at the bikes and ride back into the city, passing several pharmacy signs that flash 42 degrees Celsius at us in menacing red digital type...
...and we see some more Gaudi buildings in the city, including the Palau Gaudi which is supposedly the first of Gaudi's works in Barcelona (though, as we find out, not the first overall...) Afterwards, we follow a suggestion from one of Valkyrie's friends and head over to Montjüic with its hilltop castle, sprawling parks, and various cultural icons. The walk is long, and we consider taking the Teleféric until we walk into the station and see the exorbitant ticket prices - and the walk, in any event, is picturesque in the extreme.
Day becomes evening, which we pass part of in a café off the Rambla drinking delicious batidas and using their Internet connection to catch up on that whole "real life" thing we hear is still going on elsewhere...we then grab some vegetarian fast food from this falafel stand that boasts a buffet lliure of toppings. Using our cyclist gastronomic instincts, we carefully chip away at the falafel to allow maximum topping load. Before long we are stuffed, though not enough so that we cannot wash it down with a bottle of horchata de chufa; with our stomachs teetering on the edge of uncomfortable fullness, we wobble down to the beach and grab a much-needed nap in the sand before heading back up to catch some live funk-blues-rock band in Jamboree just off Placa Reial. The pianist/keyboardist and lead guitar play with frenetic energy, their faces contorting into every chord...fantastic stuff!
Nighttime now - just past midnight; we head out along the beaches in search of a place to camp, and finally find one just past a stretch of industrial land somewhat out of the city. We are both super-excited to hold the ordained cyclist ceremony tomorrow morning, thus formally marking the midway point of our trip - but sleep for now!