David Coats Blog

Happy Birthday to me.

Happy Birthday to me.

Happy Birthday to me.

Happy Birthday to me.

I think we´ve done pretty much everything one can do in this city! Football - Gaudi and Clubbing!

Yesterday, after feeling like idiots by wasting our day and sleeping in until 12, we went straight out to Camp Nou near Les Corts to buy tickets to the FC Barcelona vs Racing game on Sunday. I tried in vein to order the tickets in broken spanish from the guy at the ticket office - who just pointed me to another queue - the queue for the FC Barcelona museum. After we´d realised we hadn´t made any sense to the guy we tried again in English - which of course - like everyone in every shop here - he understood perfectly! So birthday night - we´ll be above the North Goal in Camp Nou. Sweet!

After our slightly traumatic ticket buying experience (we also struggled to buy tickets from the automatic machines which wouldn´t accept our cards) we took a tour around the New Camp which is just the most incredible stadium ever. The tour includes views of the players changing rooms, pitch, coaches dugout, vip area, press office, players lounge (with leather sofas and espresso machines!) plus a tour of the museum with trophy cabinet! Barcelona are an incredible team who have won everything! They have so many trophies its ridiculous. Probably the highlight was the museum of press photos of Football - games, countries, players, funny and serious.

After Camp Nou we headed over to La Sagrada Familia - a Cathedral designed by Gaudi in the late 1800´s - which is still unfinished after 120 years! We went up the lift to the bridge to take in the breathtaking views of Barcelona. On the ground floor theres a museum all bout Gaudi and the reasons why the cathedral looks the way it does. Gaudi was really into nature so the columns are built like trees, the ceiling represents the canopy of leaves, there are little mushroom and fish shapes in the walls and his use of light through stained glass is incredible.

Back at the Hostel, we played cards and had drinks until 11 before heading out with all the other Hostellers - mainly Americans as well as a group of lads from Leicester. We went to a crazy cocktail bar where they burned everything - ther highlights being a Harry Potter with cinnamon which crackled and a Bin Laden which was Whisky, Vodka and Baileys set on Fire - mental! At about 1am we took a drunken anc confusing tube ride over to the Zona Universitat to Pacha where we blagged free entry! We got back at about 8am to a silent hostel where Jon and Dan went to bed - and I - well - I´ll leave what I did to a personal chat - too personal for this Blog

So from where I left off yesterday - We took a walk in the pouring rain down La Rambla to find somewhere nice for lunch. We wandered into a bar with ´Cerveceria` above the door - pretty much the only thing I know in Spanish - something to do with Beer. The bar had 2 glass shelves containing some of the most incredible food I have ever seen. We walked nervously up to the waitor who immediately recognised our stumbling English mannerisms and wished us `good afternoon´ - hmm - so much for the language barrier! We ate the most incredible tapas - octopus, squid, crab, chicken and cheeses - and drank fine beer - all whilst sitting next to the smelliest drain ever. This country does stink!

After we´d filled our bellies to bursting we wandered down La Ramblas and found a massive market selling fruit, Jamon, Chocolate, sweets and Smurf flavoured Ice Cream, then found an Irish Bar where we met Singe, Duncan and Anthony. It was like a stag weekend! The Beer flowed freely, followed by Rijoa and more Tapas! The guys felt rough after drinking the tap water for 2 nights and spending the day being sick, so they left for an early night at about 9.

Jon , Dan and I continued our session in a back street bar with a Shisha and more beer until about 12. This city really is bizarre. We sat next to an old guy on the tube trying to conduct an opera by singing and wildly waving a pen. The bartender in the Shisha pub was a man, but dressed as a girl with breasts to boot, and when we walked home at about 2am, the streets were lined with gangs of prostitutes touting for business - one group of which smacked Jon in the arse with an umbrella and shouted something in Spanish! I´ve never seen him run so fast!

Anyway - my first thoughts - great city. Cosmopolitan - funky - friendly - great food - lively city no different to London - but with a sandy beach. Barcelona must be great in the summer if only it didn´t smell so bad!

There isn´t. Its nice. 13 beautiful degrees.

We were horribly delayed at Gatwick this morning while the snow fell, got swept off the runway and our plane got a thick coating of de-icer. My first impressions - Barcelona airport smells of poo. The train ride up from the airport was so confusing. The Hostel is fantastic. Really freindly people, lovely ladies and slap bang in the centre off Rambla.

Going to explore now…

I can’t believe how i’m feeling this morning. Fine!

Last night I did 11 miles - 17.7 Kilometers! Thats 2 miles short of the half marathon. My time - 1 hour 42 minutes. Now i’m asking myself - can I complete it in under 2 hours?!

I spent a large part of the run last night naming my courses. Thus far I’ve got:

• Meet the Fatboy - 9K - ‘hey what you doing tonight?’ - ‘meeting the fatboy’
• Fatboy’s old lady - 10K - He will be buried here - with Brighton’s old lady
• Fatboy Fallen Fatboy - 11 miles - With double the old lady!
• The Noble Fatboy - 8 miles - ‘Amusing’ Northern owners - get it?
• The Concrete Lagoon - 17K - I got bored of the fatboy related names.

Anyway - last night the fatboy fell over. 11miles. Can’t believe it!

By the way - children stop reading now - Paula Radcliffe - I shall NEVER take the mickey out of your street poo incident again. EVER. I fully understand why you did it and very nearly experienced the humiliation for myself (except obviously not in front of millions of people on TV!!)

20 minutes into this evening I felt the colonic pressure.
By the time i’d reached the toilets on Hove lawns for the second time I was bursting - but thanks to Lucy’s story of the ‘cottaging’ which takes place at those particular toilets - I decided to push through and swiftly jogged past. By the time I’d reached them for the third time - and decided enough was enough - it was too late; they were locked. By now the pain was unbearable. I just had to sh*t! I even found a jumper to ‘wipe with’ hanging on the railings of the childrens play park by the West Peir, but just couldn’t bring myself to pick it up. I thought of some poor fooker having to clear up my poo from the street corner, or someone sitting on my poo-covered pebbles, so I soldiered on. Lets just say it was a big relief to finally get home. Maybe thats why my time was so good?!

So why am I telling you this? Well obviously - I want you to all understand the pain I am going through to raise money for orphaned African children I have never met.

Please sponsor me!