Stories from Spain: Up in the Air

Even with all the great sites and activities that Barcelona offers, the one experience I wanted to have while I was there was a ride in a hot air balloon. I’d checked out all the online sites before my trip, but I’d figured it would be easy to book the balloon experience when we were actually in the city.

I was wrong. First of all, it’s not called hot air ballooning in Spain. After three different travel agents puzzled over my request, the last which had me write it down for translation, I was finally told that I was asking for the wrong thing around town. And after all that trapezing around Barcelona looking for a travel agent to help me, I ended up having to book it online anyway.

Using fans to inflate the balloon on the ground.

After an hour drive out of Barcelona on the last day of our Spanish trip, the hot air balloon wish was going to happen. I watched as the two balloons were slowly inflated using fans. I have to admit that nerves had fully taken over by this point, and I was second guessing my choice of dream activities. I was afraid of heights. I was terrified of falling from great heights. Why had I thought this was a good idea?

Then it was time to get into the basket. I had definetly not thought it out because I'd worn a dress. At this point in our trip, I had exactly two outfits cleaned, and neither of them would have allowed a graceful entrance into the basket which for some reason I had in my head would have a door. I did manage to climb gracefully into the basket though and hop right in, though the whole time I kept hoping that no one would see me fall over into it, in a very unladylike manner. It was during our drill on what to do if we have a rough landing that did it though. Had I lost my mind thinking I was going to go up in a hot air balloon?

Once in the air though, I did relax some. I can’t say that the nervous feeling went away, but it did lessen. There is something about being in the air with no control over when you come down as well as the uneasy feeling that you will tip over the side of the basket that doesn’t make relaxation possible.

Landing wasn’t easy either. Once in the air, the wind determines your destination. It took over twenty minutes just for the wind to steer us to an area we could safely land. It actually took less time to deflate the balloon and pack it all in than it did to land.


Once back at the launch site, our guides poured champagne and toasted sandwiches on the hot air balloon’s burners. It tasted almost as good as my appreciation for being back on the ground.
Wonderful experience… but one I don’t feel the need to repeat. Although my fear of heights feels nearly gone. The fear of falling on the other hand could use some help.

The balloon being folded back up after our flight.

The view of the other balloon from the air. The views were amazing.

Our balloon operator toasting our sandwiches.

Stories from Spain: Bullfighting and Madrid

The Royal Palace

Spain is an old country. Everywhere one looks history stares back at you. Its buildings are ornate and old—and always beautiful.  Just in Madrid one can visit the Royal Palace built after a fire for the second time in the 1700s, or even an Egyptian temple dating from 200 A.D. Businesses still close every day for Siesta and the Spanish tradition of the bull fight is still performed nightly—in most places that haven’t turned their bull arenas into shopping malls.




In Madrid, we stayed at Hotel Opera which was across the street from the Opera house. When asking for directions to the hotel, we learned quickly that it is pronounced like Oprah, and not the way we normally pronounce it in America. We were able to walk everywhere. The palace was only a block away as well as all the sights we journeyed to during our four days there.




The Bull areana

And there were many sights. From parks to shops to museums, we attempted to take it all in. Of course, bullfighting is one of the main attractions in Madrid, as well as other places in Spain.
I will confess to having read nothing on an actual bullfight before I attended a fight at The Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas. I figured I’d learn everything I needed to know during the actual fight. In fact, I believed I was attending one bullfight until I was informed differently right before the fight began.

The matadors sent in early in the fight had pink/yellow capes.

The opening ceremony is a majestic and formal beginning to the elaborate farce – show-- that follows. I found the whole fight to be completely unfair, and I felt sorry for the bull the entire time. I never considered myself to be an animal rights activist, but during the show I could see why there had been a few protestors outside protesting the show, as well as why Barcelona had did away with their arena and turned it into a shopping mall.


The main Matador held the red cape.

I’d always assumed that a bullfight was one man against a bull. It turns out that many matadors exhaust and injure the bull before the main matador faces the bull. And then I had to watch this multiple times. We managed to last through four of them before we had to excuse ourselves from the remaining two. We did watch one matador get injured though and carried out of the arena by the others. Until this, I was cheering for the bulls, but after this, I was conflicted. I don’t like seeing people or animals injured. So I consider this an experience that I don’t need to repeat.


How every bull fight ends-- the bull is dragged out of the areana

While in Madrid, we also went to the bull bar. This bar has its walls covered in bullfight pictures as well as the heads of bulls. It was a wonderful place to take in the history of bullfighting with very nice bartenders as well. This experience, though some of the pictures were distressing to look at, was not a terrible experience and one I’d recommend checking out. In particular there is one gruesome picture involving a horn going straight through the jaw of a matador. It’s one of those things that you don’t want to look at, but you can’t seem to look away.

We also visited the oldest restaurant in the world in Madrid—Botin. This restaurant is known for its roast suckling pig which comes to you with its little face still attached. I refused to look at this while we ate so no one ordered it, but the food was great nonetheless.

I don’t know if it’s because it is the first place we arrived or it is the coziness of the city, but I have a particular fondness for Madrid. Beyond the bullfighting, it was a beautiful experience.



The Bull Bar

Stories from Spain: Airline Mishaps

Traveling anywhere far requires airline travel, especially if one is going to Europe and doesn’t own some private yacht that can get you there. So of course, the airport is where my recent journey to Spain began. If my airline travel would have been uneventful, I would have far less stories to tell, and what would be the fun in that? At least that’s what I tell myself now, but at the time I longed for a few less stories.

The journey to Madrid began in New Orleans. The woman who checked our baggage in kept mumbling about our luggage being five minutes late. She eventually called a supervisor over who approved it going through. This would come back on us when later reached Madrid and our luggage did not. More on that later though.

In Miami, we had a connecting flight to Madrid. When we boarded the plane, someone was sitting in our seat. It turned out the airline had given us both the same seat, and they had made it to the seat first. After standing in the aisle a long time waiting for the attendants to fix the problem, and having all the other passengers sitting in seats that only they were assigned to staring at us, we were assigned new seats in what luckily for us were two of the few empty seats in the back.

It wasn’t until we reached Spain that we realized that our luggage would not be joining us just yet. Discovering this in Spain presented a communication barrier being they spoke Spanish and we did not. At one point, the lady at the desk was trying to dismiss us in what I recognized as the tone you use with someone you think is being utterly stupid, but I had managed to stick my finger in my eye and was crying. Not intentionally, of course. But I did notice her tone changed when she thought I was crying. Not that it got us any answers or any more help in locating our luggage which didn’t arrive until the end of the second night.

Our airline stories did not end there though because, of course, we did have to trek back home eventually.

Nearly three weeks after arriving, our flight home from Barcelona was delayed six hours. First, the attendants came on and said thirty minutes, then it was two and half hours, then three and half hours. All to fix a mechanical malfunction. After four hours, we had finally boarded the plane and were idling and waiting for take-off only for the captain to come on and tell us they had fixed the wrong part and would be fixing the part while we waited on the plane.
Finally, six hours after we were supposed to leave, the captain came on in a tone of voice usually reserved for bad news (Seriously, he should work on that.) to announce we’d be leaving.

We were told we had to fly to New York for a fuel refill and crew change, but we would only remain for thirty minutes and then leave for our connector flights in Miami. Only when we reached New York, we were told we must exit the plane and go through customs. American Airlines did have everything ready for us waiting as we exited the plane though. Some passengers were able to get immediate connecting flights, but we had to stay in New York overnight and return to the airport early the next morning to fly directly into New Orleans.

Thankfully, that last part was uneventful and our luggage managed to arrive with us. I wouldn’t say airplane travel is my favorite mode of transportation, but it certainly offers experiences unlike any other. It after all, brought me to wonderful experiences in Spain, and many more stories that I will share over the next few weeks.