As the girl Lena told me with whom I met on the aeroplane to Barcelona, the city need to make a pal of. Otherwise you would have bad relationships with it for all your life. And every next your visit will bring more and more frustrations.
That’s because it has happen with Girona, at the airport, where I landed. It all started with the fact that when I was planning my route, back in the Ukraine, I mixed up the time of arrival in Girona. Instead of seven p.m. I saw the midnight, and decided to stay overnight, and not go directly to Barcelona.
“The decision to leave this city, where I get into some stupid stories, matured instantly”
Then in Girona agreed to make shootings for my project Food”n Chef two very good and interesting restaurants. And what was my surprise when I opened the map and began the next morning to plot a route, to know that these restaurants are located in the neighboring cities by Girona, one on a distance of hundred kilometers to the West, the other to the East.
Buses in those sides drove several times a day and I would have come in the best case, by the evening, completely spent from the schedule of the trip. And of all the possible decisions to get to these restaurants quickly and in time, I had only taxi for all my money.
So I went to look at the fish market on the outskirts of Girona, a description and the rave reviews that I have met online. Leaving the equipment and all my things, I went on foot through the city in search of the market.
Seven and a half miles in one direction only. By the narrow and shady Girona’s streets, cosy sea-front, considering the magnificent architecture of perfectly clean and beautiful city. Seven and a half miles to go deep in the sleeping area and find out what the market, to which I walked purposefully, for several years was closed.
Buying fragrant freshly baked bread and Spanish jamon at a spontaneous market, which I met on the way back I sat in the park and began to plan how I will spend the second half of the day. The decision to leave this city, where I get into some stupid stories, matured instantly.
And I went to the station and bought a ticket on a train to the North of Spain, in the Figueres, which is located practically on the border with France.