It was Wednesday morning in mid-December 2018 in Paris, and we had expected to arrive in Barcelona just right after lunch to scout the city with some daylight to spare. But bad weather and maintenance snags at Charles de Gaulle (CDG) airport delayed our less-than-2-hour flight for almost an hour.

CDG is notorious for delayed flights, as the huge airport, just like the capital city’s maze-like layout, could be very difficult to navigate. Moreover, even for transit passengers, you have to pass through security checks and passport control – all over again.

Despite the hassles, we got to our connecting flight in time and got seated in the mid-section of a much smaller plane operated by Joon (the budget airline of Air France servicing Europe). But give it credit for serving complimentary drinks along with free Wi-Fi.

We finally arrived in Barcelona at 2:25 PM – after another 15-minute flight delay while we were high above the clouds.

We passed passport control without a hitch until we arrived at the designated luggage carousel to retrieve ours. Like being doused with ice-cold water, all our excitement vanished after we realized that we were the only ones left in the area, having waited for almost an hour for the conveyor to spit our luggage.

I received an e-mail stating that our luggage is stuck in Paris and will arrive on the next flight at 5:25 PM. We nevertheless proceeded to the lost baggage area to report the snafu.

The amiable señora that manned the desk spoke fluent English and assured us they would trace and even deliver them to our hotel in downtown Barcelona for free.

Not wanting to risk being separated from our luggage, as we had a cruise ship waiting for us at the port in Barcelona the next morning, we decided to wait for the luggage to arrive at the airport.

We stared in agony at the incoming flight monitors for the next Air France flight from Paris – the 5:25 PM had become 5:37 PM. Again, we went to the assigned carousel and looked for our luggage.

That is not a good sign. Our luggage is still not in the carousel after the arrival of the 5:37 PM flight from Paris.

With relief, we scrambled back to the lost baggage area and saw our two luggage pieces among a pile of others that got stuck in Paris or elsewhere. After signing some paperwork, we finally strolled out of the arrival area with our beloved luggage and looked for a ride to our hotel.

My watch read 6:05 PM. The luggage delay cost us almost four (4) hours of daylight.

We had difficulty getting a ride to our hotel because the first Cabify (ride-hailing platform in Spain) driver we hailed gave us directions that we couldn’t understand. We went up to the arrival area and hailed another Cabify. The ride was through high-traffic areas, took about an hour and cost €45.

At the hotel, the room was decent, with a nice bathroom although a bit small. I took a shower and reflected on the day’s events. The ‘adrenaline rush’ had worn off, and I felt so tired. Ruby alleviated the aches and pains by giving me a brief massage, especially on my worn-down legs.

After converting some of our US$ to Euros, we looked for a place to eat and decided on some ‘kebabs’ from a place called Bellako, which Google Maps informed us was just a 10-minute walk.

After crossing our first two (2) Barcelona streets, the spires of the popular tourist spot, the Basilica La Sagrada de Familia, towered from a distance. 

We headed towards it. Along the way, we could not ignore our stomach grumbles, so we quickly grabbed three (3) pieces of ‘empanaditas‘ (small puff pastries filled with meat or seafood) and a glass of Coke from a small bakery Ruby had spotted. They were still a bit cold despite our request to heat them, and as a result, they were not appetizing.

By 9:30 PM, we took several pictures of the famous basilica and continued our hunt for the elusive ‘kebabs’ along the now-cold streets.

Barcelona’s streets are confusing as most blocks culminate in a rotunda (a roundabout). Google Maps provided little help, as the orientation seemed reversed. After half an hour of walking, with a Repsol gas station as our landmark, we finally spotted the elusive eatery.

The place is quaint and smells like something good is about to come as soon as you enter. The menu is on the wall close to the cajera (cashier). You tick your choices on a slip of paper, pay, look for a seating spot in the relatively small main seating area (there’s a bigger seating area in the basement), and wait for the ‘goodies’ to arrive.

We had two kinds of beef ‘kebabs’ with extra toppings of their ‘Secreto Ibérico‘ Jamón, a bottle of local beer and a glass of red wine, all for about €24. The food and the red wine were so good that we could not resist but order a ración (a small bag of fries-fried in olive oil) to go.

And, in the stillness of that particular night in Barcelona, we quietly returned to our hotel.