Day two: Da boat

Day Two dawns on us in Barcelona, Spain.  (If you missed Day One...where we got to see the porn that Picasso created, it's here.) Feeling like a human again, after finally getting some sleep, we trotted on down to the free breakfast.
I travel a good bit (though within the continental US).  I think I know what to usually expect with a free breakfast...some form of reconstituted rubber eggs, some microwaved bacon and/or sausage...toast.  Not that I'm complaining...many's the time that a Hampton Inn grab n' go kept me from going hungry.
But Hotel Barcelona Catedral had a whole different idea about free breakfast:

Basket of fresh baked delishiousness...with jams and butters of your choice.

Do not know what these are called.  But they are dense little cakes that come with a raspberry/cream dipping sauce that will cause you to make sounds not fit for polite company.

Not pictured: made to order eggs, Iberian ham (apparently in Spain, no hour is complete without a little taste of Iberian ham), fruit, wine (yes, wine...red, white and sparking) or coffee and tea.

 

Speaking of the fruit...at every restaurant/café/bar/whatever that we went to, they had these pears...they were always cut up so I don't know what they looked like.  They were the best pears I have ever eaten, no lie.  I'm not a huge pear fan, because so many of them are mealy and I hate that.  But these pears were crisp and light and juicy and just delightful.  They were served with everything...they were in every glass of sangria I had.  If anyone knows what I was eating, please let me know.

Door across the street from the hotel that I notice while waiting on our cab.  First thing that springs to my mind is The Bloggess's giant chicken, Beyoncé.  Of course, the Barcelona version would say, "Toc, toc Hijo de puta !"

 

There are no photographs taken during the cab ride to the port.  Do you want to know why?  It's because Mom & I spent the entire trip clutching each other's hands and praying for deliverance.  Barcelona cab drivers are INSANE.  We had a lady cab driver.  She seemed normal. She was polite to us, very helpful with our bags, expressed how deeply touched she was about our mother/daughter bonding vacation.

Then she got behind the wheel of her cab.

And became possessed of a demon.

I have no idea how we arrived at our destination unscathed.  I REALLY don't know how we got there without killing a pedestrian or someone on a motorcycle or Vespa.  The woman had no regard for the sanctity of life of anyone around her while she was operating her death-machine masquerading as a cab.  Of course, all of the other cabs were acting like they were being driven by lunatics as well.  Lunatics that honked and yelled obscenities (I assume) at each other.

Our driver would be gesturing out the window, screeching like a harpy and then turn around to us, and in a normal, sane, conversational voice, point out some landmark to us that we needed to visit the next time we were in Barcelona.  The experience was surreal.

She got us to our designated port, unloaded our luggage for us and told us it had been her pleasure to serve us this morning.  We tipped her heavily...she terrified us.

 

Then we were on the ship:

 

Bye, Bye, Barcelona!  See you in 8 days!

 

Castle or Monastery or something on the hill.  Our bat-shit crazy taxi driver told us what it was, but I was too busy crawling into my Mother's lap for comfort at the time to remember.

Selfies on the boat deck. We have survived our ordeal, and are ready for sail.

 

A real mojito.  Those always help to steady the nerves after a string of near-death encounters in a motor vehicle.

Next up: Marseilles, France. Stay tuned.