As much as I dreaded it, the time had come for us to leave Spain.
We took the hour-long bus ride from Barcelona with our friends to the Girona Airport, which offered a cheap flight back to Germany. Upon arrival, we were shocked to find that our flight was delayed by 7 hours until at least 1:00 in the morning.
We were throwing out ideas of what to do when someone in our group suggested that we pass the extra 7 hours seeing Girona. I love visiting new cities and was happy to take advantage of this unplanned opportunity.
The bus to the Girona bus and train station takes just 15 minutes from the airport. The one problem that we encountered, though, was that there was no luggage storage at the airport nor at the station, and we all had carry-on bags. If we didn’t stand out before, we certainly did now as we rolled suitcases and carried backpacks through the historic cobblestone streets.
I was enchanted with the beauty of Girona. I felt lucky to be able to explore it and will now recommend it to any visitor passing through the Girona Airport. It is definitely worthy of a day trip, and I might consider staying on the Costa Brava in the future to enjoy the beaches and small towns, like Girona, which have a different feeling than the big city of Barcelona just to the south.
Even with our suitcase, in our 6 or so hours there, we covered a lot of ground, uphill and down.
My favorite part of Girona was wandering through the narrow streets of the old Jewish Quarter.
Being Sunday, the city felt very peaceful. We walked up a hill to reach the cathedral, which provided pretty views of the city.
We only looked at the outside of the cathedral, since going inside with luggage would probably have been disruptive.
After hours of strolling, Chris and I settled into the main square, La Plaça de la Independència, for drinks.
As the sun set, small crowds gathered in the bars surrounding the Plaça to watch a Spanish soccer match on t.v. We ordered our last taste of Spanish tapas and enjoyed the unexpected extra hours in Spain given to us by the airline. We would eventually be flying overnight and be forced to get a hotel in Hahn until the buses started running to Heidelberg in the morning. But, at that moment, as we chatted with our waiter about Spanish wine, watched the locals cheer for their team, felt the warm coastal breeze come in, and sampled a few more local flavors, the next 24 hours didn’t matter.
We were in Spain.