Postcard from... Barcelona

 

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The Independent Online

This is ground control to Major Tom. Or, actually, more accurately, this is Room 135 to room service.

Earlier this week, I had a very quick stop-off in Barcelona, a city famed for its design and its designers. I arrived in Barcelona late at night and checked into the nearest hotel. I suddenly found myself in  outer orbit.

The hotel in question, which much like a rocket preparing for lift-off sits atop the station, must have owners who are disappointed to have become hoteliers after missing out on the dream of becoming astronauts. The décor made arriving feel like a cross between walking onto the bridge of the Starship Enterprise and finding yourself at Nasa headquarters.

I was tired after a long day, so I don’t blame the owners entirely, but negotiating one’s way around was made more difficult by the design, which was long on intergalactic presentation, but rather short on practicality. After 10 minutes of looking for the restaurant, and three times passing the huge round table in the lobby (Obi-Wan Kenobi would have felt at home meeting comrades there) without any success I decided to go for room service.

That would have been fine had it not taken several light years to arrive – it might have been quicker to have something rocketed over from Cape Canaveral. Over and out.

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