It's our last day in Barcelona :-( Boooo! So, we head to La Sagrada Familia for the third time, determined to finally get inside.

The first time we were on the bike tour so only saw the outside, the second time we rocked up late, the line was a mile long and we were due to meet Raissa. You'd think this time we would have a better game plan? Nahhh. Our night with Bob caused us to sleep in, we arrive to the same huge queues and slap our foreheads in disgust that we've forgotten to buy tickets online.

We spend 5 minutes debating what to do, with Mark trying to convince my conscience that it is ok to push in, until finally we have a duhhh moment and Mark runs off to an internet shop to buy and print some tickets. We skip to the online tickets line and are inside within 2 minutes. Laters, suckers!

The outside of the Sagrada is incredible, but the inside takes it to a whole other level. It's a feast for your eyes, I'm not even going to try to describe it...google it, or better yet - go see it! 

We walk La Ramblas for the last time, from Catalunya square down to the Columbus column monument, before heading to the beach for a lazy afternoon. Again, an example of the awesome public spaces and facilities - there are funky benches, an outdoor gym, a playground and volleyball courts. Mark eyes the gym longingly - he's been whinging for days that he misses the gym, and needs to exercise. It's true we are getting a bit fat from all this marvellous food. So much for the starving backpackers theory.

Another plus for Barcelona's beach - sand!! Well, kind of. Before the Olympics, they shipped in the sand from Egypt so it's a little dusty, but it sure beats rocks :-)

Eventually its time to go. We race back to the hostel, cook up the last of our market goodies, eat in a hurry and then load up. It's turned into a sweltering afternoon, and as we speedwalk up La  Rambla toward Liceau station, dripping in sweat, I moan to Mark  "I don't want to leave Barcelona!! I'm not ready." Mega sad face.

We finally reach the central train station, and go to the office to collect our pre-purchased tickets. The little moustached man at the counter smiles at me as he prints the tickets "have a good time in Sevilla!"

"Eh? No, we are going to Granada"

"No no, these tickets are for Sevilla"

It takes me 30 seconds of head shaking and rummaging through papers before I see the twinkle in his eye, and he laughs at me as he hands over the tickets, "Enjoy Granada!" 

Cheeky b***** - I have to laugh.

We pop our bags through the scanners and line up to check in. When we reach the top, the lady looks at our tickets, shakes her head, fires off something in Spanish and points back toward the counter. Huh? Another joke?

Again we rummage through documents, trying to figure out what the problem is - we show her passports, the credit card we bought them with, the receipt. She rolls her eyes and shoos us away. It's only as we wander back to the ticket counter that we finally understand.

Our tickets are for tomorrow night. Dohhhh.

They try to exchange them for us, but tonight's train is full. How could we be so stupid? I look at Mark who, like me, is dripping in sweat and looking exhausted. I shrug. Oh well babe, this worked out kind of well, we got what we wished for - you got some exercise, and I don't have to leave Barcelona! Winning.

We head back into town, it's 10:30pm and we have nowhere to stay. Turns out the hostels nearby are all booked out. We end up finding a double room for 80 euro. It's expensive, but it beats wandering around all night..and hey, a little luxury for our final night is not such a bad thing!

We spend our stolen day in Barcelona doing all the things that fall into the "I wish we'd had time for this..." category. It's wonderful to have no strict agenda. We wander about checking out street art, explore the riverside and Olympic port, lay in Ciutudella park and sit near the Arc de Triomf to watch an amazingly talented rollerblader twirl and weave through paper cups at lightning speed.

We take the time to soak everything in and do a little people watching. Each city or area seems to have its own quirky fashions - in Cinque Terre and Nice it was fluro..so much fluro! Brings out the leather tans, I suppose. In Ibiza, less was more - super short shorts, crop tops, and a serious shortage of bras. Barcelona, sadly, takes the cake for it's mullet trend. The mullets here are numerous and varied, with the strangest and most common being mullet dreads. Shaved on top, super long dreadlocks at the back. Not a fan!

We walk the outer edge of the city centre and finally begin to link the city together and find our bearings. We also find a metro just around the corner from our old hostel - well that would have made life easier!

It's a cruisy, wonderful day and when we make it back to the train station that night, I wave goodbye to Barcelona feeling like I'm leaving a friend, but much more satisfied with our time here and ready, I suppose, to move on.