"The city was hot and with time on my hands before I was due aboard my Uncle’s yacht, I collected an ice cream and wandered carefree towards the sea front and the harbour. I’d learnt some Spanish in preparation for the visit but a good guide book from Berlitz let me easily trace my path through the narrow winding streets off Las Ramblas.
Eventually I came to the International Harbour. The International harbour was unmistakeable and sat on the edge of the city centre and Barcelona’s sandy coast line. The harbour was a maze of masts and floating 'gin palaces'. Each one a sea of rope, rigging and flags fluttering gently in the sea breeze.
I stood on the front of the amazing harbour. It was alive with sunshine, blue skys and bustling crowds. It felt great to be there. I felt more alive than even the first day with my gorgeous girlfriend at the Ibiza superclubs a month or so ago. I rang my Uncle and a female voice replied. He wasn’t personally there but his yacht had just arrived and was moored at jetty three, berth five. The code for the jetty’s large steel barred door was 5489.
I found the jetty eventually. They were numbered in order from one up to I think about thirty. I typed in the code on the jetty gate and the gate buzzed open. I walked down the rest of the wooden jetty. The boats I passed were impressive.My Uncle's latest yacht purchase would be equally impressive.."