Let the train take the strain...RENFE down to Barcelona..

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I am scribbling this extact on the 11.00am Madrid-Charmartin high speed TALGO to Barcelona-Sants.

The journey will take seven hours and will cross from the centre of Spain all the way down to the Mediterranean coast. We were currently passing through the kingdom of Aragon after stopping at Zaragoza at 2.00pm. Outside the window I can see abit of the town of Menzon-Rio Cinca as we glide into a station. But the journey has been a pleasure. Time to rest those weary muscles in what has been an exhausting couple of days and some very late nights.

and got my first look at Barcelona. Very impressive - a rectangular grid of streets overlooked by cream coloured apartment blocks and dotted with palms

Last night was my last in Madrid. It has climbed the ladder to become one of my favourite cities. I found the place absolutely charming with enough streetlife, history and nightlife to keep me spellbound for days. I even thought of moving here as it has everything London has and an exceptional bar scene. Cheuca would be a wonderful place to spend a year in. Last night there was another fashion show in Plaza de Cheuca and myself and my Irish compatriot had a terrific night at 'LL' misunderstanding the jokes from the flamenco drag queens. Before I headed home at 3.00am I took one last trip to Plaza Mayor and stood in the middle while gazing at the frescoed facades lit up in the moonlight.

Then this morning I packed up, paid up and clambered into my green backpack and walked to the METRO. Ten minutes later I was at Madrid-Charmartin station. Charmartin station itself is very busy and serves eastern Spain and France. I had to find my way to Viale 9 and the long train to Barcelona. After settling into my seat I wondered if I'd been placed into the geriatric section by mistake. There was no one near me under fifty. Outside were relatives peering into the window and waving when the train began to move off.

European trains are a pleasure. They are so smooth and seem to glide along on thin air. There wasnt much to see for the first three hours and we sped along and I scribbled, dozed or attempted to do both at the same time. Things got more interesting when we reached Aragon with towering mountains. But on the whole it was a quiet journey with the old dear next to me grunting her way through a puzzle book.

After six hours and Lleida we entered Catalunya and headed for the coast. The scenery was gorgeous as we ploughed through tunnels and narrow ledges. At about 4.30 we hit Tarragona. A city I remember from a family holiday in 1986. I remember its Roman amphitheater and aromatic fish restaurants. We followed the Medittranean coast with sandy beaches and palms to one side. Torredembarra and Sitges passed and we drew into the Barcelona suburbs. Estacio-Sants is a huge barn of a station. After changing up some money I headed for the METRO. Slight changes show I am in Catalunya - more people wearing 'Independicia' T-shirts, yellow and red Catalan flags everywhere and when you exit a METRO platform you leave from the 'Sordida' not 'Salida'.

The METRO whisked me to Verdagdeur. I took out my guidebook and emerged into the humidity of the Eixample and got my first look at Barcelona. Very impressive - a rectangular grid of streets overlooked by cream coloured apartment blocks and dotted with palms. I walked to Hostale Palacio which I booked over three months ago. They lost my booking and were full up! The desk clerk suggested the Turismo on Placa de Catalunya. So I found myself struggling down Gran Via des Cortes Catalans in the heat in the hvain ope that I could bag a room..

I didnt get the chance to glance at Placa de Catalunya because I headed underground to their Turismo where I was found a room for 6000 pesetas a night. I couldnt say yes quick enough! I was given a map and directions and carried on with a heavy backpack. It was a very sticky and tired traveller who walked up Passio de Gracia and found himself at Hostale Cisneros.

"Plain Jane" or uniform would be the way to describe this hostale but at 6,000 a night I wasnt going to complain. I just wanted to collapse on the bed. I've got that tingling feeling of excitement of arriving in a new place. I suspect Barcelona is going to be impossible not to love..