Jinan & Qingdao; Football & Beer

I've got some good news and some irrelevant news. The good news is I've got a new job, I'll be moving to an international school teaching children. It's a rather bittersweet moment, while I'm saddened by leaving Wall Street English I'll be moving into a teaching role which will undoubtedly be more fulfilling and rewarding.

The irrelevant news is the content of this blog in which I travelled to Jinan and Qingdao taking in a Chinese Super League game and the Qingdao beer festival.

So I had 10 days between jobs and felt like going away somewhere, the only trouble being that it's peak summer time. A quick flight search yielded expensive results. The cheapest destination being Phuket, Thailand. I'd be doing this trip solo, so the thought of paying peak prices to spend a week feeling like a paedophile wasn't so appealing - just imagine if Elon Musk found out about it.

I then thought about heading somewhere new, an untrodden path. The relatively uncharted land of Laos came to mind, but after catching up with the flood warnings the idea of being evacuated and watching my passport get washed away isn't the ideal way to relax.

I had originally wanted to get out of China, but my options were becoming limited. I put together a plan and with a little research, I noticed I could watch a top-flight football game in the city of Jinan before heading over to the coastal city of Qingdao to relax at Asia's biggest beer festival on the beach all within 3 days. The added bonus being that I wouldn't feel an obligation to diddle kids.

The plan was set, I took the short 2-hour train journey to a very humid Jinan.

I often get asked if Chinese people stare at me and, generally in Beijing, they don’t, but once you leave a big international city that’s when you notice it. Walking around Jinan I did feel like a circus attraction, but you’ve just got to ignore it.

In the middle of the city, there is a lake named Daming Lake (I think they’re doing themselves an injustice there as it is actually very picturesque). 

The sun was really beating down on me so I stopped to cool off and enjoy the view. As I enjoyed a moment of peace something caught my eye that I had never seen before. I’ve been around the block a few times and I’m nearing in on two years in China, but this shocked me. I saw the oldest woman in the world. If I had to guess she was on the wrong side of 150.

Her face was weathered, tanned, and very wrinkled. So wrinkled in fact that it looked like one of those mazes you find at the back of a TV guide. She was posing for pictures with her family and I just had to have one with her. I sidled up to them and gestured as kindly as I could and luckily she agreed. I sucked in the beer gut as I posed beside her realising I was conscious of how I looked while standing next to a 170-year-old woman.

I'm the one on the left

It’s hard to fathom just how much China has changed during her 185 years. She’s lived through poverty, the Cultural Revolution, the height of Chinese communism, Mao’s mass killings and now she’s stood beside a sweaty foreigner. I wonder which occurrence she would consider the worst. I felt a little guilty asking her for the photo, but considering how many stares I had been receiving the guilt eased.

I carried on further round the lake and again after about 25 minutes of walking, I took refuge from the heat in the shade. A little girl of about 3 or 4 cautiously approached me while her grandmother encouraged her. She stood next to me and I pointed at myself saying “Brendan” and she repeated my name. I then pointed at her and said “you?” to which she repeated me again. It’s hard to tell if she was just repeating what I was saying or if her name was Yu. She ran back to her grandmother and returned with a phone to show me a video. It was of her online English class whereby a foreign girl tried her best to keep this little girl’s attention using toys and repeating “lion...lion...elephant...elephant...” with a forced smile. I noticed that this video was 30 minutes long and as my knowledge of English animal names is already pretty good, I thought it was time to leave. I gave the girl and her grandmother a smile and left. 

I walked down to Baotu Spring self-described as “the best spring in the world”. It was very nice, but the best in the world? I wasn’t so sure. Considering everyone was throwing their filthy coins into the spring it probably would be healthier to drink from Peckham Spring.

It was time for the main event and the main reason that I came to Jinan – the football. Shandong Luneng Taishan were taking on Chris Coleman’s Hebei China Fortune. It was the first time I had seen any foreigners since leaving Beijing. As Graziano Pelle warmed up I gave him the old foreigner nod – a symbol of solidarity. Imagine something similar to the Black Power salute, but for people who haven’t suffered at all.

Shandong won 3-1 with a penalty scored by Diego Tardelli (Football Manager legend) and a brace from Pelle (I can’t help but feel my presence in the stadium spurred him on). It should have been a lot worse for Hebei and I can see another relegation might be on the cards for Chris Coleman if they continue in their current form. Coleman will be feeling the pressure as his stellar reputation, after taking Wales to the European Championship semi-final, is taking a hit. Luckily, his £3.5 million a year contract will help him sleep at night.

The following morning I took the train to the coastal city of Qingdao. I didn’t know much about the city. It was once occupied by the Germans but Germany recalled their soldiers to aid their war efforts in the Second World War, which didn’t quite go to plan for them. Qingdao was then occupied by the Japanese until the 50s, but it’s most famous for China’s top-selling brand of beer – Tsingtao.

Only China has to put up signs not to beat the seagulls

First impressions are that it’s bloody warm. I ventured out into the city, but to be honest, it was just too hot so I waited for the temperature to cool before heading to Golden Sands Beach which hosts Asia’s biggest beer festival. 

When I picture a beer festival my mind goes to a warm summers afternoon sipping local craft beers under a gazebo of a small pub. But this wasn’t a quaint British affair, this is China and China does everything bigger. They have German-styled houses, a 40-foot high pint of beer, and a festival the size that could rival Glastonbury.

As I wandered through the madness I walked into one of the brewer’s tents. It was lively. Each tent had a host who welcomed singers and dancers on stage and while topless men sipped lager scantily dressed women danced. It was a haven for beer, babes, and bellies.

It was a night well spent and I looked forward to spending the following day relaxing beachside, unfortunately, the weather had other ideas. I awoke to tremendous rain. With the day's scheduled activities cancelled I sought an indoor activity and went on a tour of the Tsingtao brewery. It was interesting enough to read about the brewing process, but ultimately it is a long line of pushy, impatient Chinese tour-goers. If you didn’t already know the Chinese are hardly famed for their excellent queueing and patience. It’s hard to enjoy the tour without a sense of annoyance. I sampled some of their finer drinks, while very enjoyable it wasn’t quite what I had in mind at half past ten in the morning.

Absolutely pure Tsingtao beer, much like the Aryan race

Enjoying a cold refreshing glass of liquid bread

After exiting the brewery you are immediately on Qingdao’s Beer Street. I wasn’t really in the mood for further drinking, but walking down the street I noticed many vendors serving beers on the go (mainly for alcoholics with busy schedules) though they weren’t served in plastic cups, but in bags with a straw. 

I’m not convinced by this phenomenon. As an Englishman, I’m used to bartenders not serving me beer in a glass as I instinctively identify the container as a throwing weapon. With a plastic cup you can still cause some distress which can instigate some violence, but drinking from a plastic bag takes all the dignity away from an angry violent Englishman. If I want to throw a beer-in-a-bag it’s no more than a glorified water balloon and that will not strike fear into opposition football fans when they’ve just knocked us out of a major football competition. 

The rain eased and I wound up at Qingdao’s most popular and best beach aptly named Number 1 Bathing Beach. The rain may have temporarily stopped, but the dark clouds and crashing waves weren’t exactly setting a relaxing mood. 10 minutes there was more than ample. I killed time in a cafe waiting for my train back to Beijing.

I hadn’t been expecting much, but it had been a fun few days away. For now, it’s back to Beijing before starting my new job on Monday where I’ve been put in charge of teaching, guiding and influencing 20 nine-year-olds. Wish me and them good luck.

Chinese New Year: The Great Wall, Clubs, and a Dead City

The Chinese New Year celebrations are coming to an end and the millions of people are flocking back to the city. I was expecting to achieve quite a lot over the week of celebrations, but that wasn’t as easy as I had planned. The city closes down for a week. It’s bizarre to see such a deserted city which is usually thriving. 75% of businesses close and the city is lit up with fireworks and firecrackers, just the noises you want to hear when you’re trying to sleep in.

So, I did what most people do when there is nothing to do – drink. Luckily, some of the few establishments open were a select few bars, and I could sniff them out a mile away.

I’ve had my first experience of a Chinese night club and they are quite the spectacle. When you picture a club in western country you imagine a bar and a dance floor, in China they sell booths and each booth is sold an expensive bottle (or bottles) of top quality alcohol and a fruit platter. Of course, a fruit platter. Most are dressed in their finest attire, while I was in a farmer shirt looking like I’d come straight from the rice paddies.

Chinese culture is built on saving face. (I’m going to define that now and any Chinese people reading this will probably scoff at my inability to grasp the “saving face” concept.) Saving face is about one’s public appearance and opinion. A Chinese person would buy a gift for someone they cannot afford to give the appearance of wealth, or order more food at an already full table while exclaiming there isn’t enough, or they'd rather borrow money from multiple parties at increasingly unsustainable interest rates than have others know that their company is broke.

This bodes well for night clubs as everyone is throwing money around. Although, not me. Again another Chinese culture I cannot get on board with. While most people were ordering bottle after bottle of high end vodka I blagged my way onto the guest list to get free entry and was waving my free drink coupons at the bar. "Another free rum and coke, please."

The competition was fierce, there were hundreds of rich Chinese guys that I couldn't compete financially with, but on the dance floor they’re as stiff as a scarecrow. This is where I come into my element. While I can shake it with best of them the difference between us is that at the end of the night the scarecrows take their ladies home in a Mercedes and I have to tell my lucky lady that we’ve got to wait until 5:30am for the subway to open.

I did manage to tick something significant off the bucket list during the week and that was visiting The Great Wall of China. It was definitely a wise idea to spend 3 hours in the Chinese mountains in a -12°C chill.

It is a very impressive wall. Originally built between 220-206BC, stretching 8,850km to keep out the Mexicans. And Qin Shi Huang even got the Mexicans to pay for it.

I went with Matt and Drew and we booked our excursion as part of a group tour. On my travels I’ve seen many Chinese tourists groups and hated every one. Always a large group of pushy tourists with a tour guide speaking incoherently into a very cheap and very loud PA system. Now I was in one of these groups. It didn’t take us long to break away from the guided tour and explore on our own.

Obviously it was to keep out the Mongolians (I was just joshing with you before) and looking at the surrounding mountains the wall seemed unnecessary. It looked pretty difficult to scale these enormous mountains, you’d think a wall would be a piece of cake. Their ability to scale mountains was trumped by their inability to build a ladder.

I do have a few criticisms of the wall and the first is the inconsistent step sizes. This tied with having a few beers on the wall made walking along it a lot more difficult than I had anticipated. Criticism number two, it’s too long. I was on it for 3 hours and hardly saw any of it. An escalator or a Stannah Stairlift would improve the experience significantly.

On the way back down the mountain we had the privilege of sharing the very same cable car that Bill Clinton had used when he visited the wall. Who knows what went on in that car, but knowing what old Bill is like I didn’t want to touch anything.

The Great Wall is impressive and it shows the achievement of the human race. It’s amazing what man can achieve when there is no concern for human lives. You’ve only got to see what they’re doing in Qatar to see a modern example. And you know, all those people who have lost their lives building those stadiums would say the sacrifice of life is worth having air-conditioned sporting arenas.

Going to try my hand at skiing in a couple of days. I could play it safe with snowboarding, but the idea of trying to ski, breaking a bone, and spending a significant amount of time in a Chinese hospital is just too appealing. 

Well, Thailand Was Disappointing

Cambodia came and went so quickly. It was quite the ordeal, but Wes and I had such a good time there. We took a minibus from Siem Reap to Koh Chang, a small quiet island just off the coast of the mainland near to the Cambodian border. Wes was recommended to visit this destination with a promise of it being ‘super chill’ and the ultimate place for island living. I’m not so sure about island living as it was more like Ireland living. It rained for 2 whole days.

Our plans of relaxing on the beach were scuppered and we spent two days in a bar playing pool and cards with the most boring German lads I’ve ever met. Wes and I tried to make the most of this negative situation, we found an empty beach bar and smashed it at karaoke. The Germans sat and smoked shisha. Germans are hardly known for their fun personalities, stereotypes exist for a reason.

In typical fashion the day we left there was glorious weather. This was the view from the boat.

From Koh Chang we went to visit my friend, Gav, in Pattaya. When we told other travellers that we were going to Pattaya we were met with the same reaction. We were told many times that it’s the worst place in Thailand…and they were right.

It all started well, Gav put us up in his swanky apartment, which was quite the step-up from our previous hostel which didn’t even have a lock on the door and had monkeys running around on the balcony. We headed for the go-go bar ridden Walking Street and I’ve never seen anything like it. Every bar is filled with dozens of “fun time” girls.  It’s the seediest place on earth. If Pattaya was a person it’d be Donald Trump.

The tourists were all male, 50+, and desperate. Wes, Gav and I stuck out like a sore thumb. We were probably the youngest men to ever step foot in Pattaya. The girls are very friendly, for obvious reasons, but I felt they preferred talking with us as there was only a 3 or 4 year age difference as opposed to a 30 or 40 year difference to the usual tourists.

As the night went on the abnormal just became normal. We were in a bar shooting pool with some prostitutes and they brought a few snacks round. One girl started feeding me fish fingers (no puns please, I know you’re all better than that). It was a strange night, but only when you take a step back and look at that situation you realise how bizarre the night had become.

Gav was a great host and it was great catching up with him, but one night in Pattaya is enough for me. From here we flew south to the islands.

Our first stop was in Koh Pha Ngan, an island notoriously known as a party island. We spent the day scooting around checking out the beaches, but we were pretty much killing time until the half-moon party that evening.

I’m not sure what came over Wes and I that evening, but we took it upon ourselves to organise all the drinking games for the entire hostel. The hostel staff were more than happy to let us do this as it allowed them to enjoy their evening. As a reward they ploughed us with a lot of free alcohol. Free beers, buckets, shots. The only problem with doing this is that Wes and I will drink all of it. I didn’t make it out for the half-moon party and Wes made it out for 10 minutes before getting a taxi home. Everyone else said it was good, but I can’t actually comment on the famous beach parties in Thailand.

From Koh Pha Ngan we got the boat over to the next island of Koh Tao. We did a spot of snorkelling which always sounds more fun than it actually is. You expend an awful lot of energy to see a few fish and rocks. It’s basically a day out getting sunburned and drinking sea water.

We went out on a bar crawl with some girls from Milton Keynes, Ellie and Emma, went to a ladyboy cabaret show (Wes loved it) and that wrapped up Koh Tao. 

We took one last boat to Koh Samui where we met up with some Irish girls, Laura and Ashlyn.

We’d planned a night out, but then we got the news that the King of Thailand had died. He’d been the king for 7 decades and had spent the last 7 years in hospital, I was in Thailand for 12 days and he snuffed it. The country declared an entire year of mourning and a ban on alcohol sales for a month.

A ban on alcohol?! How am I meant to enjoy Thailand without booze? How am I going to attend a ping-pong show sober? How am I going to convince Wes to get a tattoo without a few Jaeger bombs?

We had our two last days in Bangkok. Thailand seemed to put a ban on any form of fun. No music, no boxing and definitely no seedy entertainment. It rounded off a pretty disappointing 12 days in Thailand.

Some bars sold beer...in paper cups

I felt that Thailand isn’t really made for me. The type of people that usually holiday there are those who have gotten bored of going to Benidorm. I could feel my IQ dropping by the day.

I had a great time in Southeast Asia, but 6 weeks of heavy drinking with little rest is truly exhausting. I’m a broken man. I feel like Benjamin Button when he was just born. The doctor examines him and says:

“He’s nearly blind from cataracts…I’m not sure he can hear. His bones indicate severe arthritis. His skin has lost all elasticity. His hands and feet are ossified…shows all the deterioration, the infirmities, not of a newborn, but of a man well in his 80’s on the way to the grave.” 

I know exactly how that baby felt. I’m just hoping a black couple will adopt me.

Those who have been following Wes on Snapchat have enjoyed our exploits. We've had many compliments from our humorous endeavours as we're a great big man little man combination. We're up there with the greats; Schwarzenegger and De Vito, Johnson and Hart, Crouch and Defoe, Burrows and Fennell. We'll soon have the credibility we deserve.

I’m looking forward to some stability in my life again. My diet has primarily been pad Thai and Jaeger bombs, if I have any hydration and nutrition it might collapse from the shock. 

Christmas in the Philippines: Tropical Climates, White Beaches, and Midget Boxing

It was another Christmas away from home, but this year I decided to spend it in the Philippines. Trading in the bitter cold and snow for warm climates and white beaches. It was a good trade.

The Philippines consists of 7,107 islands. I managed to see a few of them but mainly from the plane a few thousand feet up. Unfortunately I’m not Michael Palin with the backing of the BBC and as I only had a week there I opted to visit the island of Palawan and the capital, Manila. It was a good thing that I was only there for a week, if I had stayed any longer people would have started to think that I was the first ever recorded white pygmy.

A huge Christmas party ensued upon my arrival at my hostel. Hog roast, cheap beer, a Bob Marley tribute band, and great company. It was a great welcome. Drinking games followed and after one of the guys won a £2.50 bottle of rum he said “you can’t go to bed until you help me finish this bottle of rum”. I couldn’t let the guy down. 

Christmas Day followed, no hangover, so a few of us took some mopeds up the coast to the beach. This was first real test on a moped with Nagtabon beach about 40km away. And allow me to quote the website that I booked the moped with “you can trust booking with [name of motorbike hire company] as our fleet is almost brand new and well maintained.” When I got the bike it had 100,000 kilometres on the clock and the brakes didn’t work. It had been ridden more times than Katie Price. Add to this that I only had an hour experience riding from the previous day, and the general lack of road safety in the Philippines it was a case of being thrown in the deep end. Riding in the Philippines is an event, you’ve got to be wary of; people, roosters, goats, cows, dogs, and the occasional market in the road, as well as the oncoming traffic as overtaking is very common and no one waits for a safe opportunity. They pull out when they want and toot their horn to signal that they are doing so. It was on the way to the beach that I realised that I forgot to organise my medical insurance before I departed Korea. (Sorry Mum, for obvious reasons I didn’t mention any of this when I spoke to you!)

Made it safely to the beach and back. Frolicked in the sea, and had a barbeque Christmas lunch.

On Boxing Day I left the town of Puerto Princesa and headed north to the small town of El Nido. A little known paradise surrounded by hundreds of islands. It was here that I did a boat tour and tried my hand at snorkelling. The idea of snorkelling seems really fun, you get to discover an underwater world of coral reefs, tropical fish, and sea turtles. But, in reality, it’s a bloody nightmare. The coordination that is required is untold. First, you have the unnatural sensation of breathing underwater (I never got used to that), then trying to film the occasion with my camera, all while staying afloat so that I don’t drown. I went back for a life jacket to eliminate the chance of death, and it was a bit easier. The guides have the cheek to tell you don’t touch the coral, but some of it is so shallow and the depth perception of the water is deceiving, so before you know it you’re dragging your legs across the sharp jagged coral, after which you then wince and panic and breathe in the sea water. And you go through all this to see some fish. It is much easier just to go to Pets At Home.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in the shallow waters, on the beach, and enjoying the incredible scenery. I know, I went to an amazing place and all I’m doing is moaning about it. 

My feeble attempt at snorkelling can be seen in this video.

A couple of days later I flew from the island of Palawan to the capital city of Manila where I spent my final day before I headed back to Korea. I only booked one day here, and I’m glad I did. There’s not an awful lot to see or do during the day in Manila, unless you like the look of a run-down city and churches. Getting around the city is a nightmare too, the taxi drivers are arseholes, and when you finally get in one you spend most of your journey in traffic. On my return journey from Fort Santiago I opted to take the metro - that was a mistake. You don’t know cramped train cars until you’ve been on the Manila metro. Tighter than a duck’s arse.

As the metro was too cramped I got a Jeepney back to my hotel. Jeepneys are American military vehicles left over from World War 2, now they are a popular means of transportation. The only requirement to drive one is that you must be mentally unstable. As the Philippines is a Catholic country the drivers have Christian reminders around the cockpit. The one I was in had a sign which read “Jesus will guide me”. Rumour has it that Jesus could perform miracles, but I don’t trust him to guide a 70-year-old anti-Nazi bus indirectly via a Filipino who probably traded his license for a few mangos and a couple of bottles of San Miguel. If the bus crashes, as an atheist, it’s the end of the road for me. Quite literally. I managed to walk away from another near death experience.

The nights in Manila are certainly more entertaining than the days. I happened to stumble across the dodgiest bars in the city and even found one that hosted midget boxing (their use of the word, not mine), it seemed like a sight not to be missed, and I was right. I walked into the bar to see some slightly overweight, scantily dressed girls dancing awkwardly in a miniature boxing ring. I ordered an overpriced beer and it was time for the fight, also refereed by a dwarf. The fight lasted three minutes. Three minutes during which I questioned, where am I? What is happening? Is this legal? It concluded a very peculiar night.

If you like dodgy bars, and aggressive prostitutes then Manila might be the city for you.

Seonyudo Island: I'm Not As Brave As I Used to Be

I’ve been back in Korea for only 6 weeks and I’ve already had 2 holidays. Unfortunately, my holiday doesn’t really coincide with other private institutions so I opted to go on this mini adventure alone. I decided to go to 선유도 Seonyudo, a group of islands off the west coast of Korea. The islands are connected via bridges allowing you to leisurely cycle around. It was the perfect remedy for 4 weeks of stress-less work (since the last holiday I went on to Jeju Island).

It took 5 hours to get there from Seoul (3½ on the coach and 1½ on the ferry), but it was totally worth it. It’s stunning. The colour I associate Korea with is grey. Grey buildings, grey sky, grey rivers, but here there was a spectrum of colour. Blue sky, green islands, white sand, and the sea was clean. Not like the murky waters of the Han River, it was clean, and a rich blue. It was worth the journey to end up somewhere that felt more like the Caribbean than Korea.

The islands are remote. There are about 3 shops, 4 restaurants, no ATMs and no wifi. I was cut off from the world. I rented a bicycle, paid the ₩10,000 (£6) fee, no questions asked, no record of my ID, just a “bring it back tomorrow” attitude. I love Korea. I spent the afternoon cycling around the southern islands before retiring to the beach, with a beer…or 3.

After spending the night in a love motel (which was rather depressing as I spent the night alone) I explored the northern islands and again later returned to the beach to relax and sit in the shade…with a beer…or 3.

Along the beach runs a 700m zip line. The departure point of the line is 50m up a tower. I lounged on the beach and watched many people (adults, children, old ladies) zip across the beach. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the joyous mood I was in, but I decided to give it a go. I paid the ₩15,000 (£10) (I got a “handsome man” discount of ₩5,000 (£3)), and got the lift to the top of the tower. The doors opened and I immediately thought that this was a bad idea. The scenery was amazing, but the prospect of jumping from 50m was not. Since doing a skydive I’ve developed a fear of heights.

Alongside me in the lift was a couple. Being the English gentleman that I am I protested that they went first. They were scared but they did it. Now it was my turn and the only people around to judge me were the staff. I told the guy that I wasn’t doing it. He argued with me, and even tried to grab me to hook my harness to the zip line. I ducked and dived and evaded him. I was back in the lift and was heading down.

The doors opened again, this time on the ground floor. The staff who helped me into my harness then helped me out of it. They were pleasantly understanding until the “boss” turned up and he was more than happy to laugh in my face. He explained that there would be no refunds, but to be honest, I’d have paid another £10 not to have done it.

I’m not Bear Grylls. I’m not an “adrenaline junkie”. I don’t need to chase the next high. If I want that addictive “high” sensation I’ll start taking heroin. At this stage in my life I am officially ruling out bungee jumping, base jumping, zip lining, or any activity that requires me to jump from a considerable height. I’m not as brave as I used to be, but there’s no shame in that.

I went to the shop, got some more beers, resumed my position on the beach and continued to watch the brave/stupid people on the zip line.

It was a great few days away and I learnt a lot about myself.

Barcelona: It Didn't Take Long for Bedford to Become Boring

It took a mere two weeks of being home to become boring, so I needed a new adventure. Plans were discussed, flights and a hotel were booked and before I knew it I was off to Catalonia with Karl and Bof, two friends from university. It was a great excuse to meet up with Bof having not seen him for 18 months. It was less exciting to see Karl on the other hand, if anything I've seen him too much in recent times.

The first afternoon and evening was spent in the many bars around the Las Rambla region in Barcelona's city centre. I'd like to say that we sampled the local beers of Catalonia, but it was mainly just San Miguel. We drank a lot of them, so maybe that's a positive review? Although, I've been known to drink a cocktail of Tesco Value vodka and lemonade. If anyone from the San Miguel marketing team is reading this and they want a quote, the Tefl-on Don says "San Miguel's alright".

Tuesday was a stunning day, we spent the afternoon taking in the sights of the city from a rooftop bus. It's the best way to see a city that boasts churches as its main attractions. Take a picture from the bus and move on. We did stop and have a look at the Sagrada Familia, Barcelona's famous unfinished Catholic church. Apparently construction started in 1882. What the hell have they been doing for 133 years? I'll tell you what they haven't been doing - working! Stop sleeping in the afternoon, get off your arse and get it finished. It's no wonder that their economy is in the pan. Then they have the audacity to try and charge me a €15 entry fee. For what? To have a look around a building site? No thanks.

Lazy builders still haven't finished the Sagrada Familia

The bus tour took us to the other sites of Barcelona including the Columbus Monument, The Olympic Stadium, and around the foothills of Mount Tibidabo where we went hiking. We were at the end of this path, and we came to a clearing, and there was a lake, very secluded, and there were tall trees all around. It was dead silent. Gorgeous. And across the lake I saw, a beautiful woman, bathing herself. She was crying...

The Columbus Monument - Christopher Columbus pointing towards America (apparently he's pointing in the wrong direction!)

The evening rolled around and it was time for the main event - Camp Nou. A visit to Barcelona isn't worthwhile without taking in the "tiki-taka" playing style of FC Barcelona.

We arrived at the ground in plenty of time, in hope to pay a visit to the club museum and take in the pre-game atmosphere. Unfortunately neither happened. The queue for the museum was enormous and atmosphere - what atmosphere? Where were the local fans? The majority of people there were tourist fans such as myself. Barcelona is a gigantic club that has attracted a worldwide fan base, but they've traded in their essence. It's resulted in the commercialisation of literally everything. Before the game you must pick up an FC Barcelona toasted sandwich maker, and an FC Barcelona toothbrush. How did I ever get by without them? And I know this is a very hypocritical summary as I was a tourist fan, and an Arsenal supporter, a club notoriously known for doing the exact same thing. But it's a grind a have with modern football.

Into the stadium and it is awe inspiring. The sheer magnitude of it is rather incomprehensible. Despite the capacity being 99,354 it is not that steep, but rather wide. The view is good even from the top and it's the perfect setting for an evening game. Then the teams are announced and it's exactly what I've been hoping for - Neymar, Suarez, and Messi all start. I feel truly privileged that Thierry Henry and Dennis Bergkamp once wore the red of the Arsenal, but when you hear the names that have represented Barcelona you certainly feel envious of the magnitude of the club. Players like Ronaldinho, Rivaldo, Ronaldo, Cruyff, Maradona, Xavi, Iniesta...and Hleb, the way the front three play together the fans should be honoured that they get to watch the most exciting front line in world football right now.

The show that the current XI put on that evening was majestic. Barcelona destroyed mid-table Getafe and were 5-0 to the good by half time. The team play so well and pass the ball effortlessly. It finished 6-0 and I left a little disappointed that there was only one goal in the second half. Only one of very few disappointments with going to see Barcelona play.

The crowd was subdued. Maybe this was because it was a Tuesday night game, or because it wasn't a sell out, or maybe it was to do with the thousands of tourists at the game. Of the 65,356 people there there were around 200 fans that made noise throughout.

The next stadium I go to will struggle to follow the Camp Nou.

Back to Bedford and back to work. I wonder how long it will be before I'm planning the next trip...