Now there’s a thought. I’m an admitted F1 junkie, there’s no denying that. But as I wake up today I face a quandary. It’s 27 degrees (but forecast to be cooler tomorrow and wet on Sunday), so do I hit the beach and soak up the sun? (I did bring a new bikini after all, mum having told me my beloved O’Neil number was so old, it’s lack of elasticity was verging on obscene.) But I need to collect my tickets from the F1 booth at the circuit, practice starts today and it’s my first chance to hear that amazing roar that is an F1 car. Or given I’ll be at the circuit tomorrow and Sunday, should I try and see a bit of Barcelona?

The beach wins first place!

Well, bop me down with a soft cushion, I donned the new bikini (which, incidentally, had to be a replacement O’Neil number), my über comfy beachwear from Oz (courtesy of Between the Flags) and I head for the ocean! There’s nothing quite like the sound of the ocean, especially early in the morning or late in the evening. Since Port Douglas, I’ve totally fallen for it; sarong, shades and sunscreen. If I’m not careful I’ll find myself with a good book taking up reading!

but the draw of the paddock is too enticing

Now it’s a known fact that, after midday, it’s dangerous to bask in the sun, right? So I wander back to the hotel, swap my bikini for my camera, and I decide to head to the track.

Right. The track. As I’ve already been this week, I didn’t bother researching it’s location… So where is it? No idea. So how do I get there? Even less idea. The traffic round town looks horrendous so I’m guessing tram, train or metro? Given it’s a huge event, I’m also guessing there’ll be some pre-arranged public transport? So my plan is, head for the main station in town and ask at Information. Simples 🙂

Tickets?

So I descend beneath the windy streets of the Forum district, buy a 2-day travelcard and hop on the first train that comes along, getting off at what, I’m guessing, is the main station (based on the fact it has the most connections listed on the Metro map?!) For some reason, I assume my travelcard wont work out of the city, so when the Senõr on the Information desk tells me I need to go to Montmeló, I buy a ticket. At an extortionate €2.20, I expect it was probably covered on my travelcard, as it can’t be far! But hey, for €2.20 I’m not bothered.

So I’m on the train to Montmeló when Mr Petronas texts me: “3 minutes to practise, are you at the track yet?” I have to confess about my little trip to the beach but tell him I’m on my way there now. As long as I get my tickets from the F1 booth… Oh crap, the voucher I have to hand over to get my tickets… It’s safely stashed away, in my hotel room! Nooooooo! Well I have a copy on my phone, let’s hope they’ll accept that instead? We’ll soon see, just arriving at Montmeló…

ttfn /Rxx