Last weekend I had a bit on an adventure. In Barcelona, of all places. A close friend (G for anyone who has read my book) is getting married soon, and I joined a crowd of twelve others for a 'Stag' weekend of food and beverage in the Catalan capital.
Easyjet from Gatwick was, well, Easy. I was allowed to sit in the first row, and therefore I could get onto the plane in my own chair and transfer myself into the seat, thus saving on the wait for baggage handlers and 'aisle chairs'. I'm sure the airline has worked out that this means they can turn the flight around quicker, but it certainly works for me.
Barcelona is a magnificent city. It has beautiful architecture, labarynthine side streets and alleyways, bustling markets, Gaudi(obviously), a beach and marina, and all of it is wheelchair accessible. Except the beach. Obviously.
The taxi drivers were unphased by my chair, and happy to stash it in the boot or on the back seat. Most shops and bars were accessible, and the paving and streets, while a bit on the 'cobbly' side, had slopes and ramps subtly incorporated.
We were well received, considering our visit coincided with England playing Andorra in Barcelona on the same weekend, and confused groups of men in England shirts stopping and asking "Where are all the pubs?" No, really.
I felt like saying, "You're in a different country. They have bars. Basically the same thing. I'm sure you'll work it out." I didn't.
I spoke to a taxi driver about the Olympics, and he said that it was one of the best things that had ever happened to Barcelona, and it was certainly obvious that the 'legacy' (that word so often bandied about with regard to the London games) has been successful. The public spaces are generously proportioned, contemporary in style, and well used. One can sense that the people of Barcelona are proud of them.
The other legacy is from the Paralympics, and is in evidence in the many and subtle small scale efforts that have gone into making the city fully accessible. But it is also in evidence in the attitude of the Barcelona taxi drivers. No driving past and refusing to stop if the punter is a wheelchair user, as is the wont of many a London cabbie, sadly. Maybe there's a few more bits of knowledge they should brush up on...
Easyjet from Gatwick was, well, Easy. I was allowed to sit in the first row, and therefore I could get onto the plane in my own chair and transfer myself into the seat, thus saving on the wait for baggage handlers and 'aisle chairs'. I'm sure the airline has worked out that this means they can turn the flight around quicker, but it certainly works for me.
Barcelona is a magnificent city. It has beautiful architecture, labarynthine side streets and alleyways, bustling markets, Gaudi(obviously), a beach and marina, and all of it is wheelchair accessible. Except the beach. Obviously.
The taxi drivers were unphased by my chair, and happy to stash it in the boot or on the back seat. Most shops and bars were accessible, and the paving and streets, while a bit on the 'cobbly' side, had slopes and ramps subtly incorporated.
We were well received, considering our visit coincided with England playing Andorra in Barcelona on the same weekend, and confused groups of men in England shirts stopping and asking "Where are all the pubs?" No, really.
I felt like saying, "You're in a different country. They have bars. Basically the same thing. I'm sure you'll work it out." I didn't.
I spoke to a taxi driver about the Olympics, and he said that it was one of the best things that had ever happened to Barcelona, and it was certainly obvious that the 'legacy' (that word so often bandied about with regard to the London games) has been successful. The public spaces are generously proportioned, contemporary in style, and well used. One can sense that the people of Barcelona are proud of them.
The other legacy is from the Paralympics, and is in evidence in the many and subtle small scale efforts that have gone into making the city fully accessible. But it is also in evidence in the attitude of the Barcelona taxi drivers. No driving past and refusing to stop if the punter is a wheelchair user, as is the wont of many a London cabbie, sadly. Maybe there's a few more bits of knowledge they should brush up on...
Dear Tim,
I have been meaning to write to you for quite a while now, ever since I read your book while on vacation this summer, cruising the eastern United States coastline.
I dont know if you remember me, but I sure remember you. Here's the image: you and Chris (sporting an impressive mohawk)having a pint at the annual 'Parkfest'.
I'm Claude's sister. You know the guy you used to do all kinds of bad deeds with in sleepy Reichenau ?
Eugene has keept me posted on your many challenges and accomplishments. I must say I was totally blown away by your book. It captivated me like no other. I cant say if its because of the subject, the writing style or the fact that I know you...Now my 17 year old son is also reading it and loving it. It changes my whole perspective on the matter of lifes many unfair challenges as well as on wheelchairs and disabilaty. By the way, please forgive my english, I'm better versed in french.
I need to tell you how much I admire you're spirit. I am sure I would never have had the moral strengh to get to the point you are at now. I also have to say that Penny is my hero.
I know you've heard it all before, probably as many times as the number of people you have spoken to, but it truly comes from the heart.
I'm trying to keep up with the many entries of your blog, since I came to know of it just recently. I will keep in touch.
Sending you and your lovely family a huge hug.
Marie-Christine.
Sadly the mohawk has given way to a style involving considerably less hair.
All the best
Chris