Ikea
Andrew and I are in full nesting mode, and tonight we made the requisite trip to Ikea—an easy ten-minute bus ride away. I got a desk, a large shelf for the bathroom, a desk lamp, several baskets, some boxes for my jewelry, and a new pillow; we also got some new things for the kitchen, a new shower curtain, and a lamp for the guest bedroom (now serving as my dressing room).
This is truly a strange Ikea. Built very recently, in a rather desolate area on the outskirts of Barcelona, it’s so new that it’s basically marooned in the middle of a large, complex highway, where lots of cars and scooters are moving at high speeds and making unexpected turns. There are no cross-walks or traffic lights, and concrete construction barriers and netting block the most obvious routes to the store. Once we got off the bus, we had to sprint across the highway when it looked clear. After we were done shopping, we wanted to hail a cab—but there is nowhere for a cab to pull up. There’s not even a way for a cab to pull into the Ikea parking lot. Andrew managed to flag one down on the highway. The cab stopped in the middle of his lane, but we couldn’t get to it very easily; the doors were blocked by construction barriers. The driver backed up a bit so we could get in.
The last time Andrew and I were at Ikea was in August. Andrew had just moved into the new apartment that morning and was wretchedly sick with food poisoning. He should have been home in bed, but there were no sheets for the bed; no glasses to drink from; nothing. So he dragged himself through Ikea. It was not a fun trip. This time was, happily, much better!
This is truly a strange Ikea. Built very recently, in a rather desolate area on the outskirts of Barcelona, it’s so new that it’s basically marooned in the middle of a large, complex highway, where lots of cars and scooters are moving at high speeds and making unexpected turns. There are no cross-walks or traffic lights, and concrete construction barriers and netting block the most obvious routes to the store. Once we got off the bus, we had to sprint across the highway when it looked clear. After we were done shopping, we wanted to hail a cab—but there is nowhere for a cab to pull up. There’s not even a way for a cab to pull into the Ikea parking lot. Andrew managed to flag one down on the highway. The cab stopped in the middle of his lane, but we couldn’t get to it very easily; the doors were blocked by construction barriers. The driver backed up a bit so we could get in.
The last time Andrew and I were at Ikea was in August. Andrew had just moved into the new apartment that morning and was wretchedly sick with food poisoning. He should have been home in bed, but there were no sheets for the bed; no glasses to drink from; nothing. So he dragged himself through Ikea. It was not a fun trip. This time was, happily, much better!
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