jen, this is for you.

okay, so, as a little background to this, by the time we got to barcelona, we'd been on the road for two and a half weeks, and spain had not exactly opened its arms to welcome us. despite the ruggedly amazing terrain (which we seemingly drove through ALL of, starting at the pyrenees, wending through la mancha, finding our way to the sierra nevadas and the south coast and then back up the eastern coast en route to france), we felt utterly alien in spain. i don't know why this is; i'm loath to blame the feeling entirely on our lack of language skills, but i'm not discounting that completely. forunately, the tide started to turn during our brief respite in orgiva, where we met up with some of dom's friends for three days of rest, company, books in english, amazing food and just...being. we'd truly hit the point where all we wanted to do was stand still for a minute. and, frankly, there's nowhere better to do it than the sleepy southern mountain town of orgiva, especially in the company of a pair of people so amazingly wonderful, brilliant and generous as g and j. we were road-weary, tired of hotel beds, tired of driving, and tired of having to make every single bloody decision for ourselves in alien tongues--orgiva was a cold bottle of water when we needed it most.

but i digress.

barcelona was the last stop on our spanish sojourn; i'd been a few years ago, but i had only stayed a few days and all i'd gotten was a case of bronchitis. as such, i didn't have the pleasantest of memories; and i really wanted to change that. so, we booked ourselves into a hotel, prepared to have some fun in the sun in the catalan capital.

well, fun in the sun once we a) found our hotel, b) found a place to park the car and c) found a map so we could figure out where the hell we were, and where we were going (note to self: when going to a country where you don't know your way around and don't know the language, TRY NOT TO FORGET THE GUIDEBOOK AND THE PHRASEBOOK NEXT TIME). in case you haven't heard, parking in barcelona is. a. fucking. nightmare. eight hundred million cars, fifteen parking spots on the street. unless you want to get scuppered by the police, your only option is to stick your car in a garage and pay the exorbitant prices. which seems like a terrible idea at first, until you realize that the charge cap hits after ten hours, and if you stay for 24, you're only paying for ten.

then, parking garages seem like a good idea. however, we were obstinate for about a day before we gave into that.

however, give in we did, and thank goodness. in barcelona, we saw gaudi architecture (the segrada familia thing--gorgeous and weird, and thanks to the spanish civil war and its accompanying civic brutalities, in the process of being completely rebuilt--estimated time of completion, 2015), the view of the city from the top of El Corte Ingles (stunning), and the cathedral, and had a great wander around the remains of the Old City, stopping to catch our breath next to a fountain surrounded by orange trees. We had a glorious meander around the gothic quarter, which is absolutely gorgeous, and conveniently where we found the sushi restaurant where we had dinner.

you know, i can hear you scoffing from here. but let me tell you: you try eating nothing but ham and white bread and olives for three days, and tell me YOU wouldn't jump at the opportunity to eat your favorite food, even if you're far from home. yeah.

we were excited to find the sushi place; excited enough to overlook the fact that the avocado in the salmon avocado rolls was tough enough to be unchewable, forget inedible, and also to overlook that our waitress barely spoke any language other than japanese, which made ordering exciting. however, divine miso soup and an extremely large bottle of wine made the evening that much more enjoyable.

it doesn't sound as exciting when i write about it here; i know i'm not capturing how much i love barcelona's tree-lined streets, its gorgeous architecture and laid-back approach to the world. how absolutely beautiful i find it, and how in my haziest daydreams, i think i could imagine living there some day (in the way that i can imagine living in austin, or paris, or norwich). how one memory, of lunch in a perfect little square, with perfect tapas and perfect weather, will stay with me until the day i die, warming my toes whenever i think of it.

we worked hard to win spain's esteem, and to win our own esteem of spain. and while i can safely say that we're unlikely to settle there soon, i am very, very glad that we went.

jen, my lamb, what else would you like to know?