Barcelona was delicious. Sorry there are so many photos--we don't usually stay three nights anywhere.
Actually, one of the most memorable episodes was completely unphotographed: When Drue awoke with a possible migraine around 4:15 on the last morning of our visit, I (who speaks no Spanish nor Catalan) was eventually dispatched to walk through el Raval, the largely immigrant and once-red-light neighborhood of inner Barcelona, filled with bodegas and hostels. In the nearly deserted, predawn alleys, I met hushed greetings of "¿Quieres cervesa, amigo? ¿Hashish?" saw nine women waiting for a bus in the dark, and watched men with cans of beer resting on overturned bistro tables shouting jokes and catcalls to the staff of the Brazilian chain bakery that was open early. The pharmacist at the all night farmàcia 1.5 km from our place in the Universitat neighborhood spoke no English but got me fixed up with
algo para dolor de cabeza y náuseas for a fraction of what the same medicine would have cost in Paris.
Now I'm racking my brain to figure out how to get back to Spain.
Meanwhile, three days left in Paris. A week from tonight, we'll be back in the land of the free. Can't wait to see you all and hear about your adventures from these past eight months.
Love,
HD
