We were in full detox mode, so we walked from Catalunya Square to a smoothie place up the street. After some much-needed veggies and fruit, we were well on our way to a great day. Take a peek at the stunning architecture we saw...
In a week's time, the Rose Festival was on. Men have to give women flowers and women betroth books on her man. Who knew?
La Rambla: Main Street, Barcelona
Wicked in-market bakery where employees insisted they not be in the picture and where we scored a sweet multigrain baguette.
Gracia is clearly the cured meat, cheese, and all around good food district.
Awesome bakery in Gracia. We opted for a piece of gingerbread that was really a slice of cake heaven.
Gorgeous heirloom tomato...mmmm
View from a peak of Parque Guell. It had taken us more than an hour to hike it from Catalunya to the Parque. It was a strange mix of all things Alice and Wonderland mixed with, almost Canada's Wonderland. Not so Spanish: not so great.
This was a very famous park we'd heard so much about and put far too much stock in. The place was crawling with tourists (the ones who wear sneakers with white socks and sport fanny packs. Those are the WORST) and it had no grass. Um, we came here for the grass. We brought food and everything. How are we expected to eat our lunch here (a stunning array of tomatos, homemade tapinade [that sadly I dropped just before getting into the park, breaking the jar and rendering it inedible], fresh bread, cheese-stuffed pimentos, and homemade gingerbread cake for dessert)? Huh? We ate on a cement bench and were left a little jilted. What kind of place was this?
This Spanish Elvis impersonator was just too much. Needless to say, we were glad to be getting out of this park.
View of the city left much to be desired. However, it was neat to be up so high.
From here, we headed to the beach where, completely uncharacteristically of me, I took zero photographs. My mind was elsewhere, I suppose. It was here I was getting text after text from Laura, updating me on her (now stable, then just aggravating for her) pregnancy status. I love being able to talk to them, you, whenever the need or desire arises. I love modern technology for keeping me this close to all of you all the time. Swoon. Lots of love felt here tonight.
Anyway, we headed to get a drink before our beloved Woki (a Japanese stir-fry restaurant and organic health food store) opened up at 8:30. We started in a restaurant with the worst service known to man, laughed our heads off at the incompetence of the waiters, then headed to this place, where ridiculousness ensued.
One litre of mojito? Why not.
The wife behind us was not so thrilled with me after I mauled her husband for ordering a mojito like the one we are downing here. Still, I think we got along alright.
And when the second one-litre mojito arrived, the good mood was really flowing.
Back at Woki, overlooking the ocean, we talked about some pretty deep issues over our noodles and broccoli. Good times.
This guy thinks so.
Good friends, good food, good measurements of a day well spent.
Unfortunately, we missed the bus that would take us back to Leire and Enrique's house, so we sheepishly called them at, oh 11 pm. What a pair. Leire told us to take the train as far as Molins and she'd come to get us there. At 11:45. Good god, did I feel bad or what (not that you can tell from the above picture)?
Still, a good day ;)
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