After my jaunt to London, I quickly returned to Prague for one night to pack up my remaining things, then set off the next morning for Barcelona. Viktorya was working when I arrived, so I put my giant suitcases in a left luggage locker at the airport and went off to the beach with an overnight bag and my trusty laptop, where I spent a few hours starring out at the Meditteranean Sea, having a café con leche, and chatting on ichat.
Once I'd met up with Viktorya, it was already past 7 pm, so we went for a small dinner, then had a glass of wine at a cafe nearby before going back to her house and going to bed. I met the woman from the apartment rental agency the next morning, then went to the airport to gather my luggage and friend. We had some yummy jamon serrano and queso in a plaza in Gracia (near the apartment), then relaxed for a while before heading out to dinner and then to meet Viktorya and her friends at a club near Diagonal for some reggae.
The next day we woke up fairly early and enjoyed a light lunch and coffee on the square near our apartment.
From there, it was off to the beach for a few hours. After we had some bacalao and calamari at a cafe next to the sea, then went back to the apartment for a little store bought gazpacho and bread before going over to Viktorya's to head off to watch fireworks for Sant Joan.
Sant Joan is basically Barcelona's equivalent of New Year's Eve and is celebrated by setting off fireworks
all day long. Not the pretty fireworks that you may remember from July 4th celebrations, but the really loud booming ones that sound like bombs going off. While Viktorya's friends took a cab up to Park Güell to watch the fireworks, Viktorya, Ken and I decided it would be more fun to walk up the hill, nearly getting attacked by an errant firework rocket zooming out of the bushes a mere foot from our faces.
Other than the city sounding like it was under siege (and me quaking in fear for nearly an hour), we did get to see some beautiful fireworks which made up for the ambush earlier. Obviously, everyone had a great time, as evidenced by Mateo's nap.
Scars are the new designer sunglasses!
Yes, look at my scar, it is hott.
Since we were in Park Güell for nearly two hours, we were all left with no choice but to desecrate one of Gaudi's most important monuments and relieve ourselves of our animal tendencies right there on the pavement. Boys, of course, can aim
over the ledge, but us girls had to resort to other methods.
Still, we thought it looked artistic.
Artistic enough to
pose with it.
Then we left Park Güell, initially on our way to a house party.
Ken and Jude invented a game, a hybrid of baseball, cricket, and something British people call "rounders," which sounds like baseball for the weak and elderly. Anyway, it was dubbed "crocket" and was played with an apple and an empty bottle of wine.
Since the house party never happened, we wound up at a bar in Gracia, where I snapped this fabulous signature.
It makes me want to sing!
We headed back home after a beer, and woke up the next morning hungry for ... paella! We set off again for Barceloneta, to a famous old time paella place called Can Solé. I wisely documented this food journey.
Jamon and foie gras croquettes.
Yummy paella.
An ice creamy thing.
From there it was a few hours at the beach, of course.
That night we went for dinner at a very lovely restaurant on our street called Miriot, then met Viktorya and friends to go to a small house party in Born. Which was on the mellow side, but I wasn't complaining since our night before had been a little intense, what with 8 million fireworks going off the entire time.
The next morning we had a nice lunch in the plaza near the apartment.
Then it was off to find a pub to watch the England v. Ecuador game in Barri Gotic, followed by meeting Viktorya for a ride up the Montjüic FUNicular. But those photos are part of Part II, in which my camera breaks, once and for all.
