There's so many things wrong with my body it's ridiculous: I've got some weird lump under my left eyelid and it hurts every time I blink; my legs keep seizing up, I'm freezing, I've got lumps (mosquito bites?) everywhere on my arms and hands and a scarier lump under my armpit.
But thats not the point. I just feel like moaning. On the contrary, Barcelona was fantastic and I was surprised. I knew there was some architecture but I didn't think that our apartment on top of this five storey flat (in Barca there is no houses) would be so lovely and PINK, neither that it would be right outside the Sagrada Familia - the famous Cathedral by Gaudi, the only one in the world still in construction. At night it gets lit up and you can see all of the delicious detail. Also, at night the top windows light up with some eerie green light and as you watch the cathedral to-be in the pedrestrain square, drinking your Sex on the Beach you start to dream and wonder about all the ghostly monks and nuns and bishops - the brick was lain in 1869, after all. After I ate (and I've been eating properly all holiday to keep the peace between me and Dad, but that's over now.) I really loved it there. I wore long sleeves all week, and no one really noticed, I didn't feel so judged, I didn't feel as if I stood out like a sore thumb or I didn't exist at all. I just felt like a part of the city.
On the first day we were so exhausted we hardly did anything. We were supposed to relax even though I was up till 2-4am each night reading the fifth Harry Potter book or a bit of Middlesex by Eugenides. I did relax on the veranda where it's a little scary to look over but you can people watch and really enjoy yourself. Most strenuating was the Metro (air-conditioned, a welcome change from the London Undergroud - otherwise I found it misleading at times.)
On the second and third day we went round on tour buses round Barca getting off now and then. I loved the contrast with mountains and the ocean. It wasn't even too busy. One of my favourite moments was getting into this beach restaurant place and watching all of these muscle mary's enjoy their beers with their boyfriends while my bro and Dad chattered away.
But anway, I wrote a couple of mini-essays and I'll write them up tomorrow when I've got my mind off death. I failed to do that in Barcelona, but that was the fault of the aeroplanes and using cable cars over 100 feet up that felt overcrowded and fireworks barely missing your ears, and with scary lifts that with anyone taller than 4"2, claustrophobia is rife.
Nah, I loved the place. I have to go back, I really do. I didn't see any museums (apart from the one in the Sagrade Famillia), I didn't go to any art galleries and I certainly didn't shop. Also, I really loved the language. I don't know much spanish, and they didn't know much ingles so we had to work together. I liked it like that as we had to compromise and really try to connect. Anyway, I'm slightly sozzled and very down. And on a private note, :) Disgruntled Moose for your esteemed email (I'm not even sure that makes sense). One thing's for certain: this Barcelona trip has really loosened my creativity...