We spent one week in Barcelona and then 4 days in Paris. My parents and siblings flew in for the time in Spain, and then my older brother and his wife flew home, leaving my parents, my younger brother, my men, and my self to make our way to Paris.
Barcelona is big. There is a huge amount to see and to do, and there is something for everyone there. Unfortunately, all eight of us had picked one or two things that did not exist on anyone else's list. We spent a good deal of the trip trying to decide what to do. We did not make it out of the apartment before lunchtime. We generally managed to make it out the door before the yelling began, but before we had an actual plan.
Every single thing I read about Barcelona included a pickpocket warning. We had no need of this warning. Instead, Wendall lost his wallet on our first full day there. As of this moment he has a brand new wallet, but not much to put inside. The replacement cards should arrive soon. None of his cards were used, and we are guessing that the person who found it was far too happy with the cash inside to worry about the cards. My belief is that he dropped it while exiting a taxi directly across the street from our apartment and that his wallet was discovered and disposed of within 20 minutes. We lost some cash, and most of his ID other than his passport, but all was well. He tried to report the loss to the police, but was faced with a two-hour wait, and decided it was not worth the hassle. In the end, I quietly celebrated the loss. Just a few years ago it would have ended the trip for us. We would have had a very difficult time recovering financially, and we (I) would have spent a good deal of the next few days in tears. Instead it was a massive inconvenience. We had less money to spend and the hassle of a few phone calls, but really it was fine. And now we know. A money belt can also protect you from yourself.
We saw all of the major sights in Barcelona. Cathedrals, the beach, the park, and the Monastery on the hill. By the end of the week we had mastered the public transit system and had picked favourite restaurants. So it was obviously time to leave. We packed our bags, spent one last day walking long distances for no reason other than to walk them, and headed down to the train station.
We did have a good time in Barcelona. By the end of the week my father’s rusty Spanish had gathered some shine (even though they don’t really speak Spanish there), we had picked out a favorite café, and we had managed to spend a huge amount of time with one another. Barcelona is not a place I really need to visit again, but I’m glad that I’ve seen it and have good memories.
The best Barcelona story happened on the last day we were all together. We had gone to the beach and were walking back to the Ramblas when we spotted what looked like a man wearing a Spedo and boating shoes. He was carrying a small plastic bag and had stopped to talk to someone. He moved the bag slightly and we realized that he was naked and that the Spedo was a tattoo. I did not get a clear photo of him, but I could not resist a blurry stealth shot, simply to document the moment. He was completely at ease and we saw him again that evening. This time he was walking with the bag at his side. He was fit and trim and easily in his 60's. And yes we did see all.
