“Mom and dad, what’s going on out there, it sounds like we’re being bombed.”

That was an exerpt from my day, but I should begin at the beginning, go on to the end (or the present moment), and then stop.

After a slow start, I met up with my Australian relatives, who just happened to be in Barcelona this week. I didn’t have any plans for my two remaining days except to see some more Gaudí architecture, and they had already seen the main stuff, so I followed their lead, and we went on a cable car up to Montjuïc. Well, partway up Montjuïc; we didn’t realize that it only took you about halfway up. But by that point we were all starving, so we hiked around a bit and found signs for food, and followed them to Mirador D’alcalde (The Mayor’s Outlook), which smelled like pigeons but was otherwise fine, especially in that it had food that two picky boys found acceptable. At that point we looked at a map and realized that we were nearly at the top of the mountain, so we decided to hike rather than take the other cable car to the top. It was a nice walk, and there was a fort/castle at the top of it. We wandered around a bit, and the boys ran around and scrambled over the WWII-era guns, and the rest of us meandered and took pictures, and after a while we discovered that there was an inside bit and sort-of read the Catalan informational pages (Catalan is the main language spoken here, as opposed to Castilian, the Spanish that I’m learning. Everyone here speaks Castilian too, though). The boys found a cistern, and we looked at that, and by that point it was after 5:00 so we headed back, took the cable car the rest of the way down the mountain, dipped our toes in the Mediterranean (or, in the case of the boys, rather more than our toes).
And we headed back to their apartment, and the boys got showers and pizza, and then the adults of the group went out to a nice tapas place. And it was wonderful; the food was all very good. I tried a bit of the wine because my aunt said that my uncle orders good wine; I disliked it even more than the other wine I tried. There were text messages back and forth with the boys periodically during the dinner, during which we received the “it sounds like we’re being bombed” message. Since we were a block and a half away and hadn’t heard anything remotely like that, we thought that they were overreacting, so my uncle sent them back a message saying that it was just the speakers in the plaza, but that if they were worried or had any problems, they should just tell us and one or all of us would come. Their response – “were okay everythings fine”. Once we go outside we heard loud drums, and discovered that there were street-level fireworks just around the corner. When we got back to the apartment, we discovered that they boys had gotten out their dagger letter-openers.

They of course denied that they had been worried, but when the noise level increased, they told us that it had been even worse than that. On the way back we discovered that there was a fire staff-spinner/breather performing in the plaza. I tried to take some pictures, most of which didn’t come out decently – I really need to figure out how to set the exposure time on that thing.

And now my feet hurt, but I had a good day spent with family, and tomorrow I’m going to look at architecture. We’ll also be taking a train to Córdoba tomorrow night. We’re due to arrive by eight Sunday morning.

Goodnight. Pictures coming later.



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6 responses to ““Mom and dad, what’s going on out there, it sounds like we’re being bombed.”

  1. Wine
    My experience with wine is that the “better” it is, the less I like it. I have consistently hated everything I tried that was selected by someone who knows wine. I have on occasion like wince that is described as cheap, common or ordinary.

    • Re: Wine
      My uncle described it as, “Very dry with a strong oak taste,” and what I disliked about the first wines was stronger in this one. I think that what I don´t like is that “dryness,” which, based on my wealth of experience of all of three sips of wine, is supposedly what good wine is.

      • Re: Wine
        I find that the wines I prefer best are the sweet wines, not the dry ones. But don’t whine if no wine is the one you wind up wanting.

        • Re: Wine
          That’s terrible.
          Really, really bad.
          I’ve decided to stop trying wines – there’s no way I’m going to stick any more of that stuff in my mouth on the off chance that I might like some of it.

  2. your post
    It is really cool that you were able to meet up with your Austrailian relatives in Spain!
    Your description of the boys with letter opener daggers made me think of the scene in The Fellowship of the Rig movie where Pippin and Merry try to defend Frodo when Strider comes in.
    I hope you and your suitcases make it to Cordoba.

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