Barcelona (Part Uno Of As Many As I Can Stretch It Out To)

Three generations palling around Spain.

Okay enough about The German, let me tell you how the rest of my trip with my mom and grandma went.

I have to say, I love spending time with both of them. They are two of my best friends. But like any close female relative relationship, there are only so many "Do you think my purse is going to be safe??" questions I can handle before the eye-rolling ensues.

I think living in large urban cities like New York and Berlin has left me with a constant, subconscious surveillance of my surroundings versus a periodic panic about my safety, as is the case when you are a visitor in a foreign land. This was coupled with my mistake of warning them that while Germans are a civilized people, Spaniards shouldn't be trusted (based a few '07 backpacking trip compadres getting pick-pocketed on the Metro). It resulted in borderline paranoia.

My mom at the Berlin airport: "Take off your money belt when you go through security so it doesn't look like you have a bomb strapped to you." Dolo: "Good idea." Me: "Why the hell are you need to wear a money belt on the airplane? Dolo: "So we are secure when we get off the plane." Me: "What do you possibly think will happen at the arrival gate?" God love 'em.

So with the exception of our taxi driver's Catalan road rage and the fact he failed to put on the parking break on our hilly hotel street and we started to roll backward after he got out, it was smooth sailing. Or at least nothing that could have been prevented from wearing that damn money belt. (I just cannot get past how sticking your hands down your pants to fetch a few euros is a better idea than a wallet, but whatever, I will get on with my life.)

Anyway, I love those crazy ladies and will miss having them around to iron my clothes and laugh at my stories. But I was glad to have the opportunity to explore Barcelona together before they set sail on their Mediterranean cruise, especially since Dolo has been dying to visit Spain since like forever. When we landed she said, “It’s like I’m meant to be here.” Yes, Dolo, in another life you might have been Spanish. I mean, her name is Dolorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrres after all.

And to make the trip even more fun, my UT KKG pal Ellen flew up from Southern Spain where she is teaching English. Last spring when she got accepted into a program, I made my gchat away message “Barcelona 2012” in hopes that I might be able to come visit. Who would have thought that it would come true (a few months early) because I would already be living in Europe? No one, that's who. 

Since we were only there for a short time, we decided to see it all. Being kind of a tourist snob, I usually turn my nose up at site seeing rides, but mi madre had heard that the hop on hop off buses were the way to go. With great weather (much warmer than what I’ve been dealing with in Berlin, I forgot how much I prefer it), it was a perfect decision.

Here are a few photos:                                                                                

Our chariot. Or one of the 1000 identical buses.

Beautiful buildings, beautiful landscape, beautiful weather.

Because there are not enough creepy pictures of me on the Internet.

A cathedral. It was surprisingly old as well as beautiful. Really don't make 'em like they used to, huh?

The inside was also old and pretty.

I was obsessed with this paint job. Guess I wasn't the only one.

False advertising. What I wouldn't do for some legit migas right about now.

Surprise archaeology tour? Why not. Thanks for being way cooler than just a bunch of old things in glass boxes, Barcelona History Museum.

Don't those things look like dinosaur eggs? Well they are not. The Romans used them to make a weird fish bone sauce. Tasty!

That's all for now. Considering my lack of blogworthy activities this week, I've decided to break up the pictures for your viewing pleasure. How thoughtful, I know. It's like I am trying to be a real blogger or something. Don't get used to it. Or I'll go back to fawning all over The German. I have some great stories about us holding hands in public. Too much, I know!