We started our last day here by going for a run in the park and then walking along the beach hoping to find the room key I lost down there last night while I was having too much fun at the Sardine Festival. But no go on the key situation.
And then we said goodbye to all of our old Barcelona haunts, some of which insisted that we stay for a glass of wine.
In packing, I realized that on one hand it’s pretty ridiculous that I have to drag all of this charging paraphernalia around with me every day to be able to use my various electronic devices. On the other hand, one of the books I’m reading on this trip is Stephen Ambrose’s account of the Lewis and Clark expedition, which makes me realize that I don’t really have it so bad.
At some point, it becomes less “graffiti” and more “street art.”
Farewell to the entertaining store names around here, like:
Duck Store, perfect for a very specific, niche market.
Surprisingly, there was almost nothing in here made of wood.
I would say something snarky about the name of this store, which only sells sunglasses, but they apparently have locations all over Europe, so I guess it’s my problem rather than theirs.
Your guess is as good as mine.
Farewell to this guy, whose massive portrait just outside my room in Praia da Sol in Portugal ensured that I could never quite relax unless I locked the door.
And on a self-referential note, Martha and I were walking through the old town yesterday and we passed the manager of a bar we’ve eaten at a couple of times. She recognized me and yelled across the street the Spanish equivalent of “Hey, dude, how’s it going? Come on back and hang out here sometime.” And we had a little yelling conversation for a couple of minutes across the street from each other, which just made me so happy. Now I want to live here.
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