I am typing in the hotel lobby of the Hotel Peninsular on Carrer Sant Pau or something like that, off of La Rambla, in Barcelona. It used to be a monastery. Now prostitutes meander outside the front door. I do not want to be here, but Chuck and I have made the best of the last two days, visiting with my friend Indi Young, who is here for some conference in Barcelona with really smart people.
None of these smart people are in this hotel, but some of them are waiting to use this computer, so I cannot type much more.
We did see the Parque Guell (sp?). Worth it. And the exterior of the Iglesia de la Familia Sagrada. Worth it.
Dealing with waiters who insist on speaking English when Spanish would be so much easier. So not worth it. Get me out of here.
Tomorrow morning, as soon as we can, we catch a train to Zaragoza. Maria Jesus will be waiting for us at the station. I do not know if I will be able to update this blog before we fly home on Friday, but I hope to.
I apologize for the lack of information.I wanted to tell you about our bike ride that took us to the Pyrenees, that made me cry tears of happiness when it was over. I did not want to board the train to Barcelona yesterday. Girona was starting to feel like home.
On to Zaragoza. Thank God. Barcelona with drunk tourists is a very nasty place.
