A different Homage to Catalunya

A somewhat parochial bunch, the Catalans. During the Spanish public holiday, shops stayed open. Catalan flags fly from the windows, and they say "molt bé" instead of "muy bien". Yet, as I once again point out to Anna, they still have Spanish passports.

Fran and I cruise along the coast from Barcalona to Blanes and take the bus further on to Lloret del Mar, which can only be described as a beautiful location with every touristic ruination imaginable, mainly at the hands of the English and the Germans. The main drag is gaudy with neon lights, discos and casinos. But Anna thankfully lives at the far end of town, with a view to the beach, and besides, it's October and there aren't too many tourists. We can't speak Spanish, but Catalan has so many similarities to Italian to make our passage trouble free.

We made it to the nearby towns of Girona, where the majority of our day was spent inside a restaurant, and Figueres, home to the Salvador Dalí museum. After a night (and morning) out with Anna, Sergi and Estel (the Copenhagen Catalans) - a night that involved a big dinner, amazing sangria, free fiery shots, a club with more free drinks, churros with chocolate for breakfast, and a lift home from Anna's crazy friend on his way to hunt rabbits - we woke up just in time for a late afternoon Paella in the neighbouring beach town of Tossa del Mar. And so we spent some lazy days...



...And of course there was Barcelona itself, Fran and I couldn't get enough of the lifestyle: in the mornings we would check out the sleek curves of Gaudi structures, the winding alleys of El Reval or El Barri Gòtic; whereas in the afternoon we'd meet our friends after uni and head for tapas, or a wine bar, or both, and then some...

And while London was getting colder, and darker, and wetter, Barcelona was full of sunshine, except for this exception: