I’ve been told so many great things about Barcelona that I was worried that my expectations were too high. But no, turns out I do love it as much as everyone said I would. The food here is absolutely mind blowing, and the architecture, local people and culture are beautiful.
It’s even hotter than London, which is hot. I sleep topless and drink litres of water. I start my day with a coffee and croissant from the cafe downstairs from our apartment. The waitress is a little fiery.
I wander the cobbled lanes, avoiding the main roads to steer clear of the tourists. It’s bad this time of year because all the locals leave for their holidays, and floods of vacationers take over. I suppose I am one of them, but I like to think I’m a little less boisterous and try to integrate myself into the culture as much as possible. I go to the beach to get a tan (another topless activity), and visit La Boqueria food markets to get my daily fruit intake.
My shyness doesn’t help me in the game of making new friends, but I have met three lovely Spanish girls who go out of their way to show me a good time, and make sure I eat the best food available. Sweet little Martha takes me to her favourite bakery where all the treats are handmade by nuns from monasteries around Spain. We sip tea, giggle and chat in Spanglish like we’ve known each other for years.
We finish our week with an evening jog down to the beach to semi-compensate for all our gluttony, which ultimately ends with a swim in the beautiful Mediterranean Sea. I decide I’m not ready to leave. But now it’s off to New York, my favourite city in the whole world…