Barcelona

The fine folks of Spain drink a lot. Europeans drink a lot. I think I was European in a past life. We took a girls trip to Barcelona in March, or maybe it was April. Hell, it may have been last weekend for all I know. My memory is going. I seriously am convinced I am going to have Alzheimer's at, like, 33.

We arrived around noon on Friday and this is when the drinking began. Sangrias. They're delicious. I've only had them a time or two before but the one time I had them I puked, passed out, and don't remember too much. I do remember my girlfriend getting me home that night and tucking me in bed. While she was getting me in bed I stripped my clothes off and told her how much I loved her for taking such good care of me. I'm a loving drunk. 

Ever since that night I hadn't touched sangria but I decided to try it again because I'm certain it wasn't the sangria that did me in, it was the loads of liquor that followed. And the food. I don't eat when I drink or I feel sick but my girlfriend practically force fed me. I digress. Sangrias happened in Barcelona.

And that was the beginning of the end. 

Seriously, by nightfall I was in a club with Mario and Luigi taking photos and dancing. Please note that I do not know these two. I am just friendly and could talk to a brick wall if it came down to it. And I'm even more friendly when drinking. Plus it was Carnival and when I finally figured that out I inquired what exactly it meant. 

An hour after I stumbled into my hotel room my girlfriend I shared a room with was waking me up to go to our cooking class we signed up for. Why the fuck do clubs in Barcelona stay open until 5? So I went, donning a pair of sunglasses to hide my bloodshot eyes. We had to go shopping for the food and when we got back to the classroom these bitches opened multiple bottles of wine. It wasn't even 9am. 

They let me operate a blow torch thingy, handle large knives, and be within inches of an open flame. I'm not sure what they were thinking. 

Later that afternoon a few of us wondered the streets of Barcelona. 

That night was no different then the one before. It was dinner (tapas) and sangrias. Oh, and we watched some awesome Flamenco dancers while at dinner. Then it was off for more shots and shaking it 'til 5am.

Our hotel was right down the street from the club and as we walked back we came across a sidewalk which mesmerized us. It was all lit up so of course we had to take a photo.

But we were like uh, that's not what we see, what's going on.  Oh yeah, the flash is on. Let's turn it off and try again...

Better.

 The next day was calmer. We were preparing to enter reality again soon. There was more sightseeing.

Since living in Europe, I have found something in each country we have visited and add it to a wall in our front hall. While in Spain I found this small print at the Picasso Museum. I loved it and knew it'd be just the think to add to our wall.

Barcelona was a wild good time. It was nice to spend a weekend with the girls and let the guys take care of the kids and house. A few days after returning from the trip I saw this posted on Facebook. It sums up Barcelona nicely.