The six day festival of decadence that precedes Lent seems to me fitting for a region with few practicing Catholics but a rich religious history. Food, alchool, and dancing are kings in anticipation of 40 days of restriction. On Friday my friends and I went to Sitges, a beach town 40 minutes from the city center famous for its Carnaval revelry. Saturday, Sunday, and Tuesday--especially Tuesday--are the most notorious days in Sitges, but even on Friday the streets were full until the first train went back to Barca at 4:48 a.m. (I am sure of this time because by about 4 a.m. no amount of dancing would keep my sockless feet from freezing in th 7 degree C weather. Yes, I occasionally lack street smarts. And no, a longer 40 minutes I have not passed in a while.)
This is what happens when you instigate feather mask headbutt wars. (The mask had feathers all across the top when I purchased it.)Two weeks prior, my former roommate Alyssa, who is studying in Rome, visited me. She is just as amazing as I remember. I spent a lot of time with her friend, Brittany, and in total we were the only triplet of curly blondes I've seen in Barcelona. In hosting her and, later, Brett, I have learned a lot of interesting facts about Barcelona (read: Gaudi). Too bad forgetting is inevitable.
No one is allowed to request postcards now. Alyssa has it covered. (On the roof of Casa Batllo.)Also, I went to Madrid last weekend. Now, I've experienced some strange weather patterns in Oregon--24 degree temperature shifts in 24 hours, for example, or heavy snow immediately followed by torrential rainfall. But nothing beats Madrid's weather last weekend. I toured the city comfortably in a long sleeved T-shirt less than one week after snow had covered the streets. It's pretty sweet when bipolarity works in your favor.
I really enjoyed Madrid. I saw Guernica in person, a dream I've had since high school. Unfortunately, this naive dream also involved me standing solitary in front of the artwork, when the reality of the Museo de Reina Sofia on a Sunday afternoon situated me among a pack of about 50 onlookers.
What a hard life, no?
