Barcelona- Home of sangria, the Sagrada Familia, paeya, and...my panic attack. After a relaxing arrival night of drinking wine and sitting through 3 fountain shows in a row, we moved on to more-unrelaxing- things. Sideshow freaks along Las Ramblas were nerve racking- why do they have to be sooo still, and then so in your face? I commend them for spending hours doing their make-up and costumes, and for sitting still for what feels like hours (even to a spectator) however, I don't appreciate getting scared!!! OK, maybe I'm a bit jumpy...but to me, it's just not right. Between them and the never-ending cloud of smoke I was surrouded by (including in my hotel room) I thought I was about to die....literally....I couldn't breathe! Luckily, I had Bryan to cheer me up, taking my dare to eat a whole spoonful of pure pesto. Thanks, Bryan.
Enough complaining, Barcelona wasn't too bad at all! The flamenco dancing (no, not flamingo, u wise little undie you) was like nothing I had ever seen before. And shopping took on a whole new level of fun while getting to walk around carrying sangria and gelato (my one true love). The beach was gorgeous, and the food was tastey- speaking of-Alli, how was your polla?
For our non-Spanish speaking folk:
Polla= cock (and not the rooster kind)
Pollo= chicken
Neither of these are most likely spelled right.
I suppose this is why Alli stuck to ordering paeya for the rest of the time in Barcelona...
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