We´re in Barcelona for a couple days, staying at the ikea of hostels, Gat Xino. Seriously…the place is like crawling inside the most gorgeous mod showroom ever. And sleeping there!

It´s entertaining to be in a country where we have no clue on the language. Spanish is the only class I´ve ever failed (I got a 1.2 GPA in my Spanish 102 class at UW), and Andreas knows even less than me. Luckily Barcelona is filled with tourists and people are more than happy to speak English.

I´m having trouble not buying everything. The Spanish, in my mind, manufacture the best shoes in the world, and my consumer trigger finger is itchy as hell.

Oh, speaking of itchy, let´s take a look at the left hand side of my body….hmm, I see one 4-inch wide red itchy welt from a wasp sting on my calf; four bites up my thigh from some mysterious green insect that fell out of tree; and on my face…one two three mosquito bites from when Andreas and I slept out under the stars at the winery.

Why weren´t we in a tent? Oh, ah, because the tent we had borrowed was destroyed by a MASSIVE storm that blew in on Saturday night. Thunder! Lightning! Wind! We were all drunk on world class wine, and when the power went out, the Frenchies stayed up for an huor singing and hollaring in the dark. The storm blew our tent thirty feet and broke the poles. We, luckily, were not in the tent when this happened.

Storms seem to be following us…last night here in Spain, we were woken up by the loudest thunder I´ve ever heard. Even Andreas, Mr. Raised With Midwest Storms, was dumbstruck by the noise. WOW!

So, we hoof it around Barcelona for another day, then up to Madrid to stay with Javier.