In the 1970s my dad visited Barcelona. He’d been spending several days in Pomplona and needed to get out of the endless party so him and a friend went to the train station and ended up in Barcelona that night. They checked into a boarding house and got ready to head out when they asked their host for a key. She told them if they showed up after curfew all they had to do was take off their shoe and hit it on the doorstep a few times and the key woman would come to open the door.
My dad assumed he was mishearing the woman or his translation was faulty but the bar beckoned so he took off. Sure enough that night when they got home and banged their shoe a little old lady came up the block with a roll of keys.
She let them in, they tipped, and she left.
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My dad told me this story a few weeks ago. But coming here, and understanding more about Francoist Spain it’s wild to me that he visited then.
We’re currently in Madrid. After two weeks in Portugal (Lisbon and Porto) we flew to Spain (Barcelona and Madrid) and we’re just about ready to wrap up our ten days here. That means our three months in Europe is coming to a close (!!).
A few weeks ago we were in Sintra, Portugal getting jostled by crowds, sweaty, cranky (mostly me that day!) thirsty, and I took a video of H.
Me: What do you think about these crowds?
H: It’s doable. It’s not as bad as the Vatican, but you still feel like you’ve been put through the meat grinder.
And it IS a meat grinder. It’s so crowded, it’s hot as hell. I am exhausted. And yet what a time we’ve had.
Yesterday we had a lazy morning of laundry and thrift store perusing and I did a virtual session with my therapist (it was so nice, I highly recommend keeping up with your brain health while traveling!). After our siesta we went to the Reina Sofia Museum, scooped up some audio guides and looked at dozens of works by Picasso, Dali, and my new favorite painter—Ángeles Santos Torroella. After we were politely told to leave, we ate Pakistani food and sat in a nearby square and people watched as hundreds of folks celebrated some festival by dancing, eating, and enjoying themselves.
We’ll miss you Europe. You taught me a lot of history that I was naive too, and you also have taught me a lot about me. And what long term travel looks and feels like. More on that later.
Can you believe it’s been 5 months since we started this?
