We went to Barcelona because Beth had been there -- twice, actually -- on business, more than ten years ago. She had always said she wanted to take me there to see Gaudi's curvy-swervy architecture. Happily, by the time we got around to it we were able to take Holly and Spencer with us.

The trip was great. We really loved it. We were in Barcelona itself only two and a half days, and left feeling we could have easily consumed a week or more there. We did manage to pack a lot of sightseeing into our short stay, though. We saw Gaudi's famous apartment building, meant to look like waves with the balconies styled to resemble seaweed. His Segrada Familia, a massive cathedral to which he dedicated the last forty years of his life -- have you seen pictures? When I get my photos back I'll post one on famsite because I can't begin to describe it. Construction began in the late 1800s, and much work remains to be done.

We went all the way to the top via elevator (I was reminded I really don't like heights) and then descended via a tiny spiral staircase with no handrail to the right and nothing at all on the left. Spencer kept saying he was scared and I'll admit so was I. One false step and yeow. Look out below. We also visited the famous park Gaudi designed, featuring the famous mosaic dragon. Las Ramblas was another highlight. It is a wide pedestrian thoroughfare populated by merchants, restaurateurs, mimes, musicians, comedians -- you name it. You can even buy a parrot there. It runs about a half mile down to the waterfront. Narrow one-way streets run in each direction along each side. At one time Las Ramblas was a river, but was filled in long ago to create this walkway. Our hotel was right on it. We walked it four or five times, and it was never the same trip twice -- the performances changes continuously. It's part Greenwich Village, part Santa Monica, and mostly unlike anything I've seen before. I'll post pictures to help fill in the rest.

Across from Las Ramblas is the Old City, a maze of narrow, ancient streets.

It's home to shops, restaurants and some very strange looking people.

There's a certain element that's almost 100% tattooed and body pierced, leather-clad and topped with spiky, punky haircuts. They look fearsome, but we concluded they were probably harmless. Many of them had little dogs, which kind of humanized them or softened their presence. Then again, maybe they were eating the dogs.

We did manage to go to the big cathedral, hoping to see The Dead Fabregas.

No, not a punk band, but ancestors of Rod Lopez-Fabrega, who I'm told were major hombres in Barcelona. The church was in the midst of services, which made it impossible to tour and so we didn't find any Fabregas, dead or alive, unfortunately.

On the other side of Las Ramblas is the market. Booth after booth of fruit, seafood and meat -- each virtually indistinguishable from the next. We couldn't quite figure out how it was that so many nearly identical merchants competed effectively against each other. We didn't compare prices. Maybe that's it. Probably the most breathtaking feature of Barcelona is the 2000-year-old Roman city that rests below the Old City -- literally under its streets.

Remaining are just the foundations, but we had a remarkable glimpse of an entire village -- shops, the church, a winery, a laundry, a fish processing plant. A shop where fabrics were dyed -- you could still see a hint of blue dye in some of the stones. A system of see-through ramps was constructed so visitors can walk through the village and not miss a thing.

Next: Costa Brava and Carcassone Four of our days were spent in Costa Brava, near Lloret de Mer, at a beautiful hotel called Santa Marta. The beach there reminded us very much of Laguna Beach, with its majestic cliffs. When the winds kicked up, we even had a bit of California-style surf. The kids couldn't get enough of daring the waves to catch them. Holly was appalled by the European proclivity for nude sunbathing. Spencer didn't seem to notice and, me, I really didn't mind it much. Most of 'em should really keep their clothes on.

We took a boat ride to see the coast of Costa Brava, and to take us to Tossa, site of an ancient fort with real cannons (but no catapult to Spencer's disappointment). Costa Brava is fascinating because it changes so dramatically from one cove to the next. Some of the coves are natural beauties while others are as ugly as Miami Beach (maybe uglier).

Tossa is one of the pretty coves and we went swimming there (it was cold)

and then had a pizza (it was frozen) and pasta lunch at an outdoor café.

Then it was the boat ride back to Hotel Santa Marta.

Originally, we had only planned to be in Costa for two days. Our plan was to move on to Carcassone, just across the French border, and then make a loop through the mountains to return to Barcelona for our flight home.

Because we loved Costa so much, we cancelled our plans to go through the mountains, figuring we'd just swing back through Costa instead. After arriving in Carcassone, we decided to cut that short too. It wasn't that it was cold and rainy in France versus warm and sunny back in Spain. It wasn't that Beth was having too much fun speaking French -- she was. It wasn't that Carcassone wasn't great -- it was. We just realized it was only good for a day of touring, and hey, the beach was calling us back.

Carcassone is a Medieval walled city and our hotel was actually within the city walls. Other hotels, shops and restaurants have also been developed there. It was all done in good taste, but slightly Disneyesque. We quickly forgave that transgression because so much of the original city was remarkably well preserved. There was a real fortress within the walls, and man-oh-man did Spencer love it. You mean there were real knights here?

Hey, Dad -- can you show me where they threw the rocks?

For me, Carcassone may be most memorable for the car ride in. The only way to get to our hotel was to navigate through incredibly narrow, tourist-packed streets. So few cars go through that most people were oblivious to our presence. Most simply didn't sense hot steel on their tails. I mean, we were right behind them, just about bumping into their butts, and almost no one turned around to look. Only way out was the same way in. So I had this ultimate driving experience not once but twice.

On our way up to Carcassone we stopped in another Medieval city called Gerona -- which also has a Ramblas, though not nearly as happening as Barcelona's -- and also a wall, which we climbed. The local cathedral is 75 meters wide, making it one of the widest of its era. Maybe it's the widest, I can't remember. It was wide, okay? Gerona was once home to a substantial Jewish population, until they were driven out or forced to switch to Christianity. We walked the narrowest of streets in the Jewish Call and it didn't take much to imagine what the city might have been like all those years ago.

Next: Figueres and the rest On our way back from Carcassone, we stopped in Figueres, birthplace of Salvador Dali and also home of a museum he built. As I mentioned briefly in an earlier email, he is buried at the museum, under a big, black, 1950s Cadillac. It is the first thing you see after you enter the museum. I walked up to it and noticed a little slot accepting 100 pesata coins -- just like on the Thomas the Tank ride Spencer had straddled a few minutes earlier outside the museum. You know, you drop the coin, and Thomas rocks and rolls for a couple of minutes.

I wasn't sure if you were really supposed to put money in or if it was part of the sculpture. While I was thinking about that someone walked up and dropped in a coin. I didn't know what to expect but I didn't expect this --

it started to rain inside the car. A mannequin with a Beatles style haircut was in the driver's seat. Maybe it had something to do with Dali's friendship with John Lennon. It was interesting to see a similarity between Lennon's lithos and some of Dali's sketches. I don't know.

Holly and Spencer really enjoyed the museum, a pleasant surprise. Holly exercised the words "weird" and "disgusting" several times. Spencer (or "rubio" as we now call him) just giggled. Not bad for a place without knights or places from which to throw rocks. I think Dali (or El Salvador Dali as the kids call him) would have gotten a kick out of their reactions.

We sure could have used two more days (we never made it to the Picasso museum and didn't have any quality time in Eixample, where much of the Gaudi and Gaudi-inspired architecture is located). The only other real disappointment was the food. Except for the very last night - when we dined at a place where the locals, not the tourists, eat - we didn't have any great meals in Spain (and the food in France, incredibly, was downright vile). The paella -- seafood, not meat -- wasn't bad, it just wasn't good. Maybe I'm just not a fan. Holly ate lots of pasta and Spencer didn't eat much of anything. The sangria - loved it. The orange juice was the best I ever tasted. And they made these little square rolls. Soft and chewy. Wish we could get them here.

I used more Spanish than I expected to and we found the Spanish people to be friendly and helpful in oh so many ways. The Olympic Village? We drove through it. Would have spent more time there had we had it.

Actually, we had to get Spencer out of there before the locals turned him into a tourist attraction (on arrival, we weren't at the Barcelona airport more than five minutes before a total stranger touched his hair -- a senseless act that was repeated about a half dozen times during the trip).

Guess they don't see too many towheads in those parts.

Holly said she would cry when it was time to go home. Actually, we tried to make her make good on that promise, but she didn't. But all of us were sad to leave. If you ever have the chance, go there.

The End!