After my coworkers left I was desperately tired and torn between wanting to go home, wanting to see more of the city, and wanting to go to bed. I went to bed. In fact, on Saturday morning, I awoke at 9 am so that the laundry could pick up some clothes, then put out the “do not disturb” sign and went back to sleep. At 2 pm, housekeeping called me to ask me when they could come clean my room. I decided to get up.

I took the metro out to the other side of town and just went walking in what I thought was a nice direction; I eventually came across the Parc de la Ciutadella, the “Central Park” of Barcelona. The park was filled with people young and old. People sat and ate on benches, gathered in circles in the grass, and in some cases, couples just laid the grass and made out in full public view. I am not a prude by any means, but I’m just not used to such public displays and found it intriguing. Lots of people were just laying out in the sun, enjoying the gorgeous weather as though it was the beach. One girl was sitting out in her bra and panties with her clothes in a heap beside her. I suppose she’d forgotten her bikini¹.

Eventually I got a call from the one coworker who lived in Barcelona; he invited me out to dinner along with his wife. I wandered my way back to the hotel just in time to freshen up and head out on the metro to the Gràcia district, where the young people hang out. We went out to a light dinner and talked about life and kids and the fact that I could totally move to Barcelona at any moment. We then went walking and talking around the neighborhood, and by this time I was unsurprised to see people lining up at 11:30pm to get a table for dinner at some places. I also discovered that the city would be pretty much shut down on Sunday, and regretted delaying a thorough trip through El Corte Ingles, the enormous department store next to my hotel. El Cortel Ingles is a great place to go if you need a suit, a whole smoked pig’s leg, an electric guitar, and a bathtub. Really. Same store.

I came back to a clean hotel room and fresh laundry, and fell directly into bed, where I lay unmoved until 10am.

Sunday, I found that the entire city had not in fact shut down, but most stores were closed–particularly the sort of stores you’d want to visit as a resident. All the tourist attractions were wide open; I took the funicular to Montjuic, and walked around for a while before getting on a tour bus. The tour bus was the sort in which you could get on and off repeatedly, so I took a last look at Las Ramblas, the Gothic Quarter, and around some of the Gaudi buildings. By dinner time I was pooped again, and I returned to my hotel room, thoroughly Barcelona’d out.

I ordered a $30 cheeseburger from room service, packed my things, and went to bed.

¹ If you ask for a “bikini” in a restaurant in Barcelona, you’ll get a grilled ham & cheese sandwich.