There are just too too many sweet pieces of manliness in these photos from Barcelona. After my first shoe purchase (a pair of Campers I call Lucia), I made my way through the tiny turny streets of old town and ended up about 6 feet from where I started. That spot was in front of some cathedral. After you've seen 9 cathedrals, you've seen them all - the roccocco, baroque and just plain gaudy (hee, hee - gaudi!) all melt into one another and it seems like you're looking at the same cathedral you saw yesterday and last week. Weeping Maria? check. Nekkid angel babies cowering in front of weird Inferno looking creatures? check. Gold nubby accents by the million over the nave? we got that.
But how many cathedrals can boast of having a firemen's bachelor auction right outside their front doors?! Only this one, mis amigos. While I sat on a bench next to another hot piece, I ate my 100th bocadillo of the trip and watched all these people dancing in circles. There was a small band, brass and strings, playing traditional Catalonian music while these people did their slow circle dancing, holding hands the whole time. Just like in the club, all the handbags were in the middle.
This one Japanese kid had been studying the moves for quite awhile before he joined a circle for the song Parc Guell. He looked more like he was doing a Bing Crosby-era style soft shoe, but - I know, I know - props for trying, young man. I just sat there smiling at the whole thing. There was warmness in my heart area. A gang of oldsters smiling and dancing - that's like watching a unicorn take a puppy dog for a walk to the lemonade and candy factory. Too good to be true.
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