Transmission Spain: More mountains, Barcelona, and Home

After the Madrid camera heist we split for the mountains again. The sun had come out, the snow had settled, and it was time to get something done. We set up camp in the town of Jaca and explored new areas. It was all blazing alpine sun and windlips for days.  It sounds nice but even that got old after a while. Whiplash, dehydration, tapas overload, and travel-induced short tempers. The ten-day mark had come and gone. Time to start thinking about home.

(Due to lack of digital camera, I found this image of the spot we were at on the interwebs. Stunning, no?)

So yeah, we packed the cars and pointed them towards Barcelona, where once arrived we blew off steam with a humungous drunk night of sangria, wine, whiskey, et cetera, et cetera. There was singing, there was tap-dancing (I think), there was wandering through the old city's cobblestone labyrinth clutching street beers bought for a Euro a piece from dark men with uni-brows. Creatures of the night would fall into step with us, whispering secretive offers in our ear … “Hashish, lady, you like to smoke marijuana?” and so on and so forth. We laughed, we cried, we got separated, but everyone made it back to their respective hotel rooms in one piece by morning.

Barcelona bathed in the morning sunshine upon my arrival two weeks ago.

And just when I started to worry about traveling all the way to Spain without once pulling out my skateboard, I found myself outside the famous Barcelona Museum of Contemporary Art with four wheels in hand. Marble ledges, a big mellow bank, stair cases, a massive open flat-top, and several dozen skateboarders from all over the world—everyone peacefully doing their thing as students walked by clutching college texts and pigeons fluttered around looking for scraps. So awesome.

Anyway, I’m on the plane now and dreaming about clean sheets and Cougs. Time to sleep …