Ola Barcelona!

Desperate measures have been taken to pretend that I'm still in sunny Spain and not sat back at my desk, crawling through emails. My dinner for the next week is going to be paella, tapas and more tapas. If this doesn't scream, take me back to Barcelona then I don't what does. {That's a lie, I do. But that would mean spontaneously booking flights and I don't think my boss or bank would appreciate that}. As you can probably tell, I had a fabulous time gallivanting round the city. Granted, I wasn't the most healthiest of human beings, and I wouldn't recommend flying with the flu, but a girl's gotta make the best out of a bad situation. 

After a horrendous trip to the airport, a delayed flight and a change of seats, we were off into the air. One thing I've learnt from flying with the Spanish is, once the plane has landed, they don't wait around. Fast forward past the grumpy-passport control man, impatient baggage collectors and friendly bus driver, we arrived in the center where everything happens. The next five minutes were spent turning our map around and spinning on the spot to work out what road we needed to be on, but luckily for me, Jay has a strong history in Scouts, so he's practically a human compass.

Our hostal was tucked away on a cute little street with a lift that made me feel like I was in The Lizzie McGuire movie, although the movie fails to show you the almighty thud and fear in your eyes as it rocks and drops a little when you get to your floor. Waking up the following morning to a fellow-stayee singing, badly, in Spanish. at the top of his lungs, at seven o'clock was not how we anticipated starting our day, but it got us moving, especially after spying the pastry shop that was just round the corner on the walk to the hostal the night before. 

With a pit-stop for suncream, very important, and a morning pastry, equally important we started our day as we meant the next few to go on, being t-total tourists. From hopping on and off an open-air bus, losing ourselves in Gaudi's work of art, wandering the streets and bumping into many people whilst looking up at the architecture and not in front of us, trying on an armful of clothes in Zara, to lying on the beach pretending to be asleep to avoid being convinced to buy a mojito or have a massage.  

Our evenings were spent devouring pans of paella and one too many tapas bowls, finished off with a healthy dollop of ice-cream; my pick of the day has to be Nutella. If you're looking for a place that is filled with sun, sea and s-ity life then I'd highly recommended Barcelona. There's so much to do, and so much we didn't do, so that gives us the perfect excuse to go back, right?

{Keep your eyes peeled for more Barcelona goodness coming your way}