Barcelona. I have many reasons for not having been to Spain -- everything from disdain of the heat to promised visits from friends in the US -- but the chance arose to third-wheel Craig and Helen to a 5-star hotel on the cheap so I jumped.



We ate tapas. We drank. First a flat cava, then several bottles of spicy rioja and even a flan-flavoured liqueur. We were bossed around by over made-up waitresses and waiters with booming master-of-the-universe voices. We walked. We cabbed. We climb the escalator-free hill to the Park Guell to see the fantastic spaces Gaudi created and then went to the Segada Familia to see the church he left unfinished -- over 100 years ago.



We did the marina, and the old part of town, and hunted down Mont Blanc with visions of cheap, affordable pens. Then that night, rather than clubbing, we sat in the bar celebrating our adventures.



Barcelona is much more sprawling and urban than I imagined it. It's also an intriguing combination of old and modern. But the men aren't anywhere near as stunning as promised.



I'd go back. Definitely.