Hmm, where to start?

Okay, I generally look at only positive things and I could do that right now.  I could go on about the delicious croissants and still warm baguette we had for breakfast.  Or about the beautiful flowers and quaint plazas and twisting alleys.  I could even go on about my underused brain being able to retrieve the French hiding in its cobwebby recesses.  But a story is never really as good if there's no conflict, no wondering how it will all turn out.

So with that in mind, I'll tell you about a few of our difficulties.  By the time we got to Barcelona, everyone was pretty tired.  To get our bags, we had to walk forever. And then we had to take a bus to a different terminal to catch the train to downtown.  There was no baggage area on the bus (and we had 6 bags+carryon).  The walk to the train was interminable especially in 80+degrees and with a couple children who were sick of hauling bags (there are two bags that will never travel with me again).  As with the bus, no place for bags and it was standing room only.  The accordion player who serenaded us was a nice touch.  We had a very long wait in the station (with different traveling companions I would have ditched the bags and seen the city) and we just sat on the floor because there were no seats(!).  Getting on the train was perhaps the most difficult as we were significantly crankier and someone else's bags were blocking our way.  When a crazy old coot tried to push through our crowd who could not budge and the doors of the train shut and I was stuck in my seat, I thought we'd lost one of the kids.  Fortunately, the one we lost was Leigha and she wasn't really lost but had entered through the other car. Lessons have been learned.

I assure you I am not complaining.  This is just to provide you with a few jealousy-free moments, thinking of me here.  Another honest moment: while I am now used to the house - and it is exactly as in the pictures - initially it was a little off-putting.  The village is not quite as I expected.  I've not been in villages with the eyes of an adult.  Perhaps they were always this way.  It's rather poor.  Some graffiti, dog poop, ripped screens, old people in shifts sitting just inside the doors...

There is a bus to the beach which we will take tomorrow.  I could walk it but they compain too much.  I need to get food because we were a little too late today and it's Sunday.  Virtually everything is closed. We need to get into the swing of things and find a routine.

Tomorrow you can be jealous again when I describe the beach.