closed for vacation.

While my lapse in writing may seem strange to you hard-working Americans, I just want you to know: it's August, and Europe is on vacation. Small stores and restaurants are closed, the beaches are full of tourists, and the few that continue to work do so with groaning audible to the entire chilled-out population. Masquerading as a European, I went to the beach, braving the eight-hour bus from Madrid (in August, known as "the beachless ghost town) to Barcelona with Rebecca, former roommate, fellow fake European. Our trip began in near disaster, as we had decided to take an overnight bus to Barcelona, leaving at 1 am. As it was Rebecca's last night in Madrid, we had a nice, leisurely dinner starting at around 9:30...followed by a sprint through the metro system, back to my apartment to get the suitcase that I hadn't packed. This was then followed by more sprinting, barely making the last bus of the night. As we sat in our seats, sweating profusely, awaiting our departure and the beginning of eight fun-filled hours, we thought about how we probably wouldn't do this when we were older. My thought is, of course we wouldn't do this when we're older, because we would know better than to wait to the last minute to get to the bus station and really, to take a bus for eight hours overnight when you can fly for an hour and be done with it. Or to think that we would actually sleep on the bus, which made stops every two hours, complete with lights and announcements. However, coffee, along with some chocolate and churros, heals all wounds. One strange omelette thing later, we were off, leaping into sight-seeing Gaudí action, and then continuing our three-hour lunching tradition. While we definitely did not see everything Barcelona had to offer, we gave a valiant effort in eating as much as possible. I did my best to consume anything that remotely resembled a pastry, given Madrid's, uh, slightly lacking dessert scene. By dessert, I mean the piece of melon or apple they give you at the end of your meal and try to pass it off as a dessert. We sunbathed, drank in public, and meandered as though we had plenty of time. We did our best to embrace Spanish culture: sloowwww dowwwwnnnn. Done and done. After Rebecca left for the south of France, I pretty much laid on the beach for two days...just to make sure that we contributed enough chill. Isn't that what vacation is all about? Oh and don't expect anything too soon, I'm off to Italy, to visit a friend. Europe did get this vacation thing right.