"Pea-ches is going to the bea-ches!"

Breakfast was my favourite meal. At Center Ramblas, you get a Bizcocho, which is a sweet, sticky bread that you comes cut in half so that you can spread jam over the insides. There is also large bowls of cereal and refrigerated UHT milk and melba toast to eat, with cold butter and strawberry jam. You could choose your coffee. Cafe con leche, which was my personal favourite, was a strong coffee served with a healthy portion of milk, but Matt and Ross had cappucinos when they had coffee, I think. I watched as a girl pulled a 3kg jar of Nutella from her bag and spread it over everything possible.

This morning was shopping morning. We decided to head to RedMarket, which was a flea market with good bargains, according to my handbook. We had to go to Fontana, which is a stop close to La Sagrada Familia. It was a Sunday, so the traffic was slow and the people were friendly, saying '¡Buenas!' to us in greeting. We walked all along the Carrer de Casp to find this market, but we could not find it. All of a sudden, Matt noticed that there was a store called RedMarket. Inside, there was a sleek black bicycle displayed alongside jeans. The women's finds were not particularly notable - they were of the denim corset category - but the men's clothing was super cute. Ross found a jacket that he did not end up buying but looked really great in. Matt bought a quirky t-shirt with a picture of a brain and a label: Human Brain. I found a dress and an awesome gold cuff bracelet at a store that sold Indian-type wares.

We left and walked down the Paseig de Gracia. Our first stop was Intimissimi where I bought a second bra! Woot! It turns out that the bra I had meant to pack was still at Melissa's apartment when I got home. Go figure. Ross got sweet undies and we continued. Matt bought some shoes while Ross and I debated what the word for yellow was in Spanish. Amarillo, friends. We stopped for lunch at a little cafe that sold orxata. Unfortunately, they were sold out of orxata! I shrugged it off and got a Miller with foccaccia de verduras. We gnoshed on focaccia pizzas then took a picture at the arc de triomf made from recycled materials. We saw all the major designers on the Paseig, including Louis Vuitton, Valentino, Yves St. Laurent, Chanel, Bvlgari, Dior, etc, etc. I was tantalized and tortured by such haute couture! We stopped at the more shoppable places, including what looked to be equivalent to a Chapters. I bought a book in Catalan and Ross abandoned a book that would have helped us: Catalan for Dummies. We continued. The huge trend in Europe is yellow skinny pants. Actually, any skinny jeans, especially the really skinny, slightly short, zippered at the ankle ones. The ones that I just cannot wear! I bought Melissa a pink tank at Mango from the Paulo Coelho collection and a tank and necklace for me. We walked past El Corte Inglés, the major department store in Spain, and then from Plaça Catalunya to La Rambla and back to the hostel. It was still early in the day and very hot! We stopped to drop off our purchases and pick up our beach wares.

Off to the beaches! Down La Rambla we went and then veered to the left, where we walked down the promenade. The day was beautifully sunny and nice and breezy. It would be my first real day at a real beach! We continued and tried numerous times to find an entrance to the beaches. Our first attempt was stopped by the Spanish naval guard. Our second attempt was thwarted by fences, which Ross' manly shoulders simply moved aside, but we were blocked again by more fences that could not be moved. On the way to the actual beach, we did see the talking car, which promised a tour of Barcelona literally by your car, which would tell you about the sites you passed as you drove. When we refused, the man said, "Oh my god, lady!" He just couldn't believe I wouldn't go for the talking car.

Eventually, we did find the beach, where the famous boxes lay. Families were crammed into the tiny sand space between the shores of the Mediterranean and the boardwalk, which was crowded with people watching over the beachgoers. Little fountains were scattered so that you could wash the sand off of your body and feet. I sat, enjoying the sun, the sounds, the smells, and the sights of the beach. Ross had bought licorice at a supermarket and shared some with us. We lay, tanning, before the boys decided to swim to the man-made rock formation that stood to block the waves from crashing on the shore. I watched as whole children were swallowed by tides, their heads bobbing up at some indeterminate distance from shore. I squinted, trying to spot the boys and take pictures with my camera, but I failed. Epically.

As the boys were coming up onto shore, two bleach blondes walked in front of my view. They weren't particularly attractive women, with broad chests and rounded stomachs, but they were blondes nonetheless. A swarm of men came down from the sand behind me, from the sand in front of me, from the sides. They all came and wrapped their arms, their bodies, everything around these women, asking for pictures and kisses and names. The girls just giggled, happy to be the center of attention, and made futile attempts to bat off the attentions of them. They continued across the beach in a great swarm, all legs and arms and pelvises. The boys missed it completely.

The weather turned colder and windy. The sun was gone, so we decided it was time for gelato. Ross sleuthed out a place without stuff on their gelato and he was right! It was half the price of the place we had been going to for gelato. I had crema catalana flavour, since I didn't get a chance to have the real dessert while in Barcelona. We went back to the hostel to shower out the sand from our bodies, then ended up at FresCo, which had been advertised in our hostel.

FresCo was a restaurant that served mostly salads and some hot food. The main attraction was that it served all-you-can-eat buffets for only 9,95 euros on the weekdays. We descended on the salad bar, taking far too much for our stomachs, and ate for a while. There was the traditional "salad", but there was also pasta salad, gazpacho, hummus, fresh tomato wedges, fresh olives, bright pink watermelon soup - everything we wanted and didn't think we could get in Spain. We ate and laughed and tried to figure out the name of a song that was stuck in Ross' head. We talked about science for the first time on the trip!! Epic times, friends. Epic times at Fresco.

After putting his still-wet laundry in his compression sack (big mistake!), Matt packed away all of his items in preparation for leaving the next day. My laundry wasn't quite dry yet either, but I opted to pack it the next morning instead of that night. Ross had finished his laundry and we decided to go for a walk around town. It was late but the city was still alive. We had not yet had a chance to see the Universitat de Barcelona, which was of great interest to us young academics bitten by the travel bug. After walking around in circles for a bit, we came up on the shadiest circle you could ever find - with construction tarps put up around what appeared to have been a walk way. It was dark, the streets were not lit in this area, and only a woman with a broom was outside. She was super nice and offered to give us directions if we could understand some Spanish. She told us to walk up one street and continue for only five minutes and we would find it.

Her directions proved semi-accurate. Either the Barcelonians are super fast walkers, or us fat Canadians are super slow because it took a good 15-20 minutes for us to find the University. It was empty but well-lit compared to the areas we had been walking around previously. Ross went on a photo bliss and vowed to find out what he could take there. We walked around the main building, taking pictures, talking and joking. The night was still and beautiful. There were teenagers in a square under some palm trees doing God knows what. We walked past them, down an aisle of cafes, still bustling with people drinking coffee and other beverages. We walked all the way down the Paseig de Gracia (again) to Catalunya, and then down La Rambla. It took forever, but the walk was leisurely and indulgent. We were breathing in our last breaths of Barcelona night. Then to bed, for one last night in the city that truly never really sleeps.