There are parrots here. We are no longer in Paris. Barcelona is now our home.
Howie and Tania came to Paris on Friday. Hence, my recollection of Friday night is a bit of a blur. Our night began with 4 bottles of wine. I remember debating the limits of love with a fellow traveller named Chris. We ate Mexican food. We stumbled home, happy and full.
During our stay in Paris, we lived in 4 separate locations, in 3 different parts of town. By the time we left, my rusty French was starting to flow.
We had been warned that Parisians were rude. Not so. Perhaps they appreciated my rusty French?
Now, in Spain, Shannon and I find ourselves in the same boat: We do not speak the language. Actually, I should say languages. Since, Spanish, Catalan, Basque are all spoken in various parts of this country.
Last nights dinner was a true hostel experience. Our food provided by the kitchen's free shelf. All markets being closed on Sunday, past noon.