Español, bitches!

As you will have seen from the pictures published in an earlier entry, Anneken was here for a few days to escape the cold wind, grey skies and 5€ coffee of Denmark. And while she had somewhat overestimated just how warm it would be here and ran around in a summer dress as if it were July, good times were had.

It's hard not to be a tourist at Parc Güell

We have a way of lashing out at one another at every possible opportunity, but this time we actually combined those forces to attack the ever-growing amount of tourists determined to make their stay in Barcelona as hands-on as possible, including the climbing of statues and general ubiquity. Let’s just say that it was a great break from the increasingly desperate attempts to ignore the troubles of my internship. Further activities included eating a lot of food, finding out that Anneken had just become and aunt, and going all cold turkey what the internet was concerned. A mysterious force has swallowed all access to the world wide web in my house, making this a challenging time to be alive in.

She left this morning and I just put the amazing fish-pattern sleeping bag back into my closet. Afterwards, I ate the leftovers of a rather epic potato salad that happened in our life last night, during the course of an international get-together at my apartment. I know you dying to find out just how that affects “the theory”- and guess what: There seems to be an even smaller amount of Spanish people here than I thought. Barcelona is effectively inhabited by Latin Americans, and so Anneken’s last night in the city was spent surrounded by very diverse southern food (The potato salad had its way of standing out) and the Spanish language, which she does not speak. Luckily, being trained “young European professionals”, we combined forces once more to tackle that problem: Turns out that teaching Spanish-speaking people the word “Kartoffelsalat” is an incredibly rewarding experience.

Her stay went by rather quickly- much to her despair she was not even able to buy the shoes she’d been fantasizing about for months. This morning, when she embarked on her journey back to Copenhagen, we pondered the jetsetter life and my upcoming trip to Denmark in April. “I’ll pretty much be seeing you tomorrow”, she said and got on the bus.