Fun with the Bidet in Barcelona

Before last week I had never been to Spain. Now that I’ve been to Barcelona I cannot for the life of me understand why not.  You’ve simply got to love a county that

• Offers a café that serves tapas and wine every 10 feet (I am not exaggerating).
• Practically invented the afternoon nap.
• Puts wine on the breakfast menu. (I kid you not. Every morning, someone at our breakfast café ordered a bottle of wine. We did not. I do have some standards.)
• Designs everything to the hilt, down to the cobblestone streets which are laid out in patterns.
• Offers wine that is always, always good and cheap (though rarely can you buy anything but a bottle, so be ready for some drinking).
• Fills itself up with the cutest boys. Oh, the boys. Gorgeous, sweet and smiley—even to an LBB like me. (If I visited Spain when I was 20, I do believe I would have moved there for the guys, if nothing else.)
• And, did I mention the wine?

Germany is efficient. Beautiful, but efficient. Spain isn’t inefficient, but I could tell within hours of landing that it prized romance over getting things done quickly.

And, then, of course there was our hotel bathroom. We had a bidet. I must have one now.

(We also had the loudest toilet I have ever heard in my life. It put the airplane industrial sucking sounds to shame. I’m surprised our hotel toilet didn’t suck the towels, hanging near it, into its vortex every time.)

Anyway, many places in Europe have bidets, so it wasn’t my first encounter with one. In fact, my Aunt and her family lived in Switzerland for many years, and during one visit she valiantly tried to explain how it worked. But, it was beyond me at age 12 to understand why anyone would need to “hose off” (as I recall interpreting). But, our Spanish version had an adjustable knob that you could position. I’m just sayin’… Spain does everything better.

In Barcelona, I was up before Husband every morning. Surely a first. (And, no, it had nothing to do with the bidet.) I am sure it had something to do with the Spanish sunshine. Also, special.

Plus there was art to see! Wine to drink! Tapas to taste! And, shoes. Oh, the shoes that must be tried on. Sister and I bought Flamenco shoes at a shoe store dedicated to such shoes. Because, really, you never know when you’ll need a pair.

We spent two days wandering all over Barcelona. We wound our way through the Gothic area’s tiny, cavernous streets that twist and turn alongside ancient buildings and architecture. We spent about two hours in the Picasso museum, which boasts more than 1,500 pieces of that artist’s work. And, the park that Gaudi helped design is just cool. We spent a few hours there, taking pictures and drinking beer – just because we needed a break from the wine for a moment. (We stopped every few hours to refuel. It’s the Spanish thing to do.)

A quick cable ride one day, down to the beach, showed us just how clean (and clothing optional) a beach can be. See cute boy reference above for the relevance of this.

Their public transportation goes everywhere. Of course, our men wished to take public transportation (read:  hot subway system) everywhere, including at night for dinner. The last night, we put our flamenco-shoed feet down and demanded a cab to and from dinner. We weren’t grad students anymore. Time to honor the shoes and move uptown.

Add two great restaurants for dinner each night: Pla (in the Gothic district) and Flamant (in the university area), and I’m surprised I boarded the flight home.

All LBBs need a little romance in their life. Waiting until you are over 40 to get married makes us romantics deep in our hearts. So, I highly recommend Barcelona to inject a little flirting back into your life.  Just make sure you get a room with a bidet.