Sangria on La Rambla

You’ll forgive us if we forgot to ask for no straws.

The August sun beat onto us as we stepped out onto La Rambla from our hotel in Barcelona. A quirk of planning meant we would spend the night there on our way from a glorious week in Collioure, France, to the south of Spain. No one in their right mind plans to spend even an hour in Barcelona in August if they can avoid it. And they’re right–the plague of tourists reaches its peak (of course, we were tourists too, I understand the irony of it).

But there we were, and we had to make the best of it. After walking our dogs under the colonnades to stay out of the sun’s harshest rays, we pulled up to a sidewalk café in the middle of the boulevard and gave up. Dos sangrias, por favor. We watched the street statues beckon to students, and the young people all around flirting and playing and laughing with each other.

And we surrendered to the absurdity of it all.