Hop and step, across the pond

It seems like months ago now, when Doobie, Delta and I first had the idea of going down to Barcelona over the summer. Doobie had wanted to go travelling. She wasn't quite sure where, but just knew she wanted to travel.
"Where should I go?" she'd asked me.
"Spain," I'd responded without hesitation.

And as she busied herself thinking of tickets and transport and reservations, I felt myself growing envious. I couldn't bear the thought of her being down in Barcelona, the city which had so stolen my heart, while I was stuck at home.

"Err... maybe I'll come down to Barcelona with you," I'd ventured.
"Let's go for your birthday!" Doobie rejoined.

And then we'd turned to Delta.
"Say... you fly down to Barcelona pretty often, don't you?"
"Uh-huh."
"Fancy coming down while we're there?"
"I can certainly try."
"Fancy being the pilot on our flight if we fly Delta?"
"I can certainly try."
And we'd beamed at each other with childish excitement.

And so it came to be that Doobie, Delta and I, not too much later, found ourselves heading across the li'l pond to lovely Espagna.

There were moments of mortification, like when all the passengers had boarded the plane, and Delta announced over the PA system, "I'd like to extend a special welcome to one of our passengers, Ficali McPipe, who will be celebrating her birthday in Barcelona...". I would have heard the rest if I hadn't been busy praying the seat would swallow me up.

There were moments of terror, as we took a cablecar ride, dangling precariously hundreds of feet over a ravine, to the mountain top monastery of Montserrat. Delta and I, both terrified of heights, were needless to say little consolation to each other.

And there were moments of agony, like when Doobie and I tried to navigate the city on foot, sin mapa, and ended up walking hours in dismally wrong directions.

But I struggle to remember those moments. What sticks in my head was the continuous warmth, laughter and relaxation. The beachside strolls. The champagne picnic in Parc Guell. Sitting out in the placas till four in the morning, and then going home to fall asleep over an episode of House. The delicious birthday meal ("best restaurant in Barcelona," Noori promised, and asked the waiter in the same breath, "can we get some extra dessert for free please? It's Ficali's birthday." And we did.).

Just like a dream.