This is how we had imagined Spain — small stucco buildings, red clay roofs, narrow winding alleys, tiny art galleries and cafés — ah! Sitges is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. Plus, Gen and I have done a good job of being over-prepared travelers (well-worn maps as proof of this), so today we were more than willing to give ourselves brownie points for being spontaneous! Yay, us!
Also, today people thought we were Spanish. COOL.
After our Spanish language classes, we hopped on one of the R2 trains, still uncertain if we were in the right place at the right time, bearing backpacks on our bellies like we were pregnant with textbooks. Better safe than sorry — did you know that Barcelona is the number one city in the world for pickpocketers? As the train chugged down the Spanish coastline, Barcelona's towering skyscrapers faded into endless stretches of hillsides and ocean — well, sea, I guess... and a voice came on through the P.A. announcing we had arrived at Sitges.
Like I said, we were awestruck for a few moments. After wandering toward the beach, we contemplated staying in a hostel for the night (ooh! spontaneous!) but after ringing three doorbells (one of which we couldn't figure out how to operate, hmm... tourists, anyone?) and being rejected all three times, we felt sweaty, frustrated, and then encountered a small spiritual revelation, experiencing firsthand something like what Mary and Joseph must have felt (bulging backpack-bellies and all). Talk about resilience.
Clearly without the same stamina as Josef y María, we decided to feed our aching stomachs and splurge on the "Menú del Día" at Café Raymundo. After an enormous meal, we lived the Spanish dream: we walked a couple blocks to the beach, changed into swimsuits*, and slept for a few hours, waking up just before sunset. One of my top 5 siestas so far.
*Okay, so one thing we quickly learned about the beaches in Spain — it's quite normal for women to go topless (that's why all these gorgeous Spanish women don't have tan lines!). I hadn't worn my bathing suit under my clothes, so I had to change ... on the beach. I brought a skirt and looser shirt with me, so I managed to worm into my swimsuit, but I received quite a few weird looks; I'm sure they were all thinking, "Why doesn't she just take her clothes off?" Eh. I'm not sure if I'm going to be assimilating to the beach culture here anytime soon...
Okay. It's a little bit late.
Photos, here we go:
Steak and potatoes. Delicious. Sort of American, I thought, but maybe not. Also, they don't eat fries with ketchup here. We're weird, I guess.
One of many cathedrals along the coast.
Crema Catalan — a famous "postre" (dessert) in Catalonia, similar to Creme Brulee, but made with less sugar. ¡A mi me encanta!
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