So, last weekend the Boyf and I went to Barcelona. It was a really lovely, relaxing trip and we had a great time wandering the streets.
It was during the wandering of streets on the Friday night after dinner and a jug of Sangria that we saw a naked man. Yes you read right. In the city centre, about 10pm or so a man wearing nothing but a rucksack (presumably holding his clothes?) crossed our path. This is not a bad thing, he was really quite buff I think. I say I think, because I didn’t clock him until he had passed so all I saw was the back of him – dammit!
The next day as we walked around battling crowds of tourists I turned to the Boyf and asked him – what do you think we’ll find if we head down this way? He replied ‘shall we find out’. We walked on and very quickly noticed a change in the passers by. Whereas before they had been the tourist crowd laden with shopping bags, now they were of a rather different type consisting mostly of women dressed in very tight and short clothing – yep – hookers. The men were also rather different being mainly of the seedy, vaguely dangerous looking sort. Taking the Boyfs
arm (lest he should appear to be a customer), I murmured ‘perhaps we should head back toward the Ramblas?’. The Boyf agreed it would be a good idea.
So it was an interesting trip and we both particularly liked the local bike hire system which I have written about here.
