Barcelona : Sunday Strolling

Sunday, when all shops are shut, the streets are brimming with the young and old. We walked to a second-hand market, Mercat de St Antoni, which was packed with people looking things that belonged to another. I was fascinated by the items on sale, particularly the large variety of books of all topics. At times like these, I wished I could understand another foreign language. Especially when I found a fabulous bread-making book…

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The city began to feel familiar as we strolled, taking unplanned and unexpected turns. For once, I enjoyed having no destination and no direction. To let someone else take the lead seemed so refreshing.

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“No woman no cry,” sang a group of buskers. They were the most successful performers on the street that afternoon. The end of La Ramblas marks Port Vell, where yachts dock and the others like us create imaginary stories about which ones belong to our father. I love so much to sit at the edge and hang my feet above the water.

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My final night ended with dinner at La Barceloneta, at Spanish hours. At 10:30pm, the restaurants are bustling and alive with diners, who like us, just took our seats.