A Tale of Two Bikinis

My run yesterday was hilarious.  For some reason, this one time, everyone wanted to run with me.  It started on Via Laietana, on my way down to the Barceloneta beach.  I turned a corner and, before I'd finished a block, had a new running companion.  This guy tore off his shirt, threw it to his friend, and ran with me - in jeans and smoking a cigarette - for nearly a mile.  While I was trying not to encourage him, it was hard no to laugh at his small talk.  And, hey, I have respect for anyone who can keep up with me for a mile after an all-nighter of partying while wearing jeans, especially since I sped up when he started to jog next to me.  But I was relieved when he said goodbye.  Then I made it down to the beach and received several (joking) requests to run with me from other late night partiers.  My usual response was, "I don't think you could" and resulted in shouted declarations of manhood and strength.  But hey, they didn't run a mile in my shoes, so they can't talk.

At work, I went over my presentation with Ignasi, who declared it finished and told me to take a couple of days of vacation.  I decided that the best way to spend my afternoon was to take everyone's advice and treat myself to a beach day.  But no ordinary beach day.  A Sitges beach day.  I found out that I could catch the train at Passeig de Gracia, but due to construction and his huge protest outside Barclay's,

 I decided to go to Sants Estacio, where everything is far less confusing.  While, as with my scuba diving trip, the Cercania (middle-distance train) was very late and the track kept switching, I finally boarded my train (after confirming twice that it was the right one) and settled in for the journey.  We passed fields of waving crops, beachy hamlets, and bleached coastal villages.  But then, as signaled by the mass exodus of bathing suit-clad youth, we made it to Sitges.

 Sitges is considered the gem of Spain's Gold Coast, the location for high-class sunbathers that can rival southern France and other top notch locales.  It has enough Moderniste architecture to add some sophistication to the starkly beautiful white houses with terra cotta tiled roofs.

 So walking down the little, winding streets is charming and, with the whistling breezes and perfect blue sky, very relaxing.

The Romantic Hotel, for all you starry-eyed couples out there

Beautiful tiled spire

 The beach is likewise glorious, and puts the Barcelona dirt-sand to shame.  The water is clear, with gentle waves but a strong pull.  And everyone was enjoying it.

 I valiantly sunbathed for 23 minutes, promptly got terribly burned (despite sunscreen), and spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the coastline and reading in the shade.  Note: there are a LOT of statues by the coast

 Oh, and if you didn't think this town could be more adorable, all of their street signs are hand painted ceramic like this:

 For the alcoholics/most of my fellow college students, a pilgrimage to this building, which I had forgotten was in Sitges until I passed a large photo-happy crowd on my wander, is a must.

I've heard they have a statue somewhere, too, but it wasn't worth the effort to find it.

 Just before returning home, I stopped at this bar for another adventure.

 The challenge? To eat a bikini.  Not the bathing suit, but the sandwich.  You see, here in Catalunya, a bikini is a triangular sandwich, usually of cheese and sweet ham.  I got my bikini to go.  When I opened it on the train, I was disappointed that it wasn't cut into triangles, but it hit the spot.

Spotted: Naaman's last day.  Naaman leaves this morning after putting up for me for two whole months.  I just wanted to take this moment to give her a shout out and tell her I'll miss her!  And now, I'm going solo.  Wish me luck!