Don't Cry For Me Even Though I Paid Money To See Picasso's Pottery.

My high school English teacher was the first woman in our district to wear pants to work.  This happened long before she taught us, but it was an impressive feat and we were dazzled by the tale of her corduroy hip huggers, until she slept with the bus driver while chaperoning students in Europe. 

The bus driver, according to the kids on the trip, excelled both at hairpin turns and back hair. 

Great tufty black bunches of hair jutted from his t-shirt at the neck and sleeves, as if he were stowing beneath its thin cotton a litter of ebony poodles.  

What happens in Europe with Sasquatch’s third cousin does NOT say in Europe, and as word spread, the collective EW!!! at our school grew exponentially.

My point? Simply this: The same people who inspire you can also disappoint you. 

Take myself, for instance.  I gave you good advice for visiting Rome and Florence, but when it came to Venice and Barcelona, I’ve been radio silent.   Why?  As I told Peter when he asked me where babies come from, The answer would leave you crying in a corner.  

Actually, it wouldn’t.  The summer just got away from me.  

And now it’s too late. 

I can’t even remember the name of our hotel in Venice, but I will say this: You should go.  

Venice and Barcelona are worth visiting, even if the former smells occasionally of open sewage, and the latter is politically charged. 

Seeing women in their bras marching down Las Ramblas to promote women’s rights, including the right to wear or not wear a shirt?

Check that off my bucket list. 

Elbowing past a line of striking union workers to get into the Picasso museum?  Check that off too, along with seeing Picasso’s pottery and realizing it kind of sucks. 

Somebody back then needed to tell him the truth.  Something like,

Pardon me, Picasso, but why not find a lovely little Greek wedding and smash some of that pottery of yours?  Just to celebrate . . . and prevent future generations who visit your museum from having to look at it. 

Yes, something like that.

Barcelona 

Parc Guell is Coo-ell

Parc Guell seems inspired by Dr. Suess

Me realizing I actually have a healthy fear of heights

Tibidabo, a cathedral set on a hill that is surrounded by an amusement park.  To get there you take a funicular.  Sort of felt like we were in a Wes Anderson film.

Burano.  A small island near Venice known for its lace work and colorful buildings.

They should have worked harder to keep me out of this museum.

Street performer we saw as we walked to Sagrada Familia

Sagrada Familia is dope.

Rich showing Hatch pride inside Sagrada Familia.

School children at play in Barcelona

San Marco square, Venice

The Bridge of Sighs.  From it, prisoners caught their last glimpse of Venice before walking into prison.

Doing a little freestyle rapping with the locals

Me, taking the water taxi down the grand canal in Venice, considering asking the lady to my left to look up some funny cat videos.