Last week, Dad left for London, leaving us in Spain to take care of our own business. We didn’t do much, so I’ll fast forward to when Dad came home on Thursday (early Friday morning).
We went to pick him up at the Barcelona airport, which happens to be about an hour and a half drive away on roads that are completely foreign to us. We are so far away from America, that siri is telling us where to go using the metric system. Anyways, about 75 minutes into our drive, Mom takes the wrong exit on the freeway (no hard feelings Mom). It wouldn’t have been a big deal if the ramp we needed onto the freeway wasn’t closed. Siri kept telling us to take the third exit on the roundabout, but there might as well not have been that third exit, because it was closed. We drove around for another half hour, just trying to get back onto the freeway.
Fast forwarding another couple days, to Saturday. On Saturday, we decided to take the hour drive up to a little town in France that nobody seems to know the name of. They had a sweet castle built while the Greeks were still the superpower. Obviously, it had been redone a few times, so we didn’t get to see the original. It was the first time any of is had ever been in the actual castle. Usually they only let us see a tiny portion of the castles, but this time, almost nothing was blocked off. It was built right on the edge of a bay in the Mediterranean, so, as you can imagine, the view was incredible.
After finishing up in the castle, we walked around the city and had some lunch. After walking around for another fifteen minutes or so, we found some Church thing on an island. It looked cool from where we were standing, so we tried to get over the bridge, but it was really windy and I was not dressed very appropriately for the weather (Europe 101: Bring a coat and long pants). I had some basketball shorts and a tee shirt with a thin running sweatshirt. The wind started blowing really hard, and we were right next to a beach, so the sand started hitting me in the face and in the legs. It hurt.