We arrived at Barcelona airport on Monday morning after 3 uneventful flights, and a mind-numbingly boring 5-hour layover in Detroit. Mark was waiting for us. Joyce and the kids were already deep in the throes of jetlag, but I was feeling pretty good, having slept for a few hours on the Detroit-to-Amsterdam leg.

Mark took us all to the apartment so we could drop off our luggage; it was small, but clean, and he had set everything up for us with bed linen, towels, and even some basic foodstuffs in the fridge. He gave me one of his spare cellphones, which proved its worth over and over during the course of the next 12 days. He also showed us how to start up the pilot light for the butane tank so we could have hot water, then he left us to shower and rest for a couple of hours.

Around 2pm, he returned and drove us down to the Port Vell an old pier that's been converted to a stretch of pricey restaurants. We had lunch at the Restaurant Emperador, which specializes in traditional Catalan seafood dishes. We had a nice paella with mussels, chicken, sausage, and shrimp. Joyce and I loved it, but the kids didn't, so they munched on bread and drank Coca Cola Light with lemon while we polished it off. My daughter Emma was very sleepy, and kept passing out during the meal. Afterward, we decided to eschew sightseeing, and went back to the apartment. Mark took us to the local supermercado so we could buy some stuff for breakfast, then left for his own pad. Despite our best attempts to stay awake, we all conked out by 6:30, and slept through until 8 the next morning.

After another shower and a bit of desayuno on Tuesday morning, we all felt pretty good, so I called Mark and he told me how to get to his place. We walked over to his apartment and had our first good look at the local neighborhood, a "new" suburb of Barcelona called L'Eixample (pronounced "La Shampla") that was built around the turn of the century to provide living space for the overcrowded medieval portion of Barcelona called Ciutat Vella. Unlike the medieval city, L'Eixample is laid out on a grid and all of the intersections have chamfered corners that provide a bit of extra parking in a city that's notoriously devoid of any. The buildings are relatively new, and feature handsome Modernisme touches. The district is also Barcelona's gay hotspot, and discotheques full of hardbodied young men abounded.

I must've misheard Mark's directions, because we walked right by his apartment. He was standing on the balcony yelling at us, but we didn't hear him, so he called me up on my cell and brought us back. His pad was quite a bit bigger than ours, and tastefully furnished with Japanese ceramics and African sculptures.

We walked over to a nearby bus stop and hopped a ride to the Plaça de Catalunya in the heart of downtown. It was very hot and humid. I was breaking a sweat without even moving. Tourists were everywhere, many in various states of undress. Big hairy, sweaty men with their shirts unbuttoned to reveal gigantic bellies were an especially unwelcome sight. So much for the Ugly American. Hello, Eurotrash!

We strolled down La Rambla for a bit, then branched off to visit the cathedral. The facade was covered in scaffolding, but the interior was open, so we ducked inside to escape the heat, but it was even more sweltering and stifling inside! We snuck a quick look at the crypt of Santa Eulàlia, then fought our way through the crowds to an outside courtyard next to the monk's cloister that was shady and much cooler. There was a beautiful fountain covered with a huge mossy growth. Thirteen ducks inhabit the fenced area that surrounds the fountain; they supposedly represent the age of Santa Eulàlia when she was martyred. We spent a few minutes there, then were chased out by guards who closed off the area for afternoon mass.

By this time, we were getting hungry, so we wandered down the narrow, twisty alleyways of the Barri Gòtic (Gothic Quarter) until we came to an open plaza next to the church of Santa Maria del Mar. We found a table in the shade next to a nice little restaurant called Caputxes that served nouveau cuisine. I ordered a spinach crepe filled with chicken and ricotta, along with a nice, cool cerveza. The kids had pizza.

As we ate, my daughter noticed that an old man was standing on a balcony above the plaza, staring directly at her. This would've been disturbing enough except for the fact that when he moved away from behind the towel that was hanging over the balcony railing, we all could see that he was nude! Emma, quietly and calmly asked me if I had some bleach that she could wash out her eyeballs with.

After lunch, we walked down some more twisty alleyways to the Museu D'Historia de la Ciutat, and checked out their collection of ancient Roman artifacts. Very interesting.

After another long, hot bus ride back to L'Eixample, Mark suggested that we drive up to a thermal spa in the mountains about an hour outside of town for a long, hot soak , then eat at a local restaurant. This sounded good to all of us, so at 6pm we tossed our swimsuits into Mark's Audi and headed out on the Autopista. After a long drive, and several stops at toll booths along the way to feed the hungry Catalan donkey, we arrived only to find that the spa was closed on Tuesdays! Oh well, at least we could still have a delicious dinner, right?...WRONG! It was closed for the entire month of August. In fact, we stopped at 2 more restaurants, and they were all closed! Unfortunately, this is the norm in Catalunya during the vacation season, so we didn't have much choice except to drive back. Starving and cranky, we finally arrived back in Mark's neighborhood around 10:00pm and had a nice dinner of various nouveau Chinese dishes at a place called Out of China.

On Wednesday, Mark had some errands to run, so we were on our own. Since our apartment was only a short distance away from the concentration of Modernisme architecture known as Manzana de Discordia (the "Apple", or "Block" of Discord), we decided to hoof over for a look. It was very hot and humid again, so we were all panting by the time we reached our destination. Our first stop was Casa Batlló. After paying the outrageously high admission fees, we grabbed audio handsets and trudged up the stairs through the marvelously organic rooms, making our way up to the roof. The house was packed with people and was very hot inside, there didn't seem to be any ventilation at all. Consequently, we rushed through and got back out on the street so we could buy some water before someone got heatstroke

Our next stop was La Pedrera. The line to get in was huge, so we decided to forgo the tour and visited Vinçon, the fancy-schmancy design store next door. The first thing that my son Nathan and I noticed was a shelf of these rude little bondage figurines, followed by some rather well-endowed teddy bears. Now it was Nate's turn to ask me for the eyeball bleach!

We had a sushi lunch with Mark at a nearby Japanese restaurant, then he suggested that we drive south to the seaside village of Sitges for a little sightseeing and then dinner. Mark lived in an apartment in Sitges for several months when he first moved to the Barcelona area. We stopped first at the beach near his old apartment and got out to walk around; it was even hotter and more humid than Barcelona, but it's a beautiful town and we were glad to be near the water. Much to our surprise, it had recently been turned into a clothing-optional beach inhabited by some rather randy oiled-up young men. I was beginning to wonder if there would be enough bleach for all of us. Emma, ever the practical, modest, and self-censoring little semi-adult simply turned around and marched back up the steps to the car, followed closely by the rest of us.

We headed into town, parked, and had a nice stroll through the whitewashed streets of the old village. It was beginning to get dark, so we got an outside table at the Restaurante de Santa Maria and had an excellent supper. I ordered the Merluza de Pescador (Hake with shrimp and mussels), and a lovely bottle of sparkling Cava wine. For dessert, I had a delicious chocolate torta.

We strolled a bit more in the cooler evening air, admired the brightly lit village church, laughed derisively at the lame drumming group practicing on the beach, and watched the surf break on the rocks, then drove back to Barcelona.

(To be continued)