Recovering

 I still have a hold-over cough from the Flu That Knocked Me Down. Or maybe it's allergies. Who can tell? The privet is blooming and that usually does a thing to me. Benadryl at night and Zyrtec in the morning means I can function with minimal noise.

Anyway, part of my morning routine is to spend a bit of time thanking God for whatever it is I am thankful at that moment. Today that means breathing, tasting food, and the myriad gifts that allow such luxuries as travel. 

Getting to see a whole different part of the world, where things are done a bit differently from here in the Deep South USA, only actually not that differently. People in Barcelona are unfailingly polite and friendly. Very Southern. There's a quiet "oh, disculpe!" ("excuse me!") if we bump into each other in a crowd. I was warned, pre-trip, about rampant pickpocketism there, but nary a pocket was picked. People smiled, and smiled back, asked where we were from, offered opinions about foods and politics, all very Southern, from my perspective.

Children stayed up a lot later than we were accustomed to. 11 pm, and there were young ones shouting and playing on the plaza below our room. When my kids were that age, bedtime was no later than 9pm. Ever. More for my sake than theirs, to be honest. 

I have a thing about cathedrals and the ornateness of them. I was raised in austere Presbyterian churches. Minimal ornamentation, all of them. When visiting a cathedral I was hit by the sheer...overwhelming....

Little nooks for particular saints, gold leaved, statues, each one with a small bank of candles in red glass jars on a rack for people to light in honor or whatever....not real sure. A small sign and box on each rack asking for 1 euro to light

Beautiful stained glass windows, 

 seats for families indicated by painted coats of arms, 

 all really lovely and interesting and through my head was the thought "how many homes could be built with the gold on this stuff?" but that wasn't the intent, I don't think. These were built for the Glory of God, and that's not a bad thing but still. My austere Presbyterian sensibilities had to set aside their prejudices and accept the beauty for what it was and that it didn't care what I thought about it all.

The whole city had these little pockets and pieces of beauty. Why should a lightpole be plain when it could be amazing? 

Why should the hinge on a door be plain when it could be beautiful?

Why should the wall of a building be ugly block when it could be plastered with an amazing image? What a wonderful sensibility! It was fun to turn the corner in an alley and find a dragon, or a small courtyard with a beautiful fountain.

This is a city that recognizes it's special, like an old woman who's lived an interesting life and recognizes she's beautiful.