España, numero cinqo!

After breakfast Tuesday morning, we were walking to a convent when we passed the Palau Guëll and decided to see the inside, particularly because it was free.  Not worth it!  The line moved fast enough, but they limit how many people can be inside.  And most of the inside is under heavy restoration, so all you can see at the moment is the cellar, which doesn't really have anything to see.  The place was designed by Gaudí, too, so that was a shame.  If you squint, you can see the funky, decorative chimneys on the roof, though.

We next headed to the Picasso Museum, where a protest by hotel workers on the way was temporarily distracting.  We also stopped in more souvenir shops--Jen wanted something for her stepdad, who is of partial Spanish/Basque descent; Nadine wanted a Spanish-language Wizard of Oz; and I was hoping for a Gaudí-style goblet that my family could use as a Kiddush cup.  We all met with success so quickly it was almost shocking!  Luckily, the shop that sold both me and Nadine Kiddish cups bubble-wrapped them well, and the package fit neatly into my purse.

The line at the Picasso Museum was a bit daunting, but it ended up not proving too terrible.  I think most of his really famous stuff is scattered--most of his stuff that I'd heard of, at least, I saw at MoMA in New York City and the Hermitage in St. Petersburg and elsewhere.  The museum was neat, though, because it has a lot of his older work, most notably before the cubist style set in.  There was also a whole room of studies for his eventual reinterpretation of the Meninas, which, having seen the original just days before, was damn cool for me.  

We found more pintxos for a late lunch and high-tailed to another Gaudí building that a friend from home had recommended I see.  We got a bit turned around walking there from the Metro stop, unfortunately, but because of those of us with planes to catch, we wouldn't have had time to wait to go inside anyway.  The outside was gorgeous, though, and a quick swing through the gift shop gave us a sense of what we'd missed.  Thank goodness for postcards!  Back at the hostel, I grabbed my backpack, rearranged a few things, and hugged everyone goodbye.  I made my plane from Barcelona to Copenhagen without incident, fortunately, although I finished my last book along the way, leaving me with nothing to read on the overseas flight the next day.