Ancient Logic

So after a swift reboot of our trip to Barcelona, things improved. After basking in the AC for an hour or two, we set off for Montjuïc, the site of the National palace, the Joan Miro museum and the Olympic venues from the 1992 games. The walk up to the palace from the Espanola Metro stop is pure photo-bait. The cascading terraces matched with fountains creates the spectacle, the unexpected escalators leading almost all the way to the top was an unexpected treat. In addition to housing examples of Gothic and Medieval art from Spain, the National Palace also provided one of the better views of downtown Barcelona. The Joan Miro museum is nicely structured as an overview of his work but at that point in the day we starting to lose steam. After we left it was a short walk to a funicular leading down to Paral-lel and then a short tour of the famous shopping district La Rambla. The next day we found another funicular (this one closer to what I think people mentally picture...

Our arrival at the Orly Airport outside of Paris for our Transavia flight to Barcelona offered a foreshadowing of what we would encounter the next couple of days. Approaching the check-in desk we saw an impossibly long line at complete stand-still. Lauren went ahead and discovered that, yes, this was our  line. We settled in for a long wait, the line inching along, the time until our flight drawing nearer and nearer. Josh referred to this as the First Circle of Hell, but we weren't worried. We still had an hour and a half before our flight. Then we had an hour. Then 45 minutes. Eventually an attendant strolled past asking for passengers going to Barcelona. Identifying ourselves, the attendant escorted us to another shorter, but equally immobile line. "Second Circle of Hell," Josh observed. Another ten minutes passed and a second attendant strolled past asking again for passengers bound for Barcelona to wait in one final, very short line. Third Circle. Once past ...