After the upsets of last night, I don’t sleep very well despite the reassuring presence of Tom snoring. It’s occurred to me that I may have left my passport in the van, and I’m not sure if it’ll still be there when I get back.
After writing that last blog post, I end up chatting for ages to fellow travellers in the Wild Rover Irish pub. As you could tell from the name, it’s a haven for English speaking tourists who don’t want anything too… Spanish. One of them is a retired engineer from North Carolina called Phil, and the others are a father, mother and son from Maidenhead in Kent. Continue reading “The Big Trip, Day 6 (later) night time in Barcelona”