The weeks are slipping away from me here. The trees are blossoming and blooming and slowly, but surely, the Barcelonans are beginning to emerge from their layers of black and grey down jackets, boots, scarves, mittens, and hats. Every once in a while I’ll spot a few toes twinkling in the sun if someone happens to be daring enough to wear sandals – but usually those people are the most obvious foreigners. I honestly don’t know what’s up with the very strict policy of black, brown, beige, and grey clothes that the Spaniards seem to adhere to. And honestly, they wear as much clothing, or more, as I did on a cold day back in Fairbanks… and we’re on the Mediterranean? With the thermometer regularly reaching a lovely 18 or 19 degrees (about 65 –
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