Here are my Confessions

I go shopping on the weekend afternoons. I am also listening to Mariah Carey right now, and enjoying it, and not ashamed. At all. And, I may have lost my glasses.

The weekend afternoon is probably the worst time in Barcelona to be out in the streets, and the worst time in Spain to be shopping. Somehow the whole world manages to stand in line at both Zara and H&M simultaneously. When I'm waiting in line, holding my nine-euro super-cute shirt that I JUST HAVE TO HAVE, sometimes, I feel like time has stopped. The spanish moms argue with the spanish salesgirls over sale prices and returns. Credit cards are rejected. The blood in my head starts to push against the constraints of my viens. I suppose that it's all the same back home, the business on the weekends and all, but the major difference for me in BCN is that the entire population of Whatcom County women between 18 and 49 could comfortably fit inside one Spanish department store. Especially Sfera. The women of Whatcom County could comfortably have a weiny roast and sing-a-long in Sfera. That shit's some 6 stories high. ONE department store. SIX stories.

But such loverly clothes... oh my. And the shoes. I think I'll miss the shoes the most. In my mind, I have bought around 10 pairs of shoes. I wear them IN MY DREAMS, because in reality I have bought I grand total of three pairs of shoes in the past year that I've been here. But spring's acumin, and that spells "s a n d l e s." Oh my yes.

I do other cultural meaningful things too, museums and walks on the beach and reading Don Quixote in the park. And there are lots, in fact, the majority, of weekend afternoons when I dont shop. There are days, most days, when I abhor the very thought of how time stands still in line with me.

But there are some pretty, pretty buildings here, and I feel a responsibility to keep up with the architecture. Plus, I want to make everyone jealous of how cute I am when I come home.

Bless me father, for I have shopped.