"La Merce" actually means Jessica Westlake

Back from Barcelona and missing it already!! We scheduled our trip for La Merce festival, which promised to be an eventful weekend. We flew in late Thursday night and caught a cab to our hostel. We were thrilled to find that Rick Steves treated us right with the suggestion of yet another perfectly situated hostel downtown, right off Las Ramblas. Exhausted from the travel and 2A.M. arrival, we decided to take a quick walk around town then hit the hay. After a sound sleep on our bunk beds we woke to spend the morning on the famous (again, topless) beaches. They weren't quite as beautiful as Valencia's (SORRRY Barca) but we still had a nice nap on the beach. Before long, we were awakened by Asian ladies offering a one-of-a-kind "Masaje Masaje" and Moroccan's trying to pawn off "Cervezas y Coke lite." Lee Ann, you wouldn't have been able to resist.

That afternoon we met up with the rest of our traveling entourage, Brian (Aka Dad) and Helpless Alex. They were staying with some of Brian's friends who are studying abroad in Barcelona for the semester. They led the way to the construction sight of Gaudi's La Sagrada Familia. We took more than a handful of pictures of the unfinished cathedral. The architecture was different than any we had seen before. Incorporating turtles and fruit into portrayals of Jesus and biblical scenes were some of Gaudi's wacky designs. Afterward, we went to a cafe for sangria and a chocolate chip cookie (incomparable to Becca's finest.)

Walking home through Las Ramblas, we caught a glimpse of some of Barcelona's finest athletes in one of the La Merce parades. After a little souvenir shopping, we made our way home through some smaller backroads to avoid the madness. (Sit down for this Andy and Uncle Jimmy.) We ran into none other than TH14...YES! Thierry HENRY!! For those of you who are less saavy in the European soccer world, Henry (pronounced "on ree") is one of the best athletes in the world. Thank God for our roomate, Megan, or we would have walked right past him. We walked sheepishly past him to confirm that we were not delusional, then argued over who would make the first move. Finally, Megan had the guts to approach. After affirming our belief, the rest of us spoke up and joined. Without a camera or paper, we resorted to having him sign Becca's tanktop. Uncle Jimmy, you will have to duke it out with our friend Andy because he has already claimed the paraphernalia. He asked for our numbers and offered us front row seats to his game the following day. Sike. We wish. We bid him farewell after a nice chat, which was good enough for us. Giggling and giddy, we headed home. In true college student fashion, we made Friday night's dinner and Saturday's lunch at the hostel for less than ONE EURO each...this is something to boast about! It was no gourmet meal, but the spaghetti dinner and a loaf's worth of PB&Js were suitable.

We followed suit of the rest of the festival goers and bought a 6 pack to enjoy while walking around to see La Merce's performers. We watched a concert and parade of oversized figures of Ferdinand and Isabella's court. We then headed to a nearby restaurant for sangria GRANDE and tapas. We were pretty stelth at smuggling in our own cervezas for a periodic secret sip...sooo college. Afterward, we met up with our Barcelonian hosts to finish the night with some late night hooka.

On Saturday we walked to Gaudi's Park Guell...we repeat...what a whack job. He now tops our list of favorite architects...surpassing all the other architects that we know (thats how you know he must be pretty dag on fantastic.) The afternoon turned into night as we roamed Las Ramblas taking in all of the La Merce festivities. The drummers on stilts, dancing groups in the streets, and marching bands made for a pretty bumpin atmosphere. Kit, check out the picture of us with the women dressed in fruit...I nearly got away with the necklace to send home to you for a birthday gift. Sorry to disapoint you, but I was caught by the surrounding crowd and was booed away.

That evening made for the most memorable experience of the trip. After making friends with some of our hostel mates (did you know Sinbad had a twin?... with whom we became very chummy) and consuming the remaining peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, we headed out to the fire run. You can not imagine what went down...because it would never be legal in los Estados Unidos. A fire run actually means just that...running from fire! Everyone else came prepared, fully clothed and covered (goggs recommended.) The characters from the previous nights parade walked through the streets spitting fire at the crowd, who was LOVING every second of the thrill. We, on the other hand, screamed until we lost our voices and laughed so hard we cried...or were those tears of fright? Check out the video because our words don't do it justice. After the fire run we met some Irishmen at a bar while we watched our boy, Henry, lead FC Barcelona to a victory over Sevilla.

With only two hours of sleep, we were awakened by our alarms to catch the bus to the airport. After what seemed like a lifetime of traveling, we finally arrived back at MC's crib. We slept for quite a bit of the day before skyping and watching The Notebook (IN ENGLISH!) via Megan's computer.

A long week of exams awaits us so wish us luck!

Disclaimer: You just got GOT! Our meeting with Henry was fabricated as a hoax on our friends (Sorrryyyy Andy). Ashton Kutcher taught us well.

Here's the link for the pics again with the videos added...
http://picasaweb.google.com/bethj917