Post by Ella
We are on our way back to the States. Reluctantly. Waiting in Atlanta for the final flight.
I usually try for a wrap up at the end of each trip.
Grubb describes the trip as a medieval to modern Gothic journey crowded with ghosts.
I describe it in bits. The French love of carousels, Senegalese food, walking empty castle lanes in the moonlight, graveyards galore, evidence of ancient Roman past juxtaposed with a crowded present, mansions on the coast of France, James Bond in Monaco, the open spirit of Barcelona, Gaudi, the immense stillness inside Sagrada Familia, erratic drivers on the tollways, roundabout rodeos, beautiful parks, flamingos in Carmague, Stravinsky’s fountain, pastry, great art and architecture, fun cocktails. Paris, never again. Barcelona, back in a flash.
The spell of travel was broken as we boarded our flight in Barcelona and there was a guy in a Maga hat. Back to the unthinkable.
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