Wow — where do I even begin about this bizarrely wonderful place? Manically vibrant, outrageously bohemian, gritty, grungy and exploding with summer action!
Too bad the weather fizzled on me a bit during the days I spent sightseeing (as opposed to catching up on the World Cup), but that didn’t dampen my spirits.
To get here was a cool eight hours on the bus, through places like Nimes and Montpellier. We crossed into Spain over the Pyrenees mountains, a natural border with France and stomping ground of proud Catalonians even before Julius Caesar came and brought civilisation to the Gauls and Iberians more than 2,000 years ago.