I arrived in Barcelona on a Friday afternoon, tired and thrilled; I navigated the bus to the busy square where I was supposed to get off, and after only three or four false starts down one or another wrong avenue, finally found myself standing at the mouth of the narrow street upon which we’d rented our apartment—though I still wasn’t sure I’d found it, since in Barcelona the street signs (though plentiful) are placed in inconsistent locations high on the walls of buildings, where they may sit in the shadow of a carved Chinese dragon or become obscured by graffiti. I was frowning hard as I shrugged my bag back into a more comfortable position on my shoulder, eyes seeking out the word Boqueria on the stone edifices, when suddenly Avi appeared right in front of me, emerging from the crowd of babbling tourists and siesta-bound Spaniards with a grin on his face and his arms opening wide to enfold me in a hug. It was a wonderful beginning to a wonderful weekend.

It would take too long to tell you about everything we saw and touched and ate and drank and smelled and said and smiled over, but I can report that it is a fine, fine thing to drink a bottle of wine a day for three consecutive days. We had a Cabernet (which traveled with A. from Israel) on Friday, some Cava (which we learned upon its arrival at our table is Spanish champagne) on Saturday, and an unidentified bottle of white (which sat in a silver bucket by our table, pleasing Avi very much) on Sunday. There was also a good deal of beer and whiskey and grappa, but the wine was the thing. There is nothing more convivial than a bottle of wine shared with an old friend.

Barcelona’s only significant flaw, so far as I can tell, is that it attracts far too many tourists. If we could find a place in the city close to its heart and far enough away from the throngs, I would settle down there. No question about it. The city has charm coming out of its ears. Even its trees have personality.

And now there are but hours to wait until I am the one enfolding the lovely Sarah in a hug and lending her an extra sweater to keep her warm through these late winter days in Chicago. ;-) I am lucky beyond words.