Define "Express"

All righty then. So as I was saying, we picked up our car at Sants (Estació del Sants) and headed out of Barcelona mid-morning. I think we had arrived at the station before 9, so I guess I learned to allow lots of time for paperwork processing when picking up a car. In Spain.

I thought the French border was only about 18 miles north of Barcelona, but as I look at my map now and Google it, I'm seeing that it's a bit farther. I don't remember the trip to the border taking 2 hours. I'm pretty sure we took the expressway: the N11. Getting to the N11 was a tad hazardous, but we held our collective breath and off we went.

I was very surprised at the lack of security at the border. It seems there was a customs station but nobody stopped us. We just breezed right across. Our first stop was a rest area, where I was alarmed to discover the toilet seats were missing. That made for an interesting experience.

I'm sorry to drag this out. I really am. But I'm having a coffee machine crisis. Well, at least we're over the border, eh?

We interrupt this journey ...

This is what my brain feels like today: veggie lasagna with a side of Mediterranean vegetables. Blurred.

I'll continue the long and winding road tonight. If I have any brain matter left.

TGIF!

OK, a winding road ...

In case you were wondering, it's about 1,230 miles to Percé, Québec, and 1,393 miles to Sanibel Island. I'm not sure, but I think Percé may be where my dad and I went to see an old woodcarver and his wife in 1983. And where we ordered burgers with oignons in a restaurant where not a drop of English was spoken. A story for another day ...

As I was saying yesterday, J and I decided to spend a couple of days in France. We had no plan so we met with Josu, Nacho and César, the guides assigned to our group, to see how we could go about getting a car and to get some ideas of things to do.

Ugh. I really wish I had my dang journal. Where is that thing? Anyway, Nacho made arrangements for a car rental and sent us to the train station to pick it up. While we were waiting for the paperwork to be completed, I found a lovely Michelin map - in Catalan - of France. We got our little Citroën, and - oh my God - I never thought we'd make it out of Barcelona.

Yeah, you're probably thinking that too. Because I have to go get ready for work now.