As we wandered around Tossa de Mar, we came across the famous landmarks easily enough, and the rocks that protrude from the sand below. We walked about and looked at things, as people do in new places, but we don't really enjoy that kind of tourism. We prefer to discover the unseen parts of a town. The back streets that people don't go to. The authentic experience. In a similar vain, I'm not usually content to snap the same pictures as everyone else and I'm not against getting into the action for a better look at things. I would say it's never done me any harm, but this was about to change.

I watched as the rough sea waves smashed into the slippery rocks and wondered what that would look like close up. Tentatively, I stepped out onto a small rock that poked out from the sand a few inches above one of the pools that had formed in a sandy trench. From there, a step up to the next, and the next, until I was atop the tallest rock I could climb, fifty feet farther into the breaking waves, and away from the limits that tourists typically respect. I wanted that wave shot.

Prepared to get completely soaked, I pulled out my GoPro and checked the waterproof housing. It was good to go. I rolled it and positioned it where the waves were hitting the rocks, in the hopes of getting a dramatic shot. While I was predictably soaked and cold, the actual drama came a few minutes later, when, after checking the footage on dry land, I decided to take a shot on the SLR. I turned it on and looked through the viewfinder. Everything set, I pressed the shutter and the camera switched off. Odd. Turn it off an back on. My years in help desk had taught me to do this first. But the same thing happened. And that was when I realized two things:
1. My camera was water resistant, not water proof.
2. Having flooded it with salt water, the last thing I should do is turn it on. Oops.

The Nikon was dead.

We arrived in Barcelona and spent an ungodly amount of time searching for somewhere to park. The city was so full of cars that the only free spaces were those too small for more cars. Chances of finding a space big enough for a van were looking pretty slim. At least two hours passed when we finally came across a space in front of the beach and grabbed it with an urgency previously reserved for fires and tidal waves. I slid into the space and pulled hard on the hand brake, just to make sure we were really in the space. And then we moved to the back for more tea, as is our duty as British people.

After the tea, we dealt more cards, as was still traditional, and then went out to sit on the beach. That lasted about 20 minutes before we couldn't kid ourselves anymore about how cold it was. I was disappointed. Spain, at least in my mind, was meant to be hot. Always. The next morning, I went to explore the city. My dad had decided to stay home and hold down the fort, since he hadn't thought it important to fix the broken door locks before leaving for foreign lands, and the back door was "secured" by tying a chain around the handle to stop it from being moved. Which kind of sounds not terribly unreasonable. But the chain in question here was the type that usually holds the rubber drain plug in your bathroom sink. No, I'm not kidding.

A bit of alone time didn't kill me, although the constant harassment by people trying to sell me beer on the streets almost did. The city is huge and I couldn't possibly see more than a tiny sliver of it in one day. I managed only to find the touristic parts, which I was trying to avoid, and a few back streets which were pretty nice and somewhat photogenic. Which would have been nice, had my camera survived the waves. GoPro photos aren't quite what I wanted when I spent a month's wages on a used camera, but that's all I had left.

Although the drama of this trip was pretty high, the loss of my SLR and the unrelenting cold had put quite a damper on it, but the time we spent getting there and back was the best and most memorable time. So I want to dedicate this story to my dad, as a reminder of just one of the many ridiculous times we've shared.

Cheers.

Parked on the beach front at Bogatell.