(Sheila) Buenos dias, Barcelona! Paula and I arrive in Barcelona, bags in hand including contraband (t-shirts and CDs), woozy from 15 hours of travel and no real sleep. We exit the customs area into the smoke-filled airport lobby. Welcome to Barcelona. Warm summer air, sunny skies and palm trees greet us. This is definitely a Mediterranean city.

I meet Alberto, our Spanish manager/booking agent/guardian angel/sage for the first time. I attempt my rudimentary Spanish, gleaned from commute cassettes.... he acts impressed. His first words are that Dan and Patrick missed their connecting flight from Frankfurt to Barcelona so we'll have to wait an hour and a half for them. Paula opts to deal with Avis immediately, which turns out to be a time-consuming affair as the first vehicle wasn't nearly big enough for us and our equipment. In fact, it would never have fit a 6'4" guitar player and a 6'2" drummer. We end up with a Chrysler Voyager, Alberto's dream car.

Patrick and Dan finally arrive later than expected. Dan offers up a piece of paper when I ask him where his guitar is, "This is my guitar," he tells me, looking despondent. He glumly considers it gone, a change from his usual optimistic outlook on life. I think jet lag, cramped seating for 11 hours and too much alcohol has worn him out and hold out hope that Lufthansa will find the missing instrument. We round up ourselves and all our baggage and follow Alberto into Barcelona in rush hour traffic, moving at about 5 mph in the largest vehicle on the road, besides delivery trucks. I think the 35-story ugly brick apt. buildings we pass on the way into the old city must be part of Franco's attempt to clean up parts of Barcelona after he finally crushed the anarchist/separatist movement here in Catelonia. I ask Alberto later what it was like when Franco died in 1975 and Alberto breaks into a grin and gladly explains that it was a huge spontaneous party in the streets with champagne for everyone. Dan says that for a long time on Saturday Night Live, Chevy Chase would announce during the news skit, "And this just in from Spain. Francisco Franco is still dead."

Begonia's: The usual pre-gig meeting place. (left) Dan inside (right) Sheila in front

We finally make it to the apartment where Dan and I will stay - we're in the Barri Gotic (Gothic Quarter) and Patrick and Paula are staying in El Raval, about 15 minutes walk from here. We have this enormous room that's part of an even larger apartment with marble tiles on the floor, 20 ft ceilings and french doors that swing open revealing a courtyard shared by four or five buildings. This is where we set up our little table to eat lunch of uno cuarto (a baguette) and Dutch Gouda cheese in the coming days.