(Sheila) In bed by 5 am last night, out of bed by 11 am to go pick up gear for our show tonight in St. Perpetua de Mogoda, 25 minutes outside of Barcelona. Actually, Dan and I snoozed and Paula and Patrick, against their better instincts, picked up the gear. They managed to reduce the mountain of gear that awaited them into a vanful and Dan and I hopped into Alberto's car. It'd probably be fair to say that the gear sucked this time. Although blessed with names like Fender and Marshall, they were all in poor condition and Patrick's high hat broke in the middle of the set. This prompted a spontaneous rendition of "Cool Clear Water" by the Sons of the Pioneers sung by Daniel that won the crowd over. Definitely the highlight of the show.

(Dan) Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday...all three without any shows; we are free to live the life of the turista in this highly visited town. My mission: behave politely, become Catalan, avoid the appearance of being the Ugly American. It is fun and educational too, of course, trying to see how people live here ("When in Rome..." as they say). Sheila is a great help, knowing the habits of Europeans as she does. Rattling off Spanish as we negotiate meals and deals.

The tall dumb friend stands by mutely as she rushes in to harass an unscrupulous clerk who short-changed me on a postage-stamp purchase. "Cinco Mille Pesetas! CINQO MILLE! Comprende? CINCO MILLE!" They were trying to pull a fast one on the turistas, but backed down quickly in the face of the angry blonde five-foot-five avenger.

(Sheila) Paula and Patrick visited the old graveyard in Montjuic (Paula narrowly skirted getting arrested for taking pictures of gravestones. They decided not to haul her in and took her film instead.) Dan and I made the rounds shopping for gig essentials like batteries and cables and strings and admiring the architecture. I went overboard and bought a red leather coat and became the first one in the band to buy a pair of shoes, more than once invoking our favorite phrase "the more you spend the more you save." Eventually we all buy a new pair of shoes, including Jon Luini who blesses us with his presence and brings along more contraband halfway through the tour - 100 more CDs for the distribution company.

We meet later in the day to rehearse some country covers in preparation for our gig at Nashville, a Texas-influenced country establishment that's expecting some line-dancing music. In the middle of it, our apartment owner, Begonia, a very sweet Spanish woman, rushes in and turns off all the overhead lights in favor of the small corner lamps. The ugly Americans are at it again, acting as if the electricity is free.

(Dan) Other plans? Paula will set out to secure a deal for distribution, Sheila's busy researching yoga; Patrick's sick but would like some Formula One merchandise to take home. Dan just wants to ogle the old stuff with occasional stops for beer or coffee.

Here's a typical experience in Barcelona: We're angling through the little streets searching for tonight's restaurant, and stop under a street lamp to check the map. What's that over this railing? A little square of land sunk 10 or 15 feet down, dotted with square stone objects over which a kitty cat leaps. Why heck, it's an old Roman graveyard. Those are sepulchres. Oh wow. Off to dinner.

Not much like a band do we seem, so early in the week with no gigs 'til Thursday. But have faith--we shall regroup and marshall the resources for a coming slew of shows. Arriba, Tiny! Have backline, will travel.