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Rambling Tour Notes - Tiny goes to Spain page 12/12
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Sheila's entries appear in purple and Dan's entries appear in blue.
Sound clips are from a digital camera, so adjust your expectations accordingly.

Saturday, October 14

(Sheila) Our last gig is in Camprodon, the small town 10 kilometers from the French border in the Spanish Pyrenees. It's such a relief to get out of the big city into the countryside, we're all happy. We carpool in Jon's rental car with Birgit, the dynamite owner of Paula and Patrick's flat in El Raval, and Dan and Patrick haul the gear up in the van. 3 hours behind us are Paula, Alberto and Pat McDonald, just in from 32 hours of travelling via bus in Wisconsin to plane in Chicago, to another plane in Amsterdam and final arrival in Barcelona.

We set up in the great hall of the Hotel Camprodon, this beautiful historic grand hotel with marble tiles and a sweeping staircase leading up to the rooms. Jon and I are hoping these are our digs for the evening (sadly it is not). The hall we're playing in is a ballroom from ages ago and it's way too damn boomie for our set up. It takes us hours to find a reasonable sound so we can actually hear vocals and not be playing loud enough to make everyone deaf. It's really a bad scene for sound.

Dinner before the show at Camprodon

We finally give up and head out for pre-show dinner, our very last evening together. It's a weird feeling, a combination of the anticipation of being free for a few days and the disappointment that our big tour in Spain is finished. Patrick decides, (he who as been easily nominated as the fussiest dresser but obviously the more adventurous eater of the band) to eat rabbit for dinner. He eats it with aplomb, comparing what half of the rabbit he got and what half Alberto got. He says it tastes like chicken. I stare gingerly at my own tortilla de champinones to make sure my vegetarian meal doesn't have meat in it. Vegetarian does not mean meatless in Spain. Last time I asked for something "sin carne" I got a ham-filled meal. Jamon is not carne, obviously.


We pull off our show despite the boomie sound that decreases somewhat with the crowded house. Patrick plays rockin' drums on Fancy and makes it so easy for Dan and I to float on top. It's awesome.

As it turns out, Jon and I are the only ones who stay in Camprodon. At 3 am Patrick and Dan and Birgit, our trusty, energetic and extraordinarily helpful guide, gallantly head back to Barcelona to park the van filled with gear in the guarded parking garage and get themselves to the airport for their excruciating early am flight. Paula, getting sicker by the minute, heads back separately with Alberto and Pat, and Jon and I get walked over to a hotel where they've arranged a room for us. We bring a bottle of wine with us to celebrate the end of the tour but are so exhausted that we have one glass each and drop like dead logs into our beds. The next day we get up to begin our own adventure in the countryside and on the Costa Brava coast for a few much-needed days of rest and relaxation.

Adios Espana. Queremos volver pronto!

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