Scotland and Catalonia have peacefully sought both greater autonomy and full participation (145Cong.Rec.E975)

From Scotland, TJ and his family headed off to Ireland while I headed back to the rat race. The next weekend, though, we reunited in Spain; they had already been to Madrid before we met up in Barcelona. Traveling is basically an excuse to eat out every meal, and I was a bit behind. I arrived on a Friday night after work, so all we had time for then was a short tapas-bar crawl near our hotel. The next morning, though, we headed straight to La Boqueria market. We beat the arrival of the cruise-ship sojourners, so we were able to see vendors get ready for the rush: slicing jamon (top) and arranging the fresh catch of the day (bottom left). We even managed to find seats at the bar for a typical breakfast: tortilla with patatas (bottom right).

We had to be patient, and a tad aggressive, to get a table Bar Jai-Ca, a petite and packed neighborhood institution known for its seafood (left). We felt very lucky to have stumbled upon it after our first choice of restaurant in La Barceloneta -- Can Maño, a fish tavern -- was closed for the day. It was worth the wait to fill our table and our tummies with a variety of delicious dishes, including some the tastiest grilled octopus I've ever eaten (right).

It felt nice to mix with those "in the know" without being assaulted by hipness, which was how I felt when TJ and swung by Fàbrica Moritz Barcelona in the stylish neighborhood of Sant Antoni. I really enjoyed wandering the brewery itself, seeing how the brand has been revitalized with new equipment, like fermenting vats, in the company's historic factory (left). But the sleekness of the restaurant was overwhelming (right), especially considering the styles of beer on offer weren't that sophisticated.

 

We tracked down another historic workshop for breakfast: Pastisseria Brunells, one of the oldest family-run bakeries in the city (top left). You can order coffee from the bar then choose from a variety of baked treats, both savory and sweet, on the buffet (top right). If you want, you can pick a table with a view of its on-site operations, including a wood-fired oven (bottom). The establishment also sells chocolate it makes, although not on site, at the store next door.

I dragged our crew to another stop for coffee amid the cramped and crooked streets of the Gothic Quarter (left). 4 Gats was once a creativity-inspiring haven for poet Ruben Dario, artist Pablo Picasso, and architect Antoni Gaudi (more on the latter two in an upcoming post). Now it's mainly a capitalism-inducing cafe for tourists seeking a rest from the nearby cluster of tourist attractions (right).

  

One of those attractions is the city's cathedral, where a band was playing on its steps when we passed by. Among the members of the "cobla" were a flabiolist and a shawmist (left). Some tourists but mostly locals were using the cathedral square as a dance stage for the sardana, a traditional Catalan dance performed by groups in circles (right).

Later on, as we were strolling through the L'Eixample district, we came across another group of cavorting folk dancers (top). Their beer stand was one of many tents filling blocks of a boulevard for a neighborhood festival (bottom left). At various intersections, stages were set up for performances, and sadly, we were just a little too late to catch the gigantes in action (bottom right). 

Spontaneous jigs and enormous puppets aren't the only pastimes we witnessed in the city. Some locals exercising their petanca skills were immune to gaping onlookers in one park (left). On the other hand, and on a balcony, a Marilyn Monroe impersonator was enticing pedestrians along the main drag Las Ramblas to explore the Erotic Museum (right).

 

On such a sunny day, we skipped that kind of indoor culture and headed with what seemed like the rest of the city to the coast, specifically Llevant Beach (left). TJ headed in for a dip while the rest of hung out on the breakwater averting our eyes from topless sunbathers. I wished I could settle in with a book (right), but alas, Sunday evening was closing in, so I had to pull myself away from the sand for my flight back across the English Channel.

Keeping a backup supply of shocks for the Highland Fling on hand (13-1226-Lael v. Six Flags Theme Parks Inc.)

After the wet, obscuring weather in Edinburgh, I didn't have high hopes for clear views in the Highlands, but when we pulled into Inverness, there were blue skies over Inverness Castle (top left). We took advantage of the nice atmosphere to do a short spin through the city as part of our pit stop to pick up provisions. During our walk we spied the two spires of the Free North Church of Scotland and Old High Church on the east riverbank (top right). Unfortuately, we stumbled on the Victorian Market after closing time, when most shops were shuttered (bottom left), but we -- well, Sage at least -- received a warm welcome at the Old Market Inn, the pub next door (bottom right). 

Dinner ingredients in hand, we headed north on the River Ness for a while before we turned and followed the Beauly Firth west to our self-catering Daviot Lodge near the town of Beauly. Sage settled in immediately, taking a rest amid the many empty cabins (left) while TJ finished off dinner in our outdoor oven. During Sage's walk the next morning, fair skies held favor for the day ahead (right).

 

We set a route to Wester Ross, recommended by Davy the Ghost as the most beautiful region in northern Scotland. Although we didn't get to see the entire area, it seemed to be a strong contender, at least based on our initial view across Loch Broom (top). The town of Ullapool rests on the shore of the lake (bottom left), and on the day we visited, the Ullapool Coastal Rowing Club was using the waters to its advantage for its annual regatta (bottom right).

We didn't have time to watch all the heats, as we were trying to get through a hefty chunk of the North Coast 500 Trail. Despite our ambitious plan, we decided Corrieshalloch Gorge National Natural Reserve was worth the short hike from the parking lot (left). While we were experiencing a bit of vertigo on the suspension bridge over the waterfall (right), some water started to fall from the sky. With the steel surface a bit slippery, we carefully retraced our steps back to the car and continued on our journey.

By the time we reached Gruinard Bay, we were looking back at the source of the precipitation from a sunny precipice (left). The weather held for a late-lunch picnic in the burial ground of a chapel in Laide. Despite being surrounded by gravestones, the setting didn't seem so morbid with the sound of lapping waves and the scent of blooming wildflowers (right).

The fauna spotted during our drive was just as stunning as the flora. During a water break, we spied some Highland cattle in an adjacent pen (left). As the sun started to set behind the hills, the area's native red deer emerged for their own water break (right).

Davy the Ghost swore that the most beautiful bit of drink in the Highlands is Loch Maree, one of the largest in the region. It is particularly scenic because of the mountainous backdrop, including the peak of distinctive Slioch (left). But the lake is not nearly as popular with tourists, perhaps because there's no legend associated with it. Out of obligation, the next day on our drive back to Edinburgh we paid a visit to Loch Ness, where we didn't see the same spectacular panorama -- or any unexplained monster (right).

 

Two lovable lab monsters stalked the grounds of the Lochcarron Hotel, where we stopped for dinner (top left). They were nice enough to stop interrupting us with requests to throw balls once our meals were served, filling our table with a smorgasbord of heaping plates: fish cakes, lamb, beef, ham, and prawns (top right). As we tucked in, a rainbow appeared over the village and water of Lochcarron, leaving us with a vivid memory for our time in the Highlands (bottom).