I remembered today how much I love Bosch. The Prado is packed with amazing paintings. And it is air conditioned, as is the Reina Sofia, which we entered free. Did you know that some people go into the room with Picasso's Guernica, stand in front of the painting, have their photo taken with it, and then leave without ever having looked at the work itself? It's baffling.

In case the Prado didn't give it away, we're in Madrid, having arrived from Barcelona yesterday. I'd say we had two very different experiences of that city. My disappointment in Gaudi after La Sagrada Familia skewed my mood, although a group of Belgians slowly put me on track to appreciating his work by taking me to see various Gaudi-inspired mosaics in and around the Gothic Quarter. (I had refused to go to Parc Güell with Alyssa after the church, so she went alone and I headed back downtown to find my lens cap.) We went to the finish line of the Tour de France's Stage 6, in the pouring rain and rowdy crowds, and I wondered what the hell I'd done with my afternoon. I like watching the Tour. I shouldn't do so in crap weather when I can barely see. Needless to say, I wasn't keen to head back to the crowds for the next day's departure, so I came up with a different activity for myself, one which I'm sure (I'm positive) made Alyssa CRAZY. I went to Parc Güell. And it was great. There were trails to climb and see the city (including the water!) and the design that I couldn't deal with in a religious building made total sense in a natural setting. Also, the Tour followed the main street near Parc Güell so I got to see them fly by. Literally. Okay, not literally. But close enough. It didn't even take 20 seconds for the entire pack of riders to pass me by. Totally awesome.

Alyssa has her own story about her last morning in Barcelona. I'm not allowed to talk about it, but it does involve the fact that her sister is possibly more awesome than watching the peloton go by. That's the teaser. It's late. We're going back to the hostel to sleep.