I just returned from Barcelona, where I spent four fabulous days with my 16-year-old daughter, Cassie. Cassie is spending the school year studying in Spain. We are extremely compatible travelling companions; we both love to walk, and we both love to eat and to try new foods, and we both like visiting museums and churches, for short stints anyway. I don’t speak Spanish, and Cassie very much does, so I basically followed her around like a bleating sheep.
Some highlights of the trip were this huge Nativity scene in Sant Jaume Square: 
It’s a Catalan tradition, dating back to the eighteenth century, to put a “caganer” (loosely translated as “a pooper”) somewhere in the scene. He’s usually tucked away somewhere, far enough away from the Baby Jesus so as not to be disrespectful, but somewhere:
I know. It’s a little bizarre, but it’s a tradition, not only in Catalonia, but also parts of France and Italy. Caganers symbolize fertilization, hope, and prosperity for the coming year.
Cassie tolerated her mother’s odd interests, posing for the many beautiful and still-functional water stand-pipes throughout the city:
She also patiently translated my questions to various museum guards. We visited the amazing “Casa Milla,” one of Gaudi’s apartment buildings:
It has an actual 1904-era apartment you can walk through, and as we were traipsing through she gamely approached a guard, blushing prettily, and said, “She wants to know where the toilet is. No, not the public restroom—the original toilet.” This wasn’t on the main tourist circuit, but it’s a beautiful example of an early flush toilet. That undulating pipe is so . . . Gaudiesque, isn’t it? 
As you may know, they eat dinner late in Spain. We waited as long as we could stand it, and still were the first people in the restaurant each night. Here’s proof (note the time on the clock):
Most of the places where we ate were full by the time we were having dessert.