Pre-Barcelona, I didn’t know much about Gaudí. I only knew the most basic of basics: he was quirky, and Sagrada Família needs some major work. Honestly, I  kind of lumped him together with Dalí and called it a day. We did the bare minimum of touristy things during our quick trip to Barca. Well, unless you count eating all the tapas as touristy, which I DO. But we saved both Park Güell and Sagrada Família for the same day, and skipped his house this round. I’d love to tell you I learned so much about the man, the myth, and the legend, but alas… I did…

True story: if the hubs and I didn’t move just south of Paris, Barcelona was a very close second. I had mixed feelings about this possibility for a few reasons, and most of them were, unsurprisingly, food-based. Living off of baguettes & brie & pain au chocolat for a year? Oui, oui, eeetttt oui. But a year full of tapas? I mean, it’s very non-specific. I could never quite envision myself leading a life filled with sangria and jamon and tapas for everyone… because, well, for one, I had never been to Spain, and two: tapas can mean anything as…