On Monday morning my dad needed to do some office work so Chris and my mom and I decided to bop around town. My mom had never done one of the hop-on, hop-off bus tours that one of the senior couples in the mission raved about, so we decided to give it a try.
We took the subway downtown to a central square and hopped on top. It kept threatening to rain but luckily never did. It was actually a great tour, with audio headphones that explained everything we passed. And it hit all the major sites. I think it would be a fantastic way to see the city if you didn't have a car.
That night on the subway home both of my parents got calls from missionaries at the same time, and I felt the need to document. It's not all fun and games over there! My mom is the resident nurse slash doctor slash physical therapist (I kid you not, I heard her giving muscle stretching/strengthening exercises over the phone to a missionary while we were there, ha ha). My dad is the problem solver slash final approval giver slash recipient of all complaints (mostly about companions). And their phones never stop ringing! It's almost comical. But they are doing a fantastic job.
This was a sad, sad, sad day. We woke up early to head to the airport with my parents. Our flight to Paris was at about noon, and my parents had a flight to Mallorca at 3:00 PM, but we needed to pick up a senior couple who was supposed to be arriving around 9:00 AM. So we loaded our gear into the combi and took one final picture in front of the mission home.
The Barcelona airport was every bit as lovely and modern as the rest of the city.
Finally, it was time for Chris and I to say goodbye and get on our plane. I didn't want to do it. I wanted to stay forever, but I knew I couldn't. It felt just as bad as it did the day we said goodbye to them almost a year ago. Agh, it was bad. But we gave hugs and kisses and thanked them for such an AMAZING trip with them, and then we walked down the gangway.