A trip to Spain dreamed of for centuries. Sunny, narrow, cobbled streets, lovely old buildings sharing with you their spirit, passionate Spaniards. I've always loved the sun, golden beaches, blue sea and ciszchy sound of waves breaking on the shore.
Finally, my dream came true. Here I was in a country passionate flamenco. I see korridę, show the clash of human and animal power. I also promised that I would see the famous fighting in tomatoes. What's more, I had to spend two long weeks with my fiance to celebrate the four years we spent together. Romantic walks on the beach, sunsets with a glass of wine, watching shooting stars at night is something I've been waiting.
This particular day we had to have some time for myself and Kevin suggested to explore the beautiful city of Barcelona. With the Catalan Hospital of St. Cross and Paul went to the Sagrada Familia. After admiring the magnificent temple decided to see the street La Rambla, but the phone rang Kevin. We were a little bit surprised, because everyone knew that we were in Spain. But the shock was yet to come. In the second, Kevin stopped smiling. He also became pale. I began to be afraid. He ended the conversation short: "Yes, thank you" - and he looked at me with infinite sadness in his eyes.
"What happened?" - I asked. "My father ... he ..." - Kevin hesitated. - "He is dead." I could not believe my ears: "But ... how?" - I managed to whisper. "Infarction. The funeral on Monday. You can stay here, enjoy your dream trip. I'm going back, "- he said. Never I would not have left: "I'm going with you! Let's go back to the hotel "- I suggested. Bummed returned to the place where we stayed. In the silence we packed up and checked out the next flight to London. Within four hours we landed at Heathrow and went straight to Kevin's house to support his mother. And, despite the fact that our vacation was ruined, I know that I would have done the same thing no matter how many times I could choose from.