“I think my stomach’s trying to eat itself,” Grant says as we make our way along the sand-sprinkled, tiled promenade. The streets lined with moonlit 19th-century buildings steer us to loud, bustling bars with gritty, distinguished storefronts and Basque-lettered awnings. We decide to try eating at as many of them as humanly possible.
this sums up my entire trip to Spain. WHY DON’T I LIVE THERE!? is something I ask myself every fucking day.