We went to Barcelona for five days with three of our good Cambridge friends. We were visiting a swing dance camp called Barswingona, we looked around Barcelona and we caught up with other dance friends from around the world. I had lots of fun dancing in Barcelona and here are some photos.

The dance floor was very large, very busy and full of good dancers (and a few too many who ‘thought’ they were THE BEST, but we ignored them).

One day we also danced on a square outdoors to live music.

During the day we went sight seeing and guess what we bumped into: a little jazz band playing in one of the main shopping streets. Of course we had to have a dance.

Everyone watching loved it, especially the funny Portuguese man who you see in the photo below. He walked up REALLY close taking footage and photos with his camera.

* Beautiful, famous bath houses
* Nice people
* Big beautiful impressive buildings
* Many homeless people
* Wide streets
* Currency – 1 Pound=350 Florint
* Many big statues of Hungarian Kings and soldiers – Hungary has known many wars and revolutions and has never won any
* Nice food – Goulash, yummie
* Hungarian language – I tried REALLY hard for 5 days and only learned the words for ‘thank you’ and ‘little kiss’. The language is like no other language. I learned the first word because of it was very useful, the second word because it is an english word as well, but with a different meaning. Ask me in person to tell you what they are because the first one I don’t know how to spell and the second one I can’t write on my blog, or say out loud, without being very rude, haha.

I was visiting Hungary to teach Lindy Hop. It was a great trip, with lots of nice dances and lovely people (3 American teachers plus me, 2 Finish students on exchange and everyone else Hungarian) in a beautiful city! Here are some stories.

In this first photo I am having lunch. Very tasty pancakes and a huge cup of ice tea I just remember the man who sold them to me. Well, I remember his hands really. His hands were small with big fingers that looked like they had done hard labour all their life, because they were not the frail pink colour of many unlaboured hands in the world. Those hands rolled up the tiny thin pancakes.

My American friends could not believe he did that without wearing plastic gloves — which is custom in the States I believe. I did not care, because these hands rolled up my little pancake with so much care, they must taste good — and they did!

See below my ‘big-but-careful-hands-pancake-friend’!