Get thee to a nunnery

Mont Blanc
In Mont Blanc, it is the low season (even though the hotels still charge high season rates) because Mont Blanc is inland and almost everyone heads to the beach. Almost everything seemed closed almost all of the time. On the recommendation of our hotelier, we headed to Poblat to see the monastery. Everyone filed up some stairs to put their hand on a cup held out by baby Jesus. Debbie said a prayer; I took a solemn vow. Debbie prayed for directions, (the map was starting to get confusing) and I vowed to stay an aetheist all my life. The place was beautiful and peaceful. A small handful of priests still live there, but the real money is in the merchandising.

Monserrat
After this, we headed to Monserrat monastery which sits on top of a mountain. Debbie drove, I kept my lunch down. It turns out to be a whole village of a monastery with its own tourist hotel, finicula, museum, choir boy school and more. Some cute little nuns swans around, and for all I know they might have been actors dressed as nuns, sort of like they have actors dressed as gold miners at Sovereign Hill in Ballarat.

Girona
Getting to Girona was not hard, getting into Girona’s old town was a real trial. A walled medieval city with a rabbit warren layout of tiny streets inside a modern industrial city is a navigator’s nightmare. We eventually disobeyed several traffic rules, found a hotel, a car park (not together of course) and declared ourselves heros. Dinner was a picnic of the food and beer we had accumulated.
The morning was wonderful. A huge outdoor market sprung up like Brigadoon, we found our way to the Arab Baths, the top of the wall for a big walk, the catheral, the cafes and eventually all the way back to the car. It seemed Debbie’s prayer had worked.