Today is my last day of work before my vacation. I’m going to Barcelona for a week, attending a class reunion.

This trip is a little surreal to me. Normally when I’m traveling, even when it’s for work, I like to do a lot of research into the destination before I get there. Although I like a culture shock, I also like to be aware of things such as the layout of the neighborhood where I’ll be staying, ahead of time. I like to be the smartass know where I’m going.

This time I didn’t choose the destination, and I have to admit I hardly know anything about it. I’ve bought the Lonely Planet guide* to Barcelona, but I haven’t even opened it yet. I’ll probably read something about Gaudí on the plane there, but that’s it. I just haven’t gotten myself into a full Barcelona-frenzy. This might have to do with not having chosen the place, but I’ve also just been busy with dancing and other stuff.

Now that the departure draws near, however, the trip has to command some of my attention. All of a sudden I realize, oh my God I’m going somewhere strange. Paradoxically, there’s something new and exciting about completely winging it, not knowing anything about what to expect.

So okay, Spain, I’m on my way. Surprise me.

* Note this on your next vacation: Lonely Planet guidebooks are bar none the absolute most useful, usable and well-written guidebooks around, by a lot. Take it from someone who’s tried Let’s Go, the Rough Guide and Le Routard. I swear by Lonely Planet.