But it's pronounced "poopy"...

Yes, that's right, you're looking at the back end of a gigantic dog made up of entirely of flowers.

The "poopy" (that's really what they call it here) lives out in front of the Guggenheim Museum, welcoming guests and encouraging two of Dad's favorite pasttimes: photography and, well, poopies.





On another note, today we had these great plans to leave city and head to a smaller town about an hour away to fully immerse ourselves in Basque history and culture. Instead, I got some sort of stomach bug and Dad spent the trying to make me eat a banana. (Please, no "poopy" jokes--I already thought of them all...)



Eventually I gave up, a victory Dad celebrated with pictures.

And, just in case you thought we were bailing on our duties as faithful followers of Holy Week processions, we did catch a bit of last night's four-hour long Holy Thursday display.





Here we caught a glimpse of the Last Supper as they crossed over the bridge from the Casco Viejo to the newer part of town.

Perhaps a poopy night for others as well?

Hasta pronto,
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