Nonetheless, after a few months spent in the Catalan capital, you will realise that it really does not have anything to envy to Paris at all. To illustrate this adventurous theory, I will base my reasoning on one Catalan tradition you may know under another name: Sant Jordi (also known as Saint George in England). On April 23rd of every year – as a tribute to William Shakespeare and Miguel de Cervantes – Catalonia celebrate its lovers. The tradition wants that on that day of the year, a man give the woman of his heart red roses while she will/should offer him a book in return. While this must sound just like another marketing trick to complement Valentine’s day, I cannot but use John Paul Young’s words to let you know that “Love is really in the air” on Sant Jordi’s day. Once every year, intrepid Spanish men from all over the Catalan kingdom climb down from their high horses with red roses to celebrate their lady-love. The older ones will go to the women they have loved for years, while their younger counterparts will finally gather their courage to affirm the little crush they have on their neighbours for a few days. Or wait… Could it be the other way around? Anyway, in order to perpetuate the tradition, you will observe local families running small stalls and selling roses on every street corners to make sure no lady is forgotten. Who said romanticism was a French thing? It may well be Catalan…

… At least for a day.

Personal note to my French fellows: One cannot but bow to the Sant Jordi’s tradition. Don’t get me wrong but the only time of the year when a tradition get the French crowd out in the street with flowers is May 1st, la Fete du Muguet. While Catalans are celebrating their lovers with flowers, we are gathering as much as luck as we can on our sides. Well… We may be needing it.