BARCELONA

The twelve hour night train to Barcelona was hideous. Claustrophobic would be an understatement. I woke up in the middle of the night and thought I was trapped. I did have three lovely lady closet-mates though. Only two could speak English so the other woman and I just blinked at each other and did hand gestures. 

When I got to Barcelona, I was so pleased to find that my hostel was in an old apartment complex with an elevator straight out of Harriet the Spy! I had a room with my own balcony and a parlor to pretend was my own. After arriving, I walked down to Las Ramblas, a street noted for its performers and eccentric street vendors. True to its reputation, I soon found myself suddenly able to buy anything from domestic house pets to illegal smoking instruments but, found the streets so full of people I could barely move. I did manage to buy a sick turquoise ring for five euros before making a quick exit.

Monday was ugly. I wandered through the gothic quarter and stumbled upon a store called Incas, a small hole-in-the-wall specializing in hand made Native American artifacts. I snagged an Indigenous printed crop top for €7.50 and walked out happy. I also found a small gem shop where I chose a pendant with a huge clear quartz and turquoise on a gold chain. On my way back to the hostel, I found a boutique where I bought a black, studded dress and a graphic tee with printed suspenders which I am planning to cut.

The following day, I took my second trip to Park Guell --architect Gaudi's fantasy-playground-masterpiece. Unfortunately it was pouring rain so I stayed just  long enough to get a few shots and discover that the Gaudi Museum was closed. Park Guell is the closest thing I have ever seen to Candy Land and I was all about it so I didn't mind the long, winding hike up the mountain side to get there. The most interesting thing was how many of the locals had no idea it was there!

That night, I decided to go out to a bar called Apollo with some people from my hostel. Because it didn't open until two, we started at a gentlemen's bar for drinks and, at €3 a piece, I had myself one too many mojitos. I stuck with a boy who worked at my hostel and got let in at no change and had free champagne refills all night in exchange for teaching him how to dance.

The next day I woke up to forty degree weather and pouring rain. In denial I strapped on my one-piece and slipped out in a crop top, denim mom-shorts and leather sandals, headed for the beach. I was so excited to discover that in Barcelona you can get to the beach on the subway. I guess I forgot that it was March and the beach would be freezing.

The beach at Nova Icara was a little lacking and I was one of the only people there. I stayed just long enough to attempt to read the Timeaus for an essay I have due when I get back.  I stopped at at tapas place for seafood before going home to crash. 

After two Tylenols, three Paracetamols and a coffee, I was conscious enough to hike to Montjuic, which among having an impressive art gallery, housed the 1992 Olympics. The site's been criticized for being ugly and I would maybe have to agree. However, the views of the city from the mountainside were little short of breathtaking. 

That night I took myself out for fine dining on Las Ramblas (it's much better at night) I had a pot of paella to myself and was so impressed that I was able to eat all of it! The tourist couple next to me starting arguing with the waiter that their special sangria float bowls were $$$$. I was glad I kept it classy and had sparkling water. Even when you're on a date with yourself it's not cute to be a hot mess!