We had a fun and fast-paced
few days in London, but by the time our flight rolled around, we were more than
ready for some siesta and sunshine. Leg two of our trip began with a midday flight
to Barcelona.
We stayed near Plaça Reial, which is on the edge of El Barri Gotic (aka the Gothic Quarter). Being between La Rambla and Plaça Reial really epitomized Barcelona’s reputation as the city that never sleeps – there was always something going on.
We stayed near Plaça Reial, which is on the edge of El Barri Gotic (aka the Gothic Quarter). Being between La Rambla and Plaça Reial really epitomized Barcelona’s reputation as the city that never sleeps – there was always something going on.
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| Plaça Reial |
The day we arrived was the
festival of Sant Joan (celebration of the summer solstice), which probably
amplified the excitement in the city. We wandered over to La Boqueria, ate everything in sight, and did a little more exploring of the area. Despite our tiredness, we rallied that
night and headed to la Barceloneta to catch the fireworks. The beached was
packed with groups, drinking and dancing and having a good time. We grabbed
drinks and managed to stay until 1am before calling a night. Being American, I
guess I anticipated a legitimate, timed fireworks display, but that never
occurred (or maybe we left before it happened?). There were, however, plenty of
randos out setting off their own fireworks. This made the walk home
particularly traumatizing as kids would try to set their fireworks off near
walkways, and laugh when it would scare the life out of unsuspecting souls
(e.g. me).
The next day, we attempted Park
Guell (only to make it to the mosaic area and find out it was a 3-hour wait—rookie
move), and when that proved unsuccessful, we headed to Montjuïc. The
semi-terrifying ride up the gondola lift was worth the views of the Castle and
the harbor from the top of the hill. We then made our way to Palau Nacional,
which offered more breathtaking views of the city.
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| Castell de Montjuïc |
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| Palau Nacional |
That night, we ended up at a
bar across from the hostel with a few of our roommates***. It was supposed to
be an easy night, with a few beers and sangrias; however, the night resulted in
an amusing Hangover-style iCloud album that documents one of the most
questionable evenings of our trip. Nothing terrible happened (apart from
someone puking out our hostel window and a roommate getting carried in by two
cops), but I think we established that there is no such thing as a casual night
in Barcelona…
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| Questionable night but it ended alright (i.e. with pizza) |
I have to end this post with
an elaboration of the aforementioned roommates. We were fortunate enough to
have a friend book two of our hostels for us, with the anticipation of private
rooms. When we showed up to our Barcelona hostel, we were kindly informed we were
being placed in an 8-bed mixed dorm… not exactly what we were expecting. Our
first night, our roomies included some debatably friendly Germans (who only
spoke to us after one was caught laughing at my suggestion that we nap for
45mins) and a Canadian solo-traveler named Max. The next day, the Germans got
the boot, and were replaced by what I can only call the most interesting trio
of Kiwis I’ve ever met. They were:
Bread – Real name Brad, but
sounds like bread. Called us messy and liked to ask random questions, as well
as egg on the other roommates.
Cinco – Our resident stoner,
who was carried in (one cop holding hands, one holding feet) one night for
sleeping on the street. Actually a decent and intelligent guy when he’s not
passed out or incoherent. Liked to talk about global issues,
Thumper – The most memorable character of all
time. 6’1”, boisterous rugby player who I can only describe in quotes:
“Don’t
worry girls, my number one rule is I don’t f hostelmates” – within 5 mins of
meeting us
“There
she is… my little Asian bee. I am going to woo you” – to J
“Did
you study economics in school? Because I guarantee that I am bigger, and better
looking than you” – to J’s bf, upon intercepting her phone
“Have
you girls seen my gold card?” “Your credit card?” “Yeah…I can’t find it”
“You’re
26-years-old. You need to get your life together and stop smoking weed everyday”
– to Cinco
“Guys,
I got arrested last night”
So this was what we dealt with for the next few
days. Really, the only issue was Thumper. When he wasn’t around, things were
pretty okay. And he wasn’t even that bad… just always loud and always propositioning
anything that moved for sex… I mean it could’ve been worse, right?
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