Barthelonaaaaa

November 21st-24th...

 

It began with spit, continued to vomit, and ended with a lot of snot.  Weekend Barcelone.

 

In order to get to Barcelona the cheapest way possible, it was necessary to take a train to Paris, spend a whopping 8 hours there, and then fly to Barcelona… geographically stupid, economically smart.  After feasting on a delicious meal of quiche and Coca light, we arrived in Paris at 10pm.  Pulling an all-nighter is called “avoir une nuit blanche,” literally translated as “to have a white night,” but the expression is akin to “sleepless night.”  Here is the chronology of our nuit blanche.

 

22h00: arrival at Gare Montparnasse.  In the midst of our wandering out of the train station, Lindsay discovers an Uno piece on the ground (the McDo game equivalent to playing Monopoly with your soda cups and large fries)…. It turns out to be a free cheeseburger (!)

22h15: hocked loogies upon poor unsuspecting smokers below… then ran away fast.

22h20: We exit the train station (in the rain) and begin our walking tour of Paris.  Destination: Eiffel Tower.  Which turns out to be in the exact opposite direction that we were headed.

22h21: reversed directions.

 23h45: McDo trip to claim said free cheeseburger

01h30, Saturday November 22: found Eiffel Tower. Note: it turns off at 0100.

01h35: said “bon soir” to police with large machine guns… our hope was that being polite would make them less likely to shoot us.

01h45: found vomit on metro

01h46: changed metro cars

01h51: descend metro to find man passed out on floor. Dead (?)

01h53: arrival at Porte Maillot… we now have approximately four hours until the bus will whisk us off to the airport… our goal was to find some place warm to hang out that “homeless people weren’t already sleeping in.”

02h30:stumbled upon concierge bored and unfortunate enough to offer us shelter from the cold… Lindsay made her “pathetic” face, which greatly upped our odds of being welcomed in.  We obliged and spent the rest of the night making awkward small talk in this tiny hotel lobby, all in French, and declining several propositions to join drunken Frenchies up to their rooms. We also enjoyed a game of “find this united state” and “find this French city” on two badly drawn maps, which we succeeded at tremendously. We redeemed all of America in these three French people’s eyes… the Germans, however, were decidedly unconcerned with our geography skills and were very insistent on giving us a tour of “ROOM 19! NUMBER 19!”  Needless to say, we did not oblige. 

04h45: breakfast pastries arrive at the hotel… ingest croissant.

05h30: left the hotel (after exchanging emails and phone numbers) and ventured out into the (freezing) cold

06h00: nuit blanche ends, as it is definitely the morning and we are en route to the airport…

 

The weekend continues…

 

Upon arrival at the airport, we check in, fly to Girona, and take another bus to Barceona.  After this, we all took naps in our hostel room, which overlooked the lovely Plaça Reial and was only steps away from Las Ramblas.  After waking up and taking a shower in the most disgusting shower I’ve ever seen (I brought shower shoes, don’t worry), it was time to explore the city and do some souvenir shopping.  Post-money spending, we returned to the hostel to enjoy happy hour and make some Brazilian, Canadian, French, and Romanian friends… and take advantage of the 2-for-1 happy hour deal at the bar.  We got in the dinner line just in time (dinner is included in the hostel price, but they don’t cook for everyone, so once they’re out, they’re out), and were the last three people to get food… which was then shared with our newfound friends, who were all in line behind us.

 

Being such kind and considerate people left us rather hungry, so Erin and I took advantage of the vending machines in the bar/common room… and then we proceeded to ask the clerk at the front desk directions to the nearest churro con chocolate store… the proceeded to leave the hostel, have a conversation about Barcelonian attractions with two Frenchmen, walk to Las Ramblas, run into our Canadian friends, and finally make it to the Café de l’Opera, where we ordered a pitcher of Sangria and three servings of churros con chocolate, which was basically a platter of churros (just the fried dough, not rolled in sugar) and a coffee cup full of hot, melted chocolate for each of us.  We then ate all of it.  Tasty.

 

Sunday morning rolls around, and we are determined to be touristy.  Following our free breakfast and the purchase of futbol tickets, we headed out to the Parc Gueil (aka the Gaudi Park).  For those who don’t know (I had no idea before I came here, don’t feel bad) this mosaic artist named Gaudi had a huge influence on Barcelona… architecture, style, art, everything.  Barcelona even calls itself the “City of Gaudi.”  If you’ve ever seen a movie set in Barcelona, then you’ve probably seen this park… it offers panoramic views of the city (forest and beach) and is absolutely gorgeous… Gaudi’s old house is partially converted into a school and partially into a museum… there are mosaic’s everywhere up this steep hill, which offers those of us not-stair-inclined escalators to pull us to the top.

 

After Gaudi, it was lunchtime… cheap kabobs, anyone?  Post-Pita Inn, it was off to the Picasso Museum, which chronicled his life through his paintings… very interesting, and very cool… Picasso did a lot of other stuff besides paint, which I had no idea about (lithography, pottery), plus it turns out he was kind of a perv and kind of a pimp.

 

Art appreciation led us to gelato consumption and then a metro ride to the futbol game, in the largest stadium in all of Europe… Barcelona tied 1-1, and the security guys even let us move up a couple rows! (Not like it made a huge difference, we were in the nosebleed section anyway).

 

The night concluded with some more common time in the common room, then packing and off to bed… which had a sheet hanging across the bottom bunk when I woke up… guess we all know what the Australian dude did last night!

 

Monday was another day of traveling… metro, bus, airplane, bus, train, tram... home in time for dinner!  Overall, a very successful and slightly ridiculous weekend.  And I can now speak one Portuguese phrase and do some very silly impressions of Romanians, Canadians, and Brazilians.

 

PS: If you’re wondering where the aforementioned “snot” came in, I seem to have developed a slight cold and spent a lot of time sneezing…