Back to Barcelona, part 1

February 22, 2013:
Thankfully, this time around I didn't miss my plane. I accredit this to the fact that I avoided Pizza Hut like the plague. I arrived in Barcelona gracefully (I like to think). I even made it to the hostel, Sant Jordi Sagrada Familia, without getting lost thanks to the excellent directions they provided. I dropped off my bag and decided to get properly lost with the help of my city map.

My first stop was a gorgeous park called the Parc del Clot.

It had water pouring from stone walls, kids playing basketball and lots of trees. *Sigh*. I continued to the Plaza de Glories where there is giant multi-coloured tower that sticks out on the city skyline like a sore thumb.

Further along the horizon, I realized I could see the Sagrada Familia. I continued to ramble along in that general direction. I knew I was getting close when I saw this:

I thought for a minute that it might be more entertaining to just watch my fellow tourists than to actually have a look at the cathedral, but luckily for me, I was to be doubly entertained. The cathedral is stunning. Personally, the most interesting thing about it is that it is still under construction.  Construction started in 1882, and Antoni Gaudí took over in 1883. In 1926, when he died because he was hit by a tram while crossing the street (I apologize. I realize this information is unnecessary, but for some reason I feel compelled to share it) less than a quarter of the project was completed. I read somewhere that it is expected to be finished in 2026. Gaudí is quoted as having said "My clint is not in a hurry" when asked about the lengthy construction period for the church. Aside from being interrupted by the Spanish Civil War, construction was generally slow because the project was funded by private donations in the beginning (I don't know if this is still the case).

I have been to a fair few churches throughout my European travels and this is by far the most interesting. However, I was too cheap and impatient to bother waititing in line to go inside. I'm sure the interior is just as impressive. I decided instead to buy my Barcelona magnet. The guy behind the counter kept giving me the creepiest looks, but I pulled off the whole transaction in Spanish. Yesss!!!

I checked into the hostel and was pleasantly surprised to receive a bear hug from the receptionist, a Brazilian, who told me I was his first check-in on the new system. I love hugs, so everyone was happy and it felt like a good omen for my trip. The best way I can describe the hostel is that it was really cool: the locks to the lockers were automatic and linked to the room key and your bed number so if you lost your key they could tell you exactly which bed you were staying in (ok so yes, this happened to me). The common area had bean bag chairs and a big screen TV and all the computers were free. The only complaint I had was that Barcelona was pretty cold and they only gave us a thin blanket each. And I hadn't had a chance to check the weather before I left so I had stupidly packed excessive numbers of summer shirts and only one sweater. I feel a sense of camaraderie with that sweater.

For "lunch", I ate at a Ukranian restaurant they had suggested on the map and listed as typically Spanish food. I got a free beer out of the deal, but the only typically Spanish food they had was paella and I'm still not sure how I feel about seafood. The meal was a bit sketchy and served with ketchup. It was about 3pm, so I was the only patron in the restaurant, but I couldn't remember how a typical day in Spain was supposed to be structured. I know they don't generally eat dinner until 10pm, but when do they eat lunch?! These were the questions I asked myself (and Hattie, because I wrote her a postcard to avoid the potential awkwardness of eating alone).

I returned to La Rambla, my former haunt, and decided to buy a Spanish-English phrasebook. Originally, I was torn. I learn Spanish in French, if you see what I mean, so I wasn't sure if I should get a Spanish-French phrasebook or a Spanish-English. It turns out I probably should have gotten the former because my brain is sort of trained to recall words that way, but I reasoned that when I get back to Canada, I will be learning in an English classroom. Probably. We'll have to wait and see if I made the right choice. I also picked up a pocket guidebook to Barcelona.

Anyway, the weather was a bit grim, but I went down to the beach and had a quick look around, wondering what to do for dinner. I think I found the student streets because there was some really cool-looking places on Carrer d'en Gignas, but it was much too early to stop and eat and I decided instead to take a nap before the hostel dinner at 9:30pm. Unfortunately, I never woke up for this dinner. I ended up sleeping straight through until morning. Barcelona tuckered me right out (after a late night Downton Abbey session after an Olympique Lyonnais-Tottenham "football" match until 2am the night before... oops!).

February 23, 2012:
I picked up some breakfast in the supermarket and managed to buy stamps for my postcards all in Spanish. Yessss! My phrasebook even came in handy: "Quisiera dos sellos internacionales, por favor." I felt like a boss. When I got off the metro at Vallcarca, the rain stopped and I had SUNSHINE for the rest of the day. Also a boss-like occurrence.

Parc Güell was my first stop of the day. I spent three hours marvelling at it. It was bizarre because the nature looked artificial and by comparison the construction and architecture seemed to be more natural in most areas of the park.

The further up I climbed, the more snow there was. Melted snow dripped from the trees. It felt a bit like hanging out in a giant playground. The views from here were also breathtaking and in order to appease my parents by getting some photos of myself, I offered to take photos of tourists whenever they seemed to want a group shot.

It was an effective approach. Exploring the park at my own pace was relaxing. The three hours I spent there passed in the blink of an eye, but eventually I got hungry. My favourite moment, perhaps, was listening to someone play the piano while I looked out over Barcelona from beneath one of the viaducts.

For lunch, I stopped at the Mercat de Boquiero at a food stand called Puerto Latino. I decided to get a taco and opted to try ordering in castellano (the most common dialect of Spanish). Since Barcelona is located in the region of Catalunya, with a people very proud of their language (catalan) and with attitudes ressembling those of Québécois separatists, speaking castellano  is a gamble. However, the reaction of the man serving me was still unexpected. He began speaking to me in French! Unfortunately, he was too busy to help me at that moment and passed me off to another girl who worked at the counter. I wanted to try to order in castellano again, but she spoke to me in English before I could get started. A few moments later, he came back and began to apologize to me in French and everyone became very confused. Me especially, as I was trying to think in 3 languages. Eventually everyone understood what was going on and I laughed to myself as I ate my taco on a bench and people-watched on La Rambla.

Apparently, I was in the mood for the outdoors because I chose to visit the Parc del Ciutadella next (the parliament buildings for Catalunya are located here). There were tons of locals picnicing, throwing frisbees around and reading under the trees.

As I admired this beautiful fountain, my fear of birds was vindicated. A flock of pidgeons flew over me. I imagine that they play a game where they attempt to hit humans with their excrements. I wonder how many points the bird that hit me was awarded. I really ought to carry a package of tissues around with me at all times, but alas, I was unprepared. The only solution was to go back to the hostel, clean off my coat and spend a few hours doing reading homework to regenerate the feeling in my legs. I had done a lot of walking already.

That night, I decided to try to make some friends by joining the nightly pub crawl. I met two Dutch guys who were 18 and 20, two Scottish girls who were closer to my age, a pair really cool Argentian sisters (22 and 16) and a smattering of other nationalities including a Portuguese guy who told me in English that Lisbon has areas that are not so "touristical". I couldn't bring myself to correct him. It honestly sounds like something I would say.

Beside me at the table in the hostel, I overheard a Québécoise girl speaking to a non-native French speaker. I wanted really badly to join the conversation and verify that she was Canadian, but I wasn't sure if she'd be as excited to meet me as I was to meet her. I think it would have been better as a Canadian not to speak any French at all than to speak French with an accent from France. I contented myself to apty listening to the way she spoke. It is remarkable how different the pronunciation is.

The tour group went out to a bar called Lincoln and I met a girl from Ohio who was bold enough to ask our god-like bartender what he was doing after work or tomorrow. She ended up with his name and an invitation to add him on Facebook. I was impressed. We did a shot of tequila together (salt, lemon and all) and I have to say it is one of the smoothest tequila shots I have ever done. I think mostly because it was in Spain. Although, I've never done a tequila shot in Mexico. We went to the bathroom together and our hostel group left for the nightclub, Otto Zanz, without us. It was just next door, so she didn't seem too concerned until I pointed out that we might not be able to get in without them. Sure enough, there was an enormous line to get in to the club and our hostel group was nowhere to be seen.

This story turns out to be anecdote of the differences between Canadians and Americans (maybe). My solutions were the following: 1) explain to the bouncers that we had been left behind by our hostel group and ask to be let in; 2) go to the end of the line and wait to get in; 3) go home. When we heard that cover was going to be 20 euros, I was leaning toward the last option. My friends solutions differed slightly. For her, explaining to the bouncer didn't seem like a good idea. As she was more proficient in Spanish than I am, she attempted to lie to him by saying that we were on the guest list, instead. We were not on the guest list. Or if she gave a fake name, it did not work out. He sent us to the back of the line. Her next idea was to try to flirt with boys near the front to let us in. This, for me, was humiliating, especially considering there were men whose job it was to prevent this from happening. Finally, she managed to strike up a conversation with some people further along in the line who had also missed their hostel group and we "stealthily" stepped in behind them. I was sure we would be kicked out when we got to the door because everyone would recognize us as the obnoxious girls who thought we were better than everyone else in the line. She appeased the people behind us by flirting with them. This paid off in the end. All of the people who had missed their hostel got into the bar on the guest list of one of the guys behind us who happened to be VIP. None of us paid to get in. I don't know if there is something to be learned from her (ie. keep asking for what you want), but I'm still mostly uncomfortable with the way things went down.

Once in the bar, the guy leading the hostel group was relieved to find us, but we quickly lost him and went upstairs to what she thought was the VIP section of the bar. She made out with one of the guys from Barcelona while I awkwardly danced next to them and then next to the group of guys who had gotten us in and then decided to get a drink. When I got back, they were gone and I was relieved to have the opportunity to look for the rest of the hostel. I found the Argentinian sisters, Sofia and Miluna, and had an excellent time because they were in the room with the best music in the club. The only drawback was that they could speak castellano, and I could not. We made it back to the hostel, had a glass of water and tucked ourselves into bed at around 5am. ZzzzZzzzzzzzzz.