Barcelona y Bueno

Alright. I know I'm seriously lagging in my blog posts! I have them all stored on my iPad, just can't find internet to post them all! There is not a Mcdonald's on every corner in Europe, contrary to my beliefs, so forgive the barrage of stories coming your way. There's some good ones though, I think, so it's worth the wait! ----------- September 12: Woke up running late again (obviously), and struggled to catch the 11 am train to Barcelona from Alicante. With Anselm's help, though, I race walked to the station and got there with 2 minutes to spare. Gotta hand it to him, he knows how to hustle! I also have a newfound respect for race walking, mall walkers, and any such related activities..

I got to my hostel late afternoon. Great location, on one of the richest streets in town. One block from Casa Batllo (a Gaudi creation). On my way in, guess who I run into? Mr. Zimbabwe himself--literally, in the elevator. Small world! (We met in Seville, in case you can't remember where he fits into my timeline). We reunited and went for dinner in a plaza nearby. It was very touristy and we couldn't decide on a place that looked remotely as good as the tapas we had in Seville, so we decided to sacrifice our menu for the perk of having a meal outdoors in a courtyard designed by Gaudi. As I was still recovering from the whirlwind that was Alicante, we didn't go out after, but had a leisurely stroll on La Rambla, the big pedestrian boulevard nearby.

That night, I had the craziest hostel experience to date. Turns out that in my 12 person dorm, it is me, one other guy, and 10 soccer hooligans from Italy who are in town for the big match vs. Inter Milan tomorrow. Well. They come back from wherever really late, making a ton of noise, turning lights on, slamming doors, etc, just being really disrespectful of the two of us who were already in bed. I tolerate it silently, but the guy in the bunk underneath me starts yelling at them. "Keep it down! Some of us are trying to sleep! Did you even pay to be in here? You don't have sheets on your bed!" Etc. Now clearly this is not the smartest thing to say to a drunk person, let alone ten of them. They go silent and for a moment and I think wow, maybe the scolding actually worked! Then I hear a stream of liquid being poured onto something near our bunk. THEY'RE PEEING ON HIS STUFF!

Oh my goodness. I lay there, rigidly frozen, PRAYING they at least got the stuff right and didn't do mine by mistake! Can you imagine that happening to you?! Ugh just the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen! He complained and I never saw them again, so I can only assume they were kicked out (and rightly so).

Great (albeit interesting) start to my time in Barcelona--I'm loving this city already--minus the soccer hooligans.