The bus ticket said to be there at 10:45 pm, to "register" for the bus which was supposed to leave at 11:45 pm. The bus showed up at 12:35am, and the driver was a total dick. yeah france!
We arrived in Barcelona at about 6am. One may assume that I slept on the bus, but I had the tremendous fortune of sitting next to an Australian backpacker (who didn't wear socks with his sneakers) who felt the need to take his shoes off and put his feet up for the entire bus to smell. I had my scarf over my face, but the pungent aroma seeped its way into everything. His friend sat behind me, and was one of the loudest snorers I've heard in a while. But it was that kind of snoring where you can actally HEAR the snot. You could hear all of what was going on in his nasal cavity. I was a bit disgruntled.
So... it's 6am, do we find a 24 hour hotel and try to get some sleep? orrrr do we wait it out until noon when we can check in to a hostel for the following night, thus saving ourselves a night's worth of lodging money? We chose the latter, and walked around the town. We decided it would be cool to walk down to the water and see the sun rise, so that's what we did!
The first thing that will catch your eye in Barcelona (other than the fact that it looks like a level from SKATE) are that all the fountains and monuments are decorated with so much detail is such a non-regimented kind of way. It's really something to behold, even at 6 am when you haven't slept at all.
Made it to the harbor:
It's the place to be.
Oh hey just filling up a few plastic bags with water...
I saw on a balcony "dali tribute free 3rd floor" so we went up to see it, and it was just this guy's house and all the rooms were FULL of all these huge paintings he did of either Dali or naked women in S&M attire... or both... sometimes he would put his own face in there too with a diamond on his forehead like shining out into the painting. It was pretttyyyyy nutssss.
The entrance to the hostel was pretty cool:
Here's a church
Here's that church from our hostel's balcony
If you go to Barcelona, go to a restaurant called "Trobador" and feast upon the best seafood this little vermonter has ever tasted...
batter fried squiddsss SO FRESHHH
steamed muscles- soooo good
(now on to the bar)
OLDE ENGLISH ON TAP! BAAHHHAHH (it's cider... but still... it's OE!)
This is the beer of Barcelona. They love it. Heck, I love it.
There were enough americans in this bar to play some ruit, so we did. As I discussed rules with the others before the games started (2 racks, rebound over the table behind the back, island cup, etc.) My English friend experienced serious culture shock. It's like when I try to understand cricket...
Alex got pick-pocketed by a salsa-dancing thief about 60 seconds after taking this photo...
YAH!
Night one adjourned.
In the following days we will come to find the most wonderful hosts in the world, Andreu and Arnau, who hosted us for the rest of our journey, which will be up shortly...
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