¡Barça! ¡Barça! ¡Barça! Barcelona: Parte Dos

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And now the weekend starts.
I had this great idea that I would split the weekend between 2 hostels, the first being the party hostel, and the second in one that would be quieter, calmer, a place that I could write and read and relax. Why I had any idea that this would be appealing, I have no idea, even after 2 nights of an average of 4 hours sleep I was still rearing and ready. Anyway, I trudged to my next hostel, on the outskirts of town, and did not pass a single restaurant, bar or club (unheard of in Barcelona). The concierge (don’t think you get this title in a hostel but whatever…) brought me up to my room where I’m supposed to sleep soundly, opens the door and I am introduced to the 3 Andre the Giants from Eastern Europe that I am supposed to share a room with. I must have looked terrified, because the first thing one of them said to me was, “You don’t need to worry” in a thick Romanian accent. It turned out though that they were some of the sweetest guys I’ve met, and the night that they came in after me (which must have been 6 am…) one of them pulled the blanket over my bare foot.
Little did I know, I had made one good decision with the second hostel, I could walk to Camp Nou, where Barcelona FC plays. That night Barcelona was playing against Real Madrid in Madrid, so I went on a tour of the field to get pumped for the game. The stadium was awesome. Normally you wouldn’t be able to tell, but when the stadium is empty, the chairs spell out, “Mas de un club” which means ‘More than a team’, my heart raced. Later, I met 2 people from my hostel at an Irish bar in Plaza Real to watch the game. Even a half hour before, the bar was packed, with both Madrid and Barca supporters. Somehow, I sweet talked my way into 3 over stuffed leather chairs that I stood on top of for most of the game, screaming at all 6 (SIX!) of Barcelona’s goals, winning over all 6-2. After the game, we stumbled into the plaza to find a huge botallon (party on the streets) where thousands of Barca fans were singing songs, climbing lamp posts, drinking Estrella Damm and building massive fires out of the cities rental bikes, and garbage cans. It was wild, and I had a great time being right in the middle of it. Sadly, because I was taking so many pictures with ecstatic fans, and drunken festivities, I let my guard down for a second, put my camera in my pocket, and didn’t realize that it was gone til I was on the train on my way home. Pickpocketers are professionals in Barcelona, and I was had. I’m sad to have lost all my pictures, especially since I was never able to upload them because the chord was at home, but I am making up for the memories in writing. Words are worth a thousand pictures… right?
The next day (Sunday), I met a friend at the beach for a couple hours but she left early to catch a flight home and I stayed to fry in the sun. I was starting to wonder what I was going to do with myself, because all my new friends had left. At 1:30 pm, Liverpool played Newcastle so on my way home from the beach I stopped by a bar to check the score. It was 2-0 right before half time, and I asked a guy who had scored. We started talking, turned out he and the group he was with were from Liverpool, and I stayed to watch the second half with them, drinking on their tabs. After the game, they were going to the beach and wanted me to come so I said I would tag along for a bit. We hung out on the beach until I realized that it was Sunday and I had tickets to the Barcelona B football team called FC Espanyol that started in a half hour. They promised not to let my beer portion go to waste, I told them I would meet up with them when I was in England at the Punch Bowl (which I probably won’t) and I sprinted to the game. The stadium was beautiful. The Olympic Stadium was built for the 1992 Olympics, and (I felt) it was grander than Camp Nou. However, its at the top of a mountain that the metro doesn’t go to, and by the time I made it to my seat, the sun, beer and run, had me beat. It didn’t last long though, I was so close to the people to my right and left, that whenever they jumped up, I was pulled up with them. There was as more energy than at a Seahawks games, and I can only hope that my first Sounders game will be as good… (but I won’t hold my breath).
When I got back to my hostel I ran into a guy, (literally hit him with the door to the kitchen) who turned out to be from Seattle, but has been living in Switzerland for the last 2 years playing basketball professionally, and was slowly making his way back home, but seeing some of Europe on the way. I had to laugh when he next asked me “I’m booking a hostel for tomorrow in Granada, have you even been there?” This has literally been the case for everyone I meet, by some crazy coincidence that keeps me from every being completely alone, without anyone to hang out with or talk to. I told him I lived there and would take him to the best tapas places, he in turn invited me to have dinner with him and a friend that night. We exchanged crazy stories, talked about places we had been (I so badly want to go to Chinquatera) and met up the next day to go to a hole-in-the-wall Champañería that is completely unmarked and hidden for the world. Once inside, the place is packed (even at noon), and you stand and drink cava or champagne and eat complimentary sandwiches that must be God’s gifts to anyone who manages to find the place. It is an absolute must for anyone going to Barcelona (On Calle Reina Christina- Buene Suerte). I spent the rest of the day wandering the huge market called Mercat de la Boqueria, which makes the Pike Place Market look like a fruit stand on pac hiway.
Okay kids, I’m living off cough syrup, have no clean clothes or food in the house, and stayed in bed all day after class regardless of the beautiful weather. Its 4 pm, and am planning a 6 o’clock bedtime. Gotta be better by Friday, right? Look for new pictures on Picasa muy pronto!!

Kisses and Coughs,
Annie

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