Arriving in Barcelona, Spain

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The Paris airport is so... Paris. Or at least what I would imagine Paris would be like. Instead of stands with packaged sandwiches, they had cute treats of some sort in a variety of pastel colors and little cafés and espresso bars that were a few stairs down in a cozy little boxed in area. Not cramped quarters, unpleasant cozy... Unless you're an American and accustomed to your space... then you may feel like your territory is being invaded. It's amazing how much space we have. Sit on an airplane next to two non-American strangers and they share the armrest, not minding their arms are touching. Sit on an airplane next to two American strangers and either you'll find one a-hole that feels entitled to the entire thing or two folks that keep their arm to themselves as to not intrude on the other.

Going through Paris customs, the guy asked where I was going and started singing, "Barcelona! Barcelona!..." which I would then have stuck in my head the rest of Barcelona and then some.

When I arrived in Barcelona, Spain, it was a relief to immediately see Raj waiting at the departure gate. It's a little nerve wrecking to not have a cell phone to connect. I flashed back to a date in high school, before cell phones, that we both arrived early and thinking we beat the other grabbed a table... on opposite sides of the restaurant... so I was thrilled this was not one of those situations since I couldn't just pop home if we didn't connect.

Since Raj had been traveling Italy for the last 10 days, I took his lead. Stopped at a tourism kiosk that I would have assumed only sold tourist trap tickets and picked up four-day public transit tickets and a small map, then hit the ATM for euros.

I read beforehand that credit cards aren't accepted everywhere and the transaction fees can get quite high. Cash is king. But not cash you bring with you. Cash from an ATM is ideal for the least amount of fees.

With the help of several people along the way, we navigated the bus, metro, and neighborhood to our hostel.

Rodamón Barcelona Hostel
Còrsega 302, 08008 Barcelona




This hostel spoiled us. Spacious private bunks with curtains. So clean. Nice bathroom, kitchen space, amazing patio space, self-serve laundry (3€ to wash, 1€ soap, 2€ dry or 0€ sun).

My biggest worry about this trip wasn't the language barrier, the lack of planning, or how much I can't really afford this trip at the moment... Those things work themselves out. My biggest worry was Raj's travel style and not knowing what that was. Travel is the ultimate test of friendships/relationships. I've gone around India, Michigan, and New Orleans with Raj, but this was the first time we would be one-on-one for an extended period.

When we got to the hostel, all my worries melted when he said, "you go get lunch... I will nap."

And that's pretty much how the trip has been so far. I can do my thing while he does his. If he wants to sleep, I feel no guilt or worry about leaving to explore the neighborhood or grab a beer on my own. He isn't rushing to see every possible site... If anything, I might be the one pushing him so hopefully I'm not wearing him out or driving him crazy.

That night, Raj went to bed early so I found a really cool little bar called The Old Fashion. They were playing Billie Holiday and the bar tenders put on quite the performance. Even the napkin delivery involved some twirling and spinning.

I heard before I left that Spain is known for the night life. Dinner isn't until 9 or so, prime tv doesn't start until midnight, and the streets fill with people from children on up after night falls.

Barcelona? Not so much.

I was one of eight in the bar. All my hostel roomies, including Raj, were in bed by 10. So it was just me. Roaming the streets of Barcelona. At first it was lonely. Almost painfully lonely... Not sleeping on the plane didn't help my emotional state, but then I had my usual evening text chat with my friend Caitlin, had a drink, struck up a conversation with fellow travelers and started to enjoy my solo evenings.

The air was cool, yet humid. The streets were quiet. The architecture was spectacular. And even though it's the biggest pick pocketing area in the world - I felt safe.

Than again, I use common sense as well. Did not have anything in my pockets, my purse was in front of me, if I listened to a podcast it was in one ear, and I was alert to my surroundings.

No worries.

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Photos

View from the Plane
So many mountains flying over Spain...

Hostel
Private bunks

The Old Fashion - bar
I rode the Midnight Express... ridiculously good cocktail