Sunday, February 14, 2010

Adrienne Rebecca Barcelona

I don't even know how to start telling the story of my first intra-Europe traveling experience. But I guess it started in Bratislava, Slovakia. Its about under 50miles from Vienna, possibly the two closest capitals in the world. And worlds apart. Slovakia is the West Virginia of Europe. Its underdeveloped, gritty, Soviet- esque, with a clear evidence of its Communist history. However the Bratislava airport has Ryanair flights to a variety of destinations, and Barcelona is one of them. After a train, and a bus, we arrived at the airport very early. Our flight was at 6:30 and only 10 minutes before boarding did we learn that our flight was delayed until 10:30, then 11:55, then 12:55. Becca and I were fighting boredom with only a very expensive British Vogue, until we made friends with some Slovakians and a Turk. We learned some dirty words in Slovakian and passed the time until we finally got to board at nearly 1 am. Oh the joys of budget air travel. Or just air travel in general. We were supposed to spend the night in Girona, the closest town to the airport, but we couldn't get a hold of the hostel. So at 3:30 am in Girona, we made a split second decision to hop the very last bus going into Barcelona and go to our hostel there, luckily they had a room and 24 hour reception.

Neither of us expected to have culture shock, especially having just gotten over culture shock. We both wondered, why did we leave Vienna again? Neither of us speak Spanish or Catalan. Neither of us had ever traveled alone. Yikes.

We got about 5 hours of sleep before we had to check out of our room and into our original room. When we woke up the sun was shining and there was not a cloud in the sky. We forgot we were tired and headed toward the beach. It was barely 60 degrees, but we both live by the ocean, and planned to see the Mediterranean. I didn't realize just how much I had missed the ocean. We spent the entire afternoon sitting on the beach, listening to street music, looking at the beach, putting our toes in the water. that was followed by 14 hours of glorious sleep.



The next day was rainy, but we spent all afternoon at the Sagrada Familia, looking inside, taking pictures, and looking in the museum. We had a long 3 course meal at a vegetarian resturant. The glorious thing about eating in Barcelona is that many restaurants will have a fixed price menu for around 10 Euros for 3 courses. So we had one huge meal a day, and used the hostels kitchen for everything else.


Then we ended up going to the opera house, Gran Theatre Liceu to see about tickets for Tristan und Isolde, which we knew was playing with Deborah Voigt. I had already seen it at the Met, but Becca had never seen it. the cheapest seats were near the ceiling and you could either hang over the side and see the tops of the singers heads, of watch on a tv screen. But for less than 5 Euros, it seemed like a good way to spend 5 hours out of the rain. We bought candy from a candy shop that we often passed and ogled at near our hostel, so we could stay awake. Though it was nice to have the tv screen to see the whole Guadi- like set, by the last act, I found that hanging over the railing and looking directly down at the singers was like being an angel looking down on them. The ending was stunning.


The next day was even more rainy, sadly, but we conquered the Museo Picasso, which included a strange exhibit of Japanese erotica. Then we did our big three course meal at this tiny place in the Gothic quarter. With the TV in the restaurant playing what can only be described as Spanish Jerry Springer, the one waitress was having a shouting match with what we thought was a man in the back. Five minutes later, a huge woman came out and continued the shouting. It was hilarious. But the Catalan sausage was delicious.



We conquered the Cathedral next, which was gorgeous. Catholic countries have the best churches.


Later that night we went out for Sangria and tapas with our Argentinian roommates in the hostel. After we went to an English bar, full of very drunk British girls. We celebrated my birthday early with tequila shots and such.



Ironically, the next day we planned to go climb a mountain to see a monestary, about an hour away from Barcelona. We got off the train in a tiny sleepy Spanish town and by this time, we were thrilled that the sun was shining. The views were beautiful, and we could see the snow-capped Pyrenees in the distance. The climb was difficult when we got to some scarrily steep stairs. To make it more interesting, there was ice in the shade.

The site of the monestary was more touristy than we expected, most people took the tram up hte back of the mountain, we never came across any other hikers. The church was beautiful, but it was COLD and windy up there. We climbed back down after some snacks and pictures. I haven't been that sore in a while.

Our last goal: Paella. When we got of at our metro stop at La Ramblas, we ran toward the first resturant that advertised it. It was another 3 course meal for 12 Euros. It was amazing.


The next day we had a flight out at 1 in the afternoon. It was also my birthday. So we got up early to go see the sunrise at the beach. So this was how I greeted the beginning of my 22nd year of exisentance.

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