Traveling on no sleep is starting to no longer faze me. After an hour cat nap, Jenna and I met in the lobby to head to Spain. We stopped at the hostel down the road to print off our boarding passes, and then began the slew of public transportation. A London night bus to Baker Street, to catch another bus to Luton Airport where we were scheduled to fly to Spain. Jenna was puking in the alley while waiting for bus number two, making the journey all the more fun.
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| on the beach |
We arrived at the airport slightly frazzled, got our boarding passes stamped, walked through the airport, waiting in line for security, and they scanned out passes as we were about to continue, there was an odd beeping noise. We were stopped. We had the wrong boarding passes. The ones in our hands were for the return trip from Spain to London. Now panicked, we half ran half jogged back to the check in desk, where the representative told us she should have checked more carefully, and it would now cost us FORTY POUNDS (approx. 65 DOLLARS) to reprint our correct boarding passes. Outraged, but left with no other choice, we were then directed to another line to pay.
With time ticking, we needed to pay this ridiculous fee, get out new boarding passes stamped from a different line, race through the airport, wait again at security, get through security, run to the correct terminal and make our plane. Now, legitimately worried we might miss our flight, and be charged an additional 100 pound fee (165 dollars). We begged people to let us cut them in line. Now sprinting through the airport with the correct documents, we made it to security.
Of course, the gate we need to go to is the furthest from where we are. We are now full out running through the airport when my backpack rips open and all of my belongings spill everywhere. Sometimes people really give me hope. With my stuff everywhere, and clearly in a hurry, people quickly helped me gather my things and I shoved them back into my backpack while running. Now I’m carrying my backpack because it was packed so tightly I can’t re zip it without stopping. We finally make it to our plane panting and sweating, but we are on our way to Spain!
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| the market |
Absolutely exhausted from our lovely run through the airport and going on about an hour of sleep, we are ready to sleep the whole way there. I put my headphones on, and get ready to sleep. Unfortunately the group of ten, 30-45 year old men on some type of guy’s trip who are already drunk at eight o’clock in the morning are screaming to each other. I can hear every word of their conversation with my headphones on. Awesome. We are sleep deprived, hungry, and cranky, and these guys aren’t helping. Finally the girl next to us asks them politely to keep it down. It works for about thirty seconds and the noise starts up again. She asks again, and the men start cussing her out. Jenna and I back her up saying they are being rude, disrespectful, and inconsiderate. The plane lands, and we still haven’t slept.
Too excited to care about our lack of sleep, we are ecstatic to be in the warmth of the sun. We buy our bus tickets to Barcelona, and an hour and a half later we depart. Ravenously hungry, but extremely content, I board with a smile. We arrive in Barcelona, and walk through the city and make our way to a café for lunch. After a good meal and learning a few new words in Spanish, we head to our hotel.
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| our wonderful view |
Located right in the middle of La Rambla our room was like a Cinderella room. Ridiculously tiny and when you opened the window you saw a creepy old back alley. Still too excited to care, we unpacked and went out in our swimsuits and dresses. We saw the ancient Roman defense walls throughout the city, and walked through this amazing market. Everything you can imagine was there-fresh produce, meat, una banderia; it was hands down my favorite part of the entire city.
We bought some fresh pineapple and watermelon to eat on the walk to the beach. We meandered past the beautiful sailboats, and the street performers dressed like statues. I was craving a pina colada, and vowed to have one before I left Spain. We laid out on the beach all day, and at five we made our way back to the hotel. Showered, and freshened up, we walked around La Rambla, taking it all in. There were these amazing breakdancers on the street who were not only incredibly well built, but phenomenal dancers. We watched their routine two or three times before we moved on. We settled on the Hard Rock Café for dinner mainly because we were extremely hungry, and didn’t want to wander around more trying to find a more local place for dinner. I ordered my pina colada, and settled on fajitas for dinner, which was excellent.
Exhausted we walked back to the hotel and crashed. We woke up still tired, but determined to do some sight seeing, we headed out. We saw two different gothic cathedrals, and visited the market again for some fresh fruit. Jenna already looked like a lobster so we bought some sunscreen too. As we walked around we saw some really good musicians and live bands playing. The rest of the afternoon was spent lying on the beach, soaking up the sun, and just loving life!
The people watching was great too. We saw a guy practicing his juggling skills on the beach. There were a group of older ladies laying out topless who thought they were lookin good. We were a little hungry and decided tapas would be a good choice for an evening snack. I even tried the fish kind and liked them!
Our big splurge for the trip was a dinner and a show to see the flamenco dancers. It cost us a wooping forty five euros each, (65 dollars). We got dressed up in the nicest clothes we brought with us, and headed across town.
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| tuna salad |
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| paella mariscos |
We arrived and were seated; upon arrival we were given a pitcher of sangria to share. We chatted and enjoyed our drink, and the salad was served. Covered in tuna. I hate tuna. Also most seafood. Tuna isn’t something you can just pick out either, the lettuce soaks up the juice and the taste is on everything. I tried picking at it, but gave up. I pushed my salad to the side, comforting myself with the thought of authentic paella that was to come.
There are two different kinds of paella. Paella mariscos which is the seafood version, and paella vallencia, the type that has chicken in it. Obviously, I like the kind with chicken. On the advertisement we saw before we booked this night, it did not specify which type of paella would be served, so I (dumbly) assumed we would have an option. We didn’t. Paella mariscos was served with clams, lobster claws and all. I had a few bites of rice. The dancing aspect of the show was incredible. It reminded me of stepping only with latin influences. Five thirty am comes awfully early, and so we fell asleep early to catch our bus to the airport. We checked in and everything went smoothly. Thank God.
