Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
We again arrive in Barcelona after our all-nighter in Ibiza, and she welcomes us back like a woman scorned.
We rocked up at Ibiza airport feeling the sleep deprivation bigtime.The queues seem a mile long, our eyes are bloodshot. Mark pushes me around on the luggage trolley like a child. We've partied like 18 year olds and now we are suffering like 80 year olds. No regrets! Ok right now, maybe a little regret. We hardly speak to each other, all we can do is stare and sigh and whimper.
We catch a quick nap on the plane ride home but are awoken not long before landing by the worst turbulance I have ever experienced. We are flying through a storm, lightning flashes around us. Hola Barcelona, I think I just did a little poo in my pants. I think I'm gonna need that paper bag, too. It's the kind of flight that causes the whole plane to burst into manic applause when we touch down safely on the slick runway.
Our baggage is delayed. We wait, and wait, and whimper. When our bags arrive, mine feels like its been dropped in a puddle, or quite possibly a lake. We catch the aerobus, I sleep again, sort of. It's nearly 2pm when we finally arrive at La Placa Catalunya. Kill me now. It's still pouring rain and I trudge behind mark, head down, slipping on the pavement. I lose concentration for a second and I'm sliding, I land hard on my knee, try to recover then topple sideways as the weight of my bag pulls me over. People gasp, but don't move to help. I look like a turtle. And not the mutant ninja kind - just a ridiculous, flailing turtle. I'm ready to cry. Mark realises what's happened and helps me up, and on we trudge.
We haven't eaten a proper meal since dinner, so when the golden arches come into sight it's like heavens glow. It's packed and we eat awkwardly in the corner with our bags but it is so so good. We are finally on the home stretch, just a couple blocks to go - it feels like the longest walk of my life. Turns out the hostel price went up as of today, about 15 euro extra a night. Ouch. Who cares...these bunk beds have never looked or felt so fine. Ooohhhh yeah.
Worst. Transit. Ever.
We have a day's crossover with Ben and Gem and have arranged to meet them tonight at our new local, Ryan's. It's the Eurocup 2012 football final, Spain vs Italy - it's gonna be a big one. So after about 4 hours sleep we get up again feeling surprisingly well rested, and head to the pub. 30 minutes before kickoff and the place is packed, I sit on a table so I can see - prime position. Ben and Gem don't show..it's only later that we find out there are 3 pubs called Ryan's in Barcelona and they are at another one..we should have planned that a little better! A shame, but we have a great time anyway. The rain has stopped, Barcelona is our best friend again and it's a phenomenal game. Spain is all over it, kicking the first goal in the first 15 minutes, and eventually humiliating Italy with a 4-0 victory.
Barcelona goes nuts.
We head to La Ramblas to check out the party. People hang out of cars with horns blaring and flags waving. The crowd is singing and dancing "Ole Ole.." "Viva Espana, Viva Espana!", bongo drums are playing, airhorns are blasting next to our ears. The streets are littered with Estrella beer cans. People climb up light poles and onto the roofs of shop fronts and kiosks. One guy climbs taller than all the rest and sets fire to an Italian jersey (hrmmm ease up buddy, sportsmanship please!), while another mounts a traffic light and rides it like a horse. Yeeeehah. It sways wildly and when we return the following morning, the traffic light is no more.
It's an epic party. Surprisingly we see only 2 polizia, but the crowd is a happy one and there's no trouble. Would never happen in Australia! We hang around for a bit and then finally concede defeat to the sleep fairy.
For some insane reason, we get up early the following morning. We're excited to be back in beautiful Barcelona and don't want to miss a second.
So, we head to Parc Guell, another of Gaudi's creations. The Guell family intended the space to be a housing estate with recreational parkland for some of Barcelona's wealthier families, and Gaudi was given free reign. The result is a huuuuuge and funky park full of mosaic structures and rocky creations, with a few gingerbread-like houses scattered around it. The houses actually didn't prove too popular at the time, but the park now pulls in millions of visitors. It's very cool and we spend a happy couple of hours there, but we are still sleep deprived, it's hot and pretty soon we are grumpy and snapping at each other.
We head home to the hostel and end up wasting the rest of the afternoon there. I mope in the room while Mark goes upstairs for Monday Mojitos. I'm completely rundown and irrational, and at that moment I really miss home. At the same time I'm furious with myself...how on earth could I have the blues in Barcelona, the Barcelona blues. I love this place, I know that I do. The more pressure I put on myself to cheer up, relax, have fun - the worse I feel.
Just sleep babe, says Mark.
I don't wake up for nearly 14 hours, but when I do, I am feeling 100% and finally ready to fully reacquaint with the lovely Barcelona. In the words of the wise Mr Speedy Gonzales (ok ok so he's Mexican not Spanish, but just roll with it)
Ándele! Ándele! Arriba! Arriba! Epa! Epa! Epa! Yeeeeeehaw!
To be continued ...
- comments
Krissy I loved the Parc Guell! My favourite part of Barcelona soo coolio mcdoolio!