I'm sitting outside the train station, perched on the large cement base of a lamp post. I'm starting to get annoyed with the men of Spain. Two women with blond hair and light skin seem to somewhat of an oddity around here, and the men have no problem expressing this fact. Everyone stares at us. Some call us "Barbie dolls." Others call out things in Spanish that Becky has too much class to translate. My frustration may also because of all the problems we have had with the train station here. It is deceptively gorgeous, with intricate designs on the ceramic tiled walls. Unfortunately, the woman at the information desk is the gatekeeper of hell. Yesterday, she told us that there weren't any trains departing for Sevilla until 8am the following morning. We were disappointed that we wouldn't get to go to Sevilla right away, but we decided to make the best of it and find a hostel and catch the first train out. We had trouble with our metro and train tickets when we were trying to get to the beach. Luckily, this really friendly guy helped us figure out the switch, and warned us about getting burnt at the beach and told us about the night life here. We were definitely thrilled by this random act of kindness. Another random act of kindness was when we were trying to find our hostel. We'd read about a good one in our travel guide, and couldn't quite figure out the map, so we stopped at an outdoor restaurant to ask the waiter for directions. He was giving us directions, but it was obvious that he wasn't sure if it was right. So this other waiter walks up, saying, "No, no, no!" And then he gave us perfect directions right to the hostel. The hostel was actually really great. It's called "Home: Backpackers Youth Hostel." It was only 17 euros a night and the walls were all brightly painted. There were tile mosaics in the bathrooms and the common area had leather furniture, computers, and a nice stereo system. Besides being a little out of the way, it was wonderful. So after a good night's rest, we hauled ass this morning and made it to the station by 7:45am, only to find out that the next train doesn't depart until 11:30am. So now, beside me on this post is my wet laundry, drying in the sun. Since we had all this extra time, we decided to wash our clothes in the bathroom sink. It was a pretty funny experience, despite our frustration. We received all sorts of great looks from the other women that came into the bathroom. I can't believe I'm going to say this, but from all the trouble we've had here, we are actually anxiously awaiting out 8 hour train ride. We are looking forward to wasting our entire day just so we can get out of here.