When traveling in hostels, you become an expert in working with what you've got. The showers have a button you push and every thirty seconds the water flow stops. You learn to wash your hair quickly and as the week goes on, you stop shaving all together. It's entirely way too time consuming to have to hit the button that many times just to have smooth legs. You let your hair air dry instead of running downstairs to put a deposit on a hair dryer. Wrinkles on your clothes become part of your new look and you don't wear jewelry because it makes you a target to rob.
I reach under my pillow, grab my locker key, throw on some clothes and head to the bike tour Massar recommended. I was really looking forward to this today. There was still so much of Barcelona I haven't seen. Also, since I moved to California, I have really come to love riding bikes. It's not something I ever did in Ohio, but in San Diego, everyone rides their beach cruisers down the boardwalk.
I grabbed two pieces of toast and a cappuccino for breakfast and hurried down the street. I only had five minutes until the tour and I didn't know exactly how to get there. I used my map and followed the street signs until I reached the shop. I may have asked two people along the way, but I did most of the work myself.
There was only one other rider signed up for the morning tour, Marcell. Marcell was on the walking tour yesterday, an Australian, traveling on his own. He kept finding reasons to ask me questions on that tour and I wasn't interested. My mind was still on Shawn and the amazing night we had together. Marcell had been really nice and talked about his travels around the world, but I had been more focused on hearing about St Jordi day and the meaning behind Paella.
Now I'm walking toward him as he is putting his kick stand down to greet me. A big grin grew on his face as he asked if I too was joining the bike tour. I was hoping there would be more people, Marcell would treat this like a date.
Mark, our tour guide rolled my bike from out of the shop and announced that it would be just the three of us today. Marcell smiled and inside I groaned. This should be interesting.
I started biking down the street and I thought about the difference between these two scenarios. Was I in love with the story of Shawn? Or was it fate to run into each other again that night? I had met Shawn for only five minutes and was so excited to run into him later at Yellow. Here I had been on a three hour walking tour with an attractive Australian, Marcell and then ran into him randomly the very next day to spend another four hours biking....and I could care less. This answered my question. Running into Marcell again could have very well been a love story, but the point is, it was not. There was no chemistry, it was not fate and he was no Shawn.
I shook the flashbacks of Shawn and I out of my head and focused on the tour. I was on this ride to see Goudi and beaches, It was hard to not think about Shawn. I wished I had one more day in Rome with him but now I was in Barcelona so peddled faster to catch up with Mark and Marcell.
Mark stopped at the first landmark, the Christopher Columbus Statue. He told us that Columbus discovered America and brought back tomatoes, potatoes and Syphilis. He told us if your boyfriend gives you Syphilis, don't blame him, blame it on Christopher Columbus. I let out a laugh, I had not heard that one and thought he was joking. The remainder if the tour was like this. Mark would tell us random facts about the city in a sarcastic manner. I was glad because don't really enjoy hearing all the boring facts.
We rode along the beach and Mark pulled off at a beach bar and we all stopped for cappuccinos. We sat and got to know each other better. Mark was an Aussie that came to visit Barcelona four years ago and never left. I admired him and his sense of adventure. He pointed out all the palm trees along the beach and the sand. He told us that this was actually a man made beach and the palm trees were actually brought in from Hawaii. In 1992, Barcelona prepared for The Olympics and gave the city a face lift. It was so crazy to think this was all fake. It was so beautiful and only twenty years ago, it looked completely different.
We jumped back on our cruisers and biked down the harbor and through the busy streets of Barcelona. Mark took us to the stop my mom said I must see, Sagrada Familia. It truly was a sight to see. Mark told us the story of Goudi but the hip version. He told us that Goudi was a rule breaker and a druggy. He talked about Goudi like he was a friend of his in high school. He told us about his life, greatest work and how he got hit by a tram when crossing the street in Barcelona and died. It was quite the story. I was glad Mark was the one telling me this because he explained it in a way where you could actually picture all the events. Mark told us to take twenty minutes to ourselves and walk around. I walked around the entire exterior of the building mesmerized.
When we met back up, Mark clapped his hands together and told us it was time for tapas and sangria. He led us down the street to a little pub. We ordered olives, prosciutto, jamon and bread. We drank glasses of Sangria and I asked Mark about all the places he has traveled to. Mark gave me a lot of ideas on how to wrap up my remaining last two days in the city and wrote down a really good hostel to stay in my last night in Barcelona. I was not able to book a full week at Sun and Moon Hostel. Now, a little tipsy we jumped back on our bikes and headed to our next stop The Arc De Triomf. Mark told us there were actually twenty four of them in the world.
Riding around the city drunk on sangria may not have been the smartest thing, but it was definitely one of the most fun things to do. We passed more of Goudi's buildings and I got lost in a moment. I couldn't believe all the amazing things I was seeing in Spain. The buildings, the beaches, the streets. I sped up to catch up with the boys and it reminded me of riding my bike when I was a little girl. Growing up in Ohio in the summers, I would ride my bike up and down my street passing corn fields and pine trees. I would bike day dreaming what my life would be like when I got older. Now here I am twenty years later, biking through the streets in Spain. I smiled and felt good. I had made my dreams come true and I wasn't done yet. Who knew what was still to come. In this moment, I didn't care. At this point, I would be fine getting hit by a tram like Goudi and because I would die happy. I completed my dream to move to California, explored through Europe and found my way back to me again.
We ended our bike tour at the Parc De La Ciutadella. It was a beautiful park and had a fountain that reminded me of The Trevi in Rome. We parked our bikes and walked around. I loved this park and decided I would come back tomorrow and write the last part of my journal here. It was like the central park of Barcelona.
After we returned our bikes, I headed back to my hostel to get ready for my cooking class. I would be meeting Darko and Bahareh, which I was excited about. When I got back to my room, the Americans were gone and I was greeted by three French men. They didn't speak much English but talked in very basic English for a little while.
I jumped in the shower and after hitting the button a few times, I figured that amount of time in the shower was plenty. I wondered when I got back to my apartment in San Diego if I would take shorter showers now. It would be so weird to sleep in a room that didn't have eight people crammed in every corner and to not have to lock up my belongings every day.
I walked to the cooking class and Darko and Bahareh were waiting for me with espressos. We caught each other up on our days and they asked I had heard from Shawn. They live in Toronto as well so were crossing their fingers I would see him again, so that I would have an excuse to visit them.
The chef greeted us and led the group of twenty people to the market. He took us to each counter and explained which kind of squid, clams, jamon and vegetables we would be adding to our Paella.
He guided us to the bar and into the back to a long formal dining room table with candles in the center. The servers placed pitchers of Sangria and tapas in front of us to munch on while we all became acquainted. The sangria was very strong so it wasn't very hard for anyone. The chef came back out and began the lesson in a gigantic skillet. It talked us through each step and it was such a fun experience. After all the ingredients were combined and simmering, he asked for two volunteers to learn how to make Sangria for the group. I raised my hand and was brought behind the bar as everyone watched. He handed me each bottle and demonstrated how much wine, rum, triple sec and brandy to pour into the pitcher. Each time I had a heavier pour them him and everyone laughed. He would demonstrate a third of a pour and I would pour double. After we made three pitchers everyone wanted my pitcher but I guided it over to the people on my end of the long table. I believe we got a little more tipsy then the rest of the group.
Shortly after, our paella was ready and they served each of us a huge plate. The food was very flavorful and I truly enjoyed my first Spanish cooking class.
That night, I retired early. I had been drinking Sangria all day so made my way back up to my hostel. My bed was the only bunk in front of a window and I discovered a sliding door so opened it and climbed out into a little balcony that was barred off so you could not fall out. I sat out on my balcony and listened to my iPod as I admired the city.
My trip was coming to an end soon but I enjoyed every second. In Italy, I learned more through my experiences with people and the relationships I established. In Spain, I learned more about the culture and the history. Both countries equally inspired me and left me with a burning desire to continue to travel the world.