EuroTrip Day 1: Barcelona
14 May
It’s 7:30 AM. I’m sitting in the common room of our hostel, eating Nutella on toast. Well, their version of Nutella at least.
24 hours ago, I was just waking up with a dull hangover, after a night out with my trip-mates and 50 other hostellers.
Rewind.
We had finangled our way onto the train, after being bussed from terminal to terminal at the airport, looking for the train station. Our luggages were huge and awkward, so we had to take up six seats for the four of us. Vin Diesel asked for some Spanish lessons during the ride, and I obliged, teaching him the most important phrase of the trip: ¿Dónde está el baño? (Where is the bathroom?)
The lady beside us giggled as she watched our exchange. Finally, when she could hold it in no longer, she joined our conversation. She didn’t speak English, so I was the only one who could talk to her, but I quickly realized that my Spanish was in bad shape. We were getting off at the same stop, so she led us out of the subway station and gave us directions to our hostel. It would be a 10-minute walk, she said. But with our luggages, it took closer to 20. By the time we arrived at the hostel, my hand had blisters from dragging my suitcase. It was appallingly evident that we had overpacked. Our heavy luggages were going to be our Achilles Heel on this trip, no doubt about it. Already, in my mind, I was making an inventory of everything I’d brought and trying to figure out what I could throw away. But I could part with little. Most of it were clothes, and I wanted to save my clothes for Paris, our last stop. So, for the time being, I will just have to try to survive on this trip with a 50 lb suitcase that I can’t even get up the stairs. Thank god for male trip-mates.
After arriving at the hostel, we unpacked as we waited for our two other friends to arrive. Soon we were joined by IndianPrincess and Jack Sparrow. IndianPrincess was a classmate of ours who was on exchange in Manchester this semester. She was staying with us for two days in Barcelona, because she still had classes. Jack Sparrow was from University Town with us, but because he had joined our trip last minute, he had gotten a separate flight two days earlier, so he was already in Barcelona.
We went for a walk down Passeo de Gracia to Placa Catalunya, then to Las Ramblas. We decided to go to a tapas restaurant for dinner, which I had found online (based on reviews) before we left. We walked through the winding alleys of Barri Gothic, with vertical buildings rising up on all sides, each with intricate balconies protruding from thousand-year-old stone walls. Each alley was as enchanting as the last.
The air was humid and sweet; we often reminded ourselves to take deep breaths of the Barcelonian air, which we described as the sweet smell of Spanish cologne of beautiful Spanish men. After several twists and turns, we discovered the restaurant wasn’t where it was supposed to be. I was the only one who spoke Spanish in our group, so I used my rough Spanish to ask for directions and eventually found our way tone off a side street of Ave del Portal de l’Angel.
Tapas were decent but relatively expensive. We realized it was a mistake to find a restaurant in such a touristy location, everyone else eating there were also tourists who spoke no Spanish (although there was only one server in the restaurant who spoke any English).
We went to a grocery store after dinner to pick up some food for the next day. We were all shocked to discover that alcohol was (far) cheaper than water! The cheapest bottle of wine we saw was only 0.82 Euros! The 2 Euro bottles we got would be considered mid-level wines in Canada, and definitely passable for our pre-drinking purposes. We bought 9 bottles for the six of us, thinking it would last us two nights. We were clearly under-estimating our drinking abilities. A few hours later, we were opening our seventh bottle and all quite drunk.
That night, we went out with the hostel. They took us to a hole-in-the-wall bar and somehow managed to fit all 50 of us in (we were joined by a group from their sister hostel). Time works differently in Barcelona (Spain? All of Europe?), as I’ve come to realize. Peak dinner hours are around 9 pm, and people don’t go out to clubs until 1 am. We were pre-drinking from 9pm to 11:30pm at the hostel, then stayed at the tiny bar from 12 till 1am before walking to the club.
The dance club was packed and we ran into a friend of ours from school. At one point during the night, Jasmine started dancing with a French dude, leaving me all alone. As I turned to look around, I realized all my other companions were dancing with someone as well. I felt awkward and extraneous on the dance floor. This would have been one of those moments where I could have gone into the bathroom to cry, if I were melodramatic. What I can tell you was that I wasn’t happy to be stranded on the dance floor of an anonymous club in a city I’d been in for less than 24 hours, an ocean away from home and any semblance of familiarity.
If this was a club back home, I would have just called a cab and gone home. But I didn’t remember the hostel’s address. I didn’t even know the closest intersection. All I knew was that this most definitely wasn’t home.
I stuck it out for another hour, after which I told my companions I wanted to leave. Most of them weren’t ready to leave yet, but because no one wanted to be left behind in a club in Barcelona (we had no idea where we were because we had just followed the leader – drunk – to walk there), we all ended up leaving together. It was a 20-minute walk back to the hostel, but I was just glad someone knew the way.
Our first day in Barcelona was incredibly long. When people I’d met asked me when I arrived, they were all surprised to hear “Today!”
“So, today is your first day in Europe?” They’d follow-up, wide-eyed.
“Yes!” I’d reply, equally wide-eyed.
Each time, I could not believe that less than 24 hours ago, I’d been in Toronto, doing absolutely nothing, and now I was chatting up some Australians, Germans, and Dutch boys in a random bar in Barcelona.
So jealous still! The street photograph is so beautiful, and the food looks absolutely divine!
I already have HUNDREDS of pictures of Barcelona streets, but unfortunately I couldn’t possibly upload even half of them (hostel wifi is quite slow). So I had to pick one – this was the first to stand out. I definitely have tons more gorgeous ones, will pick some out later!
I love their architecture. It makes your pictures look like they were taken with a weird lens, or like something out of a Dr Seuss book.
Also I’m amazed that you guys had the energy for a crazy night out after traveling so far. I cross more than two time zones and I’m ready to pass out!
We were all ready to pass out to be honest, but we made a pact of “no siestas” so we stayed up. I was not really in the mood for a crazy night though, I definitely would have gone back to the hostel a lot earlier if I could have.
Ah, I wanted to go to a Barcelona club too, but I wouldn’t have paid 20 euros for the entrance. I did walk through Barcelona at night. It’s just so beautiful at night.
The bouncer was trying to get us in for free, but he said only the girls would be able to get in free. And by the time we were ready to leave the bar, it was 2:30am, and at that point he said there was no way anyone could get in free.
I can’t believe club entrance fees are so high! I would have thought they’d set it low to attract more people to go in and by drinks!
After all that travelling it’s easy to understand why people just sleep the first night but it’s good to make the most of it if you can, and it sounds like you certainly did!
Ahhh! So excited that your Eurotrip has started!!!! Isn’t Barcelona fabulous? I haven’t been there myself but my friends on exchange LOVE that alcohol is cheaper than water and that dinner and clubbing start so late!!!!
On another note, I HATE when I get left alone on the dance floor and everyone gets busy with someone or the other – it’s so awkward – lol. Gawd, I had that happen to me for a long while…and I was underdressed, not looking my hottest so I didn’t even grab some random to dance with – never letting that happen again. Butttt it happens to the best of us, it’s just one of those things.
The picture of the street – breathtaking!!
I know, I miss Barcelona already and it’s only been 3 days since we left.
But to be honest, I’m not that into Spanish guys if they’re not into me. I am getting way more interest from French guys and I’m loving the attention.
soooooo jealous! I love Spain – it’s been years since I’ve been there but I would love to go back. I’ve never been to Barcelona though.
I would make myself re-learn Spanish before I would ever go back! I hated feeling stupid when I couldn’t speak the language well.
Can’t wait to hear more about your trip! Be sure to post lots of pictures :)
Barcelona is quite modern actually, moreso than I expected. Only Barri Gothic has the narrow streets and stone walkways like I imagined. I wish more of Barcelona was “historical” – but then again, I did enjoy the modern infrastructure that made it so convenient for us to travel around the city (a.k.a. the subway).
My Spanish was pretty poor but I remembered it relateively quickly – vocab was a problem, and my pronounciation was more Central/South American than Spain because of my Spanish teachers’ origins.
I feel pretty stupid in Italy right now, I can only say a few words of Italian. But I am determined to change that soon.