So Woody Allen Did Not Direct My Trip To Barcelona

All week in the run-up to my weekend in Barcelona, I had been envisioning it like a sequel to Vicky Cristina Barcelona. So if you will, let’s set the mood. Press play:

Suffice to say, it wasn’t the gauzy romantic haze of Allen’s vision. But we still had a cracking time and it’s a very important staple of our tour of Spain.

It all kicked off on Thursday night at 11pm, when we set off on the 12 hour coach journey through the night. We stopped twice, had an issue with ordering tea and Soraya got in a fight with the ‘waiter’. What a surprise. An attempt to order a nice cup of tea with milk (té con leche) became an instant disaster when instead of milky tea, Soraya and Jayne got black tea with a side of coffee and milk (café con leche). I assumed that by the time they had corrected the ‘waiter’, I’d have no issues getting exactly what I wanted: tea and water and milk. I was incredibly specific as well: “Té con agua y leche.” Instead, I received a cup of warm milk and a teabag.

No baby girl, no.

We were the last back onto the coach, mainly owing to Soraya’s insistence to the ‘waiter’ that what she ordered was tea with milk and he was wrong. Which he was.

We arrived in Barcelona at the prompt time of 10.15am and set out to make the most of the day. The hostel itself was far superior to the one in Valencia. Our room had two floors even. We shared with four Spanish girls who took the beds upstairs, whilst we had two bunk beds, the toilet and the shower downstairs. We’re still pondering why they wanted upstairs, when having the toilet right next to bed is the obvious better choice. And the shower was nicer than my shower in Granada.

Our first port of call for sightseeing was sightseeing the nearest Starbucks. Luckily for us, it happened to be right next to the Sagrada Familia (Gaudi’s Unfinished Cathedral) so we killed two birds with one stone really.

The Sagrada Familia was really a work of art, a beautiful vision in Gaudi’s infamous style. I think during this trip, I became quite good at pretending I knew what I was talking about in terms of art and architecture. Apparently there are plans to finish the building work by, I think, 2036 – but I think it would be a shame to finish it, because once that happens, it will be jut another cathedral, not Gaudi’s legacy.

We set off on a short walking tour of Barcelona’s answer to the Gherkin and attempted to find the Gaudi house, but failed. In the afternoon we went to Park Güell, which is famous for Gaudi’s architecture. We arrived to the park at 5pm to find tickets were 8€ but entry was free after 6.15. Time for an hour and a half wait then!

We saw the outside of Gaudi’s house in the park (not wanting to pay for the inside) and decided to settle ourselves for a wait. A wait in which we spotted something rather interesting.

Sitting across from us, with a drawing board and felt tip pens, a man was drawing us. Awkward. What then became even more awkward was when he showed us the results of his artwork. I had yellow hair with black highlights, a giant nose and saggy cheeks. Needless to say mate, don’t give up the day job.

Seriously.

The park itself was lovely (not worth 8€, because there’s actually not too much to see) and includes a giant gingerbread house and a lizard sculpture for which it was famous. I’m sure it’s beautiful in the sun – maybe that’s why it’s 8€ earlier in the day – but by half 6, the light wasn’t as great as it could’ve been.

We took a slow meander back to the hotel through Barcelona, which like any big city has many beautiful parts and many not so beautiful parts. Yet again, I thought to myself how glad I am to be in Granada, which is – like in Goldilocks – not too big, not too small, it’s just right.

We had a cute dinner at our fave all-you-can-eat buffet and went back to the hostel to get ready for the first night out.

We were one of a small number going out on the first night, though one forty-year-old man did take a shining to Soraya. La princesa Soraya. We also rapped the rap from ‘Wannabe’. Don’t ask. He snuck us onto the metro for free and got us into the club, where he apparently worked, for only 5€.

The club itself was really cool, right on the beach, and is apparently one of the best in Barcelona. However, we had peaked far too early and as even a shot was 5€, we weren’t buying any more drinks and left by half 4. We resolved to drink more the next night in order to have a better evening. More on the results of that experiment later.

Spoiler alert: this is not going to end well.

On Day 2 in Barcelona, the rain came down. Boy did it come down. Our first port of call was, surprisingly, Starbucks, where we hid from the bouncing rain and determined a plan of action. We decided getting a metro card was a good idea so that we could avoid being outside too much. After a drink each and some sushi from the shop next door, it had finally brightened up outside, so we ventured out onto the streets.

We saw the Gaudi house and museum (from the outside only, poor students can’t afford 20€ entrance) and then set off to find the Olympic Stadium. Despite it being – presumably – a big stadium, we didn’t manage to find it. But we did go on a cable car and saw the most beautiful views of all of Barcelona.

It dropped us off at the Port so we had a leisurely stroll around the Port to make our way to the famous La Ramblas. On the way we walked past Chantelle from ANTM, who is now a famous model in Spain due to her campaigns with Desigual. Not much to comment on her, except that she definitely thinks she’s superior to everyone else. But she’s not.

La Ramblas itself was a great street full of people and tourist market stalls and tapas places. But the real treat (apart from the Ham Experience Museum and the Erotic Museum) is the gigantic food market, where I think I would live if I was in Barcelona.  There was fruit, nuts, chocolate (too much chocolate), fish, meat, all together in the hustle and bustle of a brilliant covered market place. I treated myself to chocolate covered strawberries, because, well, necessary.

Following our ramble up the Ramblas, I arranged to meet up with Shira, which was so wonderful. They did tell us in our briefs to go and visit each other! We wandered round El Corte Ingles when the rain picked up again and had a yummy dinner in Plaza Real, which is really gorgeous. I kind of wish our plazas were a bit more spectacular: barely any of them are actually squares.

Shira dropped us off at the Metro and we returned to the hostel, fully intending to have a better night than the previous one. To ensure this, we decided it would be a good idea to buy small ‘airplane’ bottles of vodka and sneak them into the club in case the drinks were expensive. How wise of us.

And so, dressed to the nines, we began our adventure.

And that’s all I will say on the matter. I woke up with a Swiss man’s ID in my bag and without any remnants of the vodka I had taken in.

But the old mantra remains: You Only Get One Year Abroad. And from here on out, that night will never be mentioned again.

The next day we were all a little bit worse for wear.

Pretty accurate.

The only solution was… you guessed it, Starbucks. I drank my first ever latte and it didn’t help. I don’t think it was until 8 pm at night, 4 hours into our 12 hour coach ride back that I actually started to feel normal again.

So we returned to the hostel, got on the coach and returned to Granada. I was hoping to get some sleep, but apparently that was not on the agenda until the last hour of the journey. Needless to say, I’m pretty exhausted now, but grateful for a fab weekend in Barcelona.

Now there’s just a week left of classes before I make my return to England for Easter Break and a little birthday I’m having. This term has gone ridiculously quickly and when I come back I will have less than 3 months left in Granada. I feel like my year abroad is slipping away, which is why I need to make the most of it while I can.

Good job I’ve got that trip to Morocco booked then, eh?

Check.

 

And to conclude, a slideshow of pics from Barcelona.

Until next time xo

 

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