Right now I’m sitting in our hostel waiting for my husband to wake up. This is a change, since he’s always up way before me. He’s one of those people that gets up when the light is just about to peek over the horizon. Not me. I’m the complete opposite, so this is kind of of strange to me. No matter. It’s almost 9:30 am, and we need to get going.
Joe and I took the red-eye from Atlanta to Barcelona on Tuesday night and got here around 9 am yesterday. Thankfully, is was uneventful. We didn’t have any bags to check, so it made things easier. When we got to the airport in Barcelona, we had to navigate our way to the hostel we booked, which meant: finding the right bus that took us to the metro, getting the tickets, then finding our way to the correct line to the correct stop, then finding our way to the correct street, to the correct door. We did get turned around, but we found it easier than I thought we would.
After checking in to the hostel, we made our way to Las Ramblas (the main pedestrian street) where we were entertained by living sculptures, animals, and artists. After walking around a bit, we decided to do something I promised myself I would not do: go back and take a nap.
After sleeping for 4 hrs (we neglected to take an alarm clock), we were wakened by what I thought was the building crashing down around us. Turns out, the hostel was having some work done on it and the sound I was hearing was a drill in the next room. We got up and walked around some more.
We had dinner at a tiny little place off Las Ramblas that was basically a glorified street stall. We split a lamb pita that was to die for. We walked by the market and got some fresh fruit to take back with us to the hostel and decided to stay in for the remainder of the evening. After all, we hadn’t slept in two days.
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