Only 1 Regret...

Frankly, I’ve had difficulties putting it all into words. Prior to my trip, Barcelona and the things I would do or see were all I could talk about (especially on cloudy days). But on my return I couldn’t find the words to do it justice, so I really didn’t say much (besides that the American dollar is a total joke). I cringe saying Great & Amazing because they don’t even come close to summarizing Barcelona for me. For a while now the city has been my mini escape when shit was hitting the fan, providing zen moments when I’d much rather be throwing a shoe at someone (hypothetically speaking). So drooling over this city for months prior and then coming face to face with all its grandeur was an emotional experience for me. And, I’m not necessarily a sappy chic. I’d much rather see Freddy Krueger snap someone’s spine and use it as dental floss than, watch Sandra Bullock conveniently trip and fall in the crotch of Mr. Right. It was truly beautiful and I loved Gaudi prior, but have an unhealthy obsession now.

 Some randomness: wine for breakfast, lunch, or dinner • no flesh! (I wore a skirt and boots one day and was looked at like a 2cent hooker) • the 60’s and over male crowd are horny, but harmless (I think I was even flattered at one point) • no one is from Barcelona • they really don’t “party” till 2am • no dancing in bars (I was reprimanded for this) • they love NYC • they are proud of “us” for voting Obama into office • they smoke like chimneys and have no qualms about blowing it in your face (hence the need for me to run to the pharmacy for sinus meds) • my broken Spanish got me by everywhere (Yes!) • time stands still for futbol • a croissant and café con leche is a typical breakfast • the chics wear tights with everything even shorts and sandals • no condiments (really no need) • oh and the American dollar is poo poo

At the end of the week, when I had accomplished all my intended pursuits, my sister and I did a bit of bar hopping. Not that we didn’t split bottles of wine every night, but I refused to be hungover for Gaudi... I do have to preface this with also being a little hopped up on sinus (so sexy) meds I was able to score from the pharmacy (at least I think they were sinus meds). So, feeling no pain :) we stumbled upon a bar off La Rambla that happened to be an Argentinian hang out. At least this is what I gathered from the cute, scruffy Argentinian sitting next to me at the bar. I got to talkin’ to Juan Pablo who just happened to be in advertising (hello light bulb), of course I tried to “sell myself” and get a job eventually in our convo. Anyways, I had reached the point in the night where all I want to do is dance. But the look of horror in Juan Pablo’s face when I suggested dancing in the bar, kept my cheeks planted. Although, I did get up to make him show me his limp (not that one)... He had been explaining to me that he had a slipped disc from playing rugby and was on some meds himself, oh and dancing would be difficult. I called bullshit to this and walked across the bar to make him prove it. As he hobbled over to me, his Argentinian buddies watched and laughed (Ok, bonus for being a good sport). Eventually, and prob after enough of my whining, we relocated to a larger establishment where dancing was appropriate (and I swear it was behind a hidden door and a velvet curtain). Yeah! A dancefloor, I grabbed my crippled friend and dragged him on. Danced a bit and then came closing time... Juan Pablo and his gentlemen friends volunteered to walk my sis and I back to our hostal. On the walk back he asked me to spend the night at his place. Hmmm... Prior to leaving my mother had said, “Don’t leave your sister, no matter how cute he looks,” (really mom, not necessary!). Honestly, the wine and meds were making me feel tingly and all I wanted to do was pass out. So I replied, “I’ll go over your place, but I’m not having sex with you,” (What? Does he think American girls are easy?). He was seriously taken aback by my comment... “Why??? I’ll use a condom.” “No buddy, sorry, not gonna happen.” So I kissed Juan Pablo goodbye and passed out face first into “my bed”. In the morning, I began to recount the nights events with my sister. I told her about our conversation on the walk back to the hostal and how JP offered to make passionate love to me (no, not at all-very dry and to the point actually). So my lil sis, the ying to my yang, the one that makes me look like a damn rebel, says “You should of told him you couldn’t, cuz you’d break his back!” Ugh!!! Why didn’t I think of that? I pride myself on the one-liners and I totally slacked. Arg! So, that’s the only thing I would do differently on my (Amazing) and (Great) trip: is tell Juan Pablo, “I’d break your back.”

BTW: Currently accepting applications for a travel buddy for a Spring trip, cuz with nothing to look forward to-shoes might start flying.