Wednesday evening kicked off a much needed vacation to Barcelona! We left home right around 8, just in time to catch the last bus leaving for Malaga. The bus station is conveniently located across the street from the only McDonalds in Granada, and we planned accordingly. This would be our first visit to a fast food restaurant since our departure from the states. On impulse, I ordered the nine piece mcpollo nuggets, having already fulfilled my hamburgesa cravings on many occasions while in Granada. The meal was a little bit sweeter than I remember, but nonetheless, I relished in a tummy achey reminder of the golden arches concoctions. I was a wee bit weary of the noises that had potential to escape from various vents, completely aware of twenty or so fellow bus passengers. The bus ride was a two hour trip south to Malaga, where we would later catch a plane to Barcelona. We found ourselves seated behind fellow American students that spent a day in Granada and were returning to their city of studies, Malaga. Zac was his name, a southern boy from a small city in Alabama, studying at Georgia State, and spending a year in Malaga to perfect his Spanish, and boy was he impressive. He was quite the chatty Cathy, and thus we found ourselves exchanging facebook names and planning to spend a weekend with them in Malaga. This is one of the most exciting perks about studying abroad, meeting new people and sharing a common love for travel, and thus ooberly stoked to share the city which we call home for a set period of time. He was accompanied by three other girlfriends, one of which was born and bred in Ireland, ah how I miss my Pamela Deegan. Our conversations were throughly entertaining, appearing to cut the the bus time in half. They kindly showed us the following steps we needed to take in order to get to the Malaga Airport, a night I shall always remember as the worst sleep of my life. Our flight was set to depart from Malaga around 8 a.m., and having arrived at the airport almost eight hours early, we were forced to sleep wherever the airport permitted. Unfortunately, ALL of Spain is floored with marble, never have we encountered carpet, and this made the idea of sleep appear even more impossible. We stumbled upon the airport cafe, which had been closed for the night, and reluctantly found couches that allowed us to lay horizontally in an attempt at comfort. I DID NOT SLEEP A WINK. The worst sleep ever, it may have been the intercom which reminded us, every five minutes, "That all luggage must be attended to" - in both spanish and english or the enormously large machine that was cleaning the area right around our desired destination of sleep. Eight couldn't come early enough, and I was relieved to get onto the plane and sleep for approximately two hours, I wasn't sure how I would survive my first day in Barcelona. Upon arrival we were instructed by our friend Chris Koch as to where we would meet and greet, I was anxiously excited to see a familiar face! Again, the adventures of travel snuck on board of the Aerobus as we made way to Plaza de Catalunya - and we met another fine individual by the name of Victoria. She was a middle aged woman that spoke only Spanish, great way to practice, and we struck up a conversation about the lifestyle of Spaniards in comparison to Americans, which by the way, we have all concluded to be much more relaxed and enjoyable. She told us that she lived in the Canary Islands, our hopeful destination for Spring Break 2011 (unfortunately, it looks a little too pricey for our likings), and she wrote down her name, number, and email in hopes that we could meet once again! Our meet and greet with Chris was wonderful and unexplainable strange, I assume it is the thought that recognition in a foreign country is totally bizarre and absolutely remarkable. He directed us to his apartment, where he and four other guys live. They lived in an area known as Diagonal, and their flat was located on the sixth floor, gah can you imagine the pain we encountered upon our first arrival, with only three hours of sleep under our wings. We met the boys and quickly scurried off to begin our first day of sightseeing : La Sagrada Familia, Las Ramblas, Antoni Gaudí's architectural works, and the school where Chris is enrolled. Barcelona is a very busy city, and more often do you hear English than in Granada. Catalan is the official language, but you can get by comfortably with regular ole' Spanish, and it felt as though us three gals were the only ones of the group that willingly spoke Spanish. This realization made me appreciate, much more, the educational opportunities I am receiving in Granada. It would be so easy to lose yourself in the party scene of Barcelona, only engulfed in American encounters, ignoring the possibilities that such a large city has to offer.
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| La Sagrada Familia |
Each meal, Chris concocted wonderful dishes which aided in money savings, delicioso! He was a wonderful host, I am sure that our trip has created a special bond that others will unable to understand. Evening one we went to a bar called "Opium," to see a live dj by the name of AfroJack, pretty incredible (not the music, but the scenery). It was a very posh club, with a outside seating area facing the sea. We danced into the wee hours of the morning and headed home in order to prepare for the following days festivities. For length, I shall shorten the descriptive events taken place the following days, I can assure you we had a blast! We visited the large market one afternoon, went to the beach another, visited several bars, and saw the Olsen sisters at Park Guell! I loved Barcelona, but it was a wonderful feeling to return to my home in Granada, and I am so lucky to be able to call Granada my home, more and more I wish to stay here forever.
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EGGS!
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... I have more pictures to post, but the internet is very slow at this hour, so this will have to suffice
