Sisterfest 07: Barcelona Edition

Today is day 3 in Barcelona, and we love it. We arrived on Friday after taking the overnight train from Cannes, and--let's just say we did not want to get off that train. We reserved a couchette, which is like a little room with bunk beds, and we had the cutest couple as roommates. We pretty much fell asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillows, once we got over the excitement of sleeping on a train.

We spent our first day getting oriented to the area of Barcelona around our hostel. We are staying in a very lively area near "La Rambla," which is a big road with a wide pedestrian strip in the middle that is full of people with metallic paint on their faces (these don't annoy me as much as the metallic man in Rome), flower shops, and cafes. There's also a market close by that has the most colorful fruit we have ever seen. Even though it's swarming with tourists, we love it.

Yesterday was our first full day, and we took a bike tour with a bunch of other Americans. We had a very charismatic tour guide named JJ, and quite the variety of personalities on our tour. One lady believed JJ when he joked that catholic clergy in Barcelona sent messages to the Vatican via white doves. She said, "They can fly that far? How do they know which way to go?" This was after she asked JJ if he was going to be our driver for the day. He reminded her that this was a bike tour, and that she was responsible for "driving" herself. He later referred to her and her family as "the family that doesn't listen to a word I say." It was entertaining to say the least.

We loved the bike tour, and definitely want to bike in more cities later on. We saw the highlights of Barcelona, like La Sagrada Familia, the Arc de Triomf (copy of the one in Paris), Ciutadella Park, the Olympic Village, some other churches and museums, and--most importantly--the hotel where Woody Allen is staying right now. We had lunch by the beach, and then headed back to the bike shop. One of the most important things we learned on our tour was that Barcelona is a city that does not like to associate itself with Spain, but Cataluña instead. They speak an entirely different language: a mix of Spanish, Italian, French, etc. So all that Spanish I learned while doing community service in Waterville at the kids' language school isn't coming in handy as much as I had hoped. :)

Last night we went to dinner at one of the fabulous restaurants from our Travel Bible: Let's Go. Then we decided it was time to look in the mirror and tell ourselves, "When in Rome." What I mean is, we made a decision to stay out as late as everyone else in Barcelona, which can be until 6am or even later. We didn't quite make it until 6, but we were satisfied with getting back to the hostel after 2. We went to this club we read about that has salsa dancing on Saturday nights. Of course when we got there, no one was there because it was so early (midnight). We stuck it out for a bit, and right before we left, two obliging gentlemen asked us to salsa. I danced with a man named Sebastian, who had a rosary around his neck....interesting. He had to teach me some moves, but he said I was a good learner. But once he figured out that I am only in Barcelona as a tourist, he wanted to dance a little closer. That was annoying, so I peaced out and went to rescue Jamie from Max, who will be remembered from here on out as "Sour Laudry Man." I didn't notice, but apparently Jamie's Supersonic Sense of Smell (SSS disorder...be glad you don't have it) picked up on it. She said it smelled like Sour Laundry Man had washed his clothes three days ago, but had remained in the washer to sour. I didn't care what he smelled like, I was ready to salsa the heck on out of there. But we were proud of ourselves for going out on a limb. How were we to know that it would smell like moldy socks?

Today we are going to the Picasso Museum (Picasso=my FAVE), and a tour inside La Sagrada Familia. I don't know how much more "going out" we can handle in Barcelona, but we are thinking about a salsa lesson the night before we leave. That way, the terms are clear, because the next time some sketchy dude asks me if I'm a tourist, I'm going to say, "The last man who asked me that ended up on the floor crying and sucking his thumb." This sweet southern belle is not afraid to kick some ass...or at least pretend.

So that's about it for now. We will let you know if we leave any Barcelona men crying and running to their mommy. As for photos, the internet cafe we use won't let us upload any, so you'll have to wait until we get to Switzerland. We are planning on going zorbing. If you don't know what it is, look it up. Then you'll understand why it was Jamie's idea and not mine. :)

We miss you all so much, and we are loving the comments and emails. Keep it up!
xoxoxo
Love,
Jennifer and Jamie