After a miserable experience getting up at 4AM in order to get a train to the airport, I made it to Barcelona around 11:30 in the morning. I promptly took the bus to my hostel, where I found myself feeling a little lost. The Foo Fighters were supposed to play that night and I had planned on spending most of the day queuing, but their show had been cancelled, and I was disappointed.
Nonetheless, I decided to set forth with no plan of attack again and see what I could see. It was Spain, after all!
Walking in the general direction of the ocean, I came to a park with a pretty greenhouse that reminded me of a mini version of the conservatory in Washington, D.C.
In Spain, their big meal of the day is lunch, and many restaurants offer menus del dia where you can order two main dishes and dessert from a few choices. I found one that seemed nice enough and walked in, pretending that I was a fluent Spanish speaker. I managed to keep it up until the second course arrived, when my server said something I didn’t understand at all, but judging by the speed at which he was talking I’m pretty sure he knew I was a tourist the second I walked in.
I made it to the pier, which had the feel of Baltimore–there was even a big mall advertising lots of restaurants. Somehow I missed the beach, but I was content to continue along the pier. Eventually I made it along Las Ramblas, the really big touristy section, where they were selling all of the souveneirs. I was quite fascinated by little cacti in magnetic pots, and considered buying one for a friend but decided it would either die in the post or under my care.
Just as at my hostel in London, I was surprised by how much people at my hostel kept to themselves. However, I befriended a Brit and a German over paella at the next door bar, and ended up spending the evening with them and two Icelanders at another Irish pub.