You may have already guessed, but Barcelona is currently my favorite city.  Until further traveling proves otherwise, that is my story.  It would have been easy to miss our flight and stay forever.

This is the rest.  Through the days of discovering, these are things that don’t belong to any particular category.  The scenery, the food and drinks, what I wore, and the things I fell in love with.  A story here and there.  A lot of photos.

Sporadic, I guess.

Since we walked everywhere, I had to be casual.  I would have DIED in heels.  Flats were my best friend.  My little fish necklace is Betsey Johnson, I bought earrings from Forever 21 for $1.50 each, and the rest of my wardrobe was from Cotton On, Nasty Gal, G By Guess, and Forever 21.  I braided my hair a lot and utilized the sock bun (I’ll go over that another day).

What lies at the top of this trash can?  Well, a porn collection, of course.  haha.

This is clever.  Take a bicycle for 30 minutes, it’s free.  There are meters on the bikes so you can pay to use them as long as necessary.  They were everywhere.  A great way to get around without having to pay for gas.

And the food…

The Sonora was a place right down the street from our hotel.  It was a sports bar with American teams and their titles covering the walls.  The menu had items like “The World Series” and “The Superbowl”.  I don’t remember what this is called, but I dubbed it “The Monster”.

That’s goat cheese… in a block.  I got halfway through.

They also had a heavy hand.

Apparently, vodka water is a glass full of vodka and a bottle of water.  I’m not complaining.

We decided on our favorite restaurant around day 3.  Not for any specific reason; I liked the waiter because he was handsome, the food was good, it was in a pretty neighborhood.  Nothing over-the-top.  Just simple.

And funny things happened here.

Once, during lunch here, a homeless man came up to our table asking for change.  We pretended not to understand.  “No hablamos espanol”.  His response… “Do you guys have any change?”

Even the homeless people are bilingual.  It’s amazing to me that, there, everyone can communicate with everyone, but we could barely communicate with anyone.

At La Biennal, we had our first and only “Lost-in-Translation” moment.  We had already eaten, but didn’t want to leave.  I asked our waiter (not the handsome one) for “vodka y agua” and he immediately appeared confused.  He gave a quick “que es vodka?” and then turned to the other (handsome) waiter and asked him “Jorge, que es vodka?”  Except it sounded more like “vaca”.  Neither of them knew.

I felt dumb.  So, Adam and I started rambling off brands.  “Absolut?  Stoli?  Ketel?”  I said, “liquor?” and made a drinking hand-gesture.  Jorge said, “sambuca!” like he understood.  I went with it, but I knew better.

This is what I got.

Fail.  This is definitely Sambuca, licorice flavored nonsense, in a snifter.  No thanks.

I texted my friend Jenn and explained my situation, I asked her how to correctly order vodka in spanish and she replied with “hahahahahahaha vodka is vodka!”

This was good news.  I no longer felt dumb.  I went inside, grabbed the waiter, and pointed to the Absolut bottle behind the bar.  I asked him if I could have that in a glass (in spanish) and he says… “Ah! Vodka!”  I told him I just wanted it with water.  “Agua?”  (Not a popular request, I guess)

I got this, with a bottle of water on the side:

SALUD!

It took me over an hour to finish. There is clearly not room for water.

At the end of the night, the handsome waiter brings us our bill, and I hand him… the room key.  Adam points out that even though I may have wished it, he’s not invited back to our hotel.  And that we can’t pay with the hotel key.  And that I have just pulled a slutty move.

I. Was. Dying.

We were in one of those moments of uncontrollable laughter.

Plus, I was tanked from the goblet of vodka.  It might have been the best night we had. Good times.

They have Sponge-Bob-Square-Pants, too.  Only, it’s Bob Esponja, and the voices are a little strange, and Patrick is Patricio, and Squidward is Calamardo, and it was still funny.  And I’m immature.

The city was beautiful, but there was graffiti everywhere.

And then, there were the buildings I started planning on living in…

The last full day we went shopping.

And then I had to pack.  I discovered I have one organizational skill.

And soon our trip was over.  12 days without work or worry.  We spent all 12 trying more everyday to speak with more people.  Our concierge, Diana, spoke Spanish, Catalan, Italian, and English fluently.  French and German “not as well as (she) would like.”  She told us, “everyone knows two languages for the most part.  There are so many places nearby that you feel you should know everything.”  What an amazing mindset.  Learn a new language so you can communicate with surrounding countries, as opposed to “this is America and you better speak english.”  They were so accepting there, of everything, of everyone.  People seemed so happy, satisfied.  It was hard to leave.

Surprisingly, the ride to the airport was easy to enjoy.

And now we’re back.  Reminiscing on the laid-back-life and planning what adventure we’ll take on next.  South America, another European visit, who knows?

Hopefully it’s sooner rather than later.

And hopefully I’ll be completely bilingual by then.

Until then, make yourself smarter.  Go somewhere you’ve never been.

Xo,

Jenn