Southern France is glorious. Oh! Our train went right over the ocean. I swear it looked like we were sinking in and ohhh, the views! It was this tiny regional train with open windows and no air and I just kept bobbing in and out of windows taking pictures. This nice French couple seemed very amused by me, as far as I could understand, as I don't know French beyond "Hello, my name is Amy. How are you? I am fine, thank you." By the way, I could not have gotten by in France on that. Shocking, I know. But my "Merci" is horrendous as is and I froze up every time someone said anything to me and always, always, ALWAYS wanted to respond in German. Good thing Brittany knew enough to get us by.
Barcelona is amazing. We walked a lot today (shocking, I know) and saw all the Goudi architecture, which was nice, but my favorite part of the trip so far has definitely been Park GÜELL (sorry for the caps, I copy and paste and am lazy). Despite climbing up a neverending and most certainly 45 degree incline of a hill, we saw the most amazing view of Barcelona ever and walked around and around and oh, I love outside!
Our hostel is nice, but hot. There are two computers with free Internet access and I am currently monopolizing one. Ooh la la, I am evil. We got in at about 10:30 last night and had to be let in by these two backpackers who were also staying at the hostel who definitely did not work for the hostel but had been left at the desk with our keys anyway because the desk closes at 10. Hmm, OK. They told us all about their trip, since they'd been at it since June 5 or so and had already been to Morocco and Russia and been denied water and instead supplied vodka and had slept on park benches and crashed on bartenders' couches. It made me what to be a boy. Girls just can't pull that off -- at least, not girls like me who need everything planned and listed out in a barely legible fashion.
It was 11 by the time we were done chatting it up and, I forgot to mention, Brittany and I had sorta not eaten a meal all day because of our crazy train schedule. We left before breakfast was even served at the hostel, munched on some chocolate French pastry we'd bought the night before around 10, then I survived off Nutella, stale baugette, Belgian chocolates (OMG SO GOOD), and Coke. Mmm, to my health. So we trekked out in our barely-adventurous way two blocks from our hostel and plopped ourselves down in some restaurant that was a) open at 11 and b) looked safe because it had an at sign in its name. What? We knew what chicken was in Spanish, so we ordered something with "pollo" in it and...it was fantastic. Thin, thin chicken and a fried egg (sunny side up, which normally freaks me out but I ate it anyway) and fries and some strange salad and OH, all these things combined for this really wonderful, salty, cacophony of flavors. Yes, I did just use the word "cacophony" and I know you enjoyed it. We went to bed happy and bloated and sleep until 9. 9! What is that ungodly late hour?
We started out today with this deliciously warm bagette and the day stayed about like that -- nice. We stopped by a grocery store on our morning trek and bought these 1.5 liter bottles of water for, get this -- 28 cents. WHAT. WHAT. Gosh, I love Spain. No strange pickpocket attempts, air conditioned metro, holas and graciases, Goudi buildings, two computers no one seems to want to use in the lounge...
I'll jump off the Spain fangirl bus for a second, though, to state that we did, however, go to a lame-o restaurant. The menu outside definitely seemed cheaper than inside and the paella was only OK and my Coke cost 4,50 euros. We also ate at McDonald's for lunch. I am so ashamed. It was just right there and we were oh so hungry and... I am a lame, lame American.
Basically, Barcelona is greater than Amsterdam by about 1,000,000,000,000 percent. Brittany wants me to add more zeroes to that digit, but, frankly, I'm not even sure what that digit even is anymore...a trazillion? If it's not in Bill Gates' bank account, it's too high, especially since Anne Frank's Huis wasn't so bad.
It's Friday. I'm not really sure how. And I'm going to have to condense my luggage quite a bit to board the plane to Morocco on Sunday. Brittany and I plan to wear most, if not all, of our clothes (as in, I will wears my sleep shorts under my shorts under my pants under my two skirts with however many tanktops I can fit on under my jacket. I'll also probably toss my toiletry kit, if necessary. I will not, however, toss my shot glasses and cool Barcelona Goudi mug. I'll toss Seth's keychains before that. Oh snap!
1 comment:
"If it's not in Bill Gate's bank account, it's too high."
Whaaaat? The number you have there is a trillion, which is more than Bill Gates has in dollars.
And you'd better not toss the keychains! I'm not paying you for keychains if you toss any.
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