Barcelona Blues

Yep, that's Dr. House schleppin' Schwepps in Spain.

"Oh and guard your wallets. Barcelona is number one pick pocketing place."
--Shane Birney on Facebook two days before arrival.

The afternoon that Chris, Shane, and I arrived in Barcelona we changed into swim attire and made for the beach. Along the way, we passed through one of the most gorgeous cities we have yet visited during this trip, complete with castles, palm trees, and an enormous mountain that looms over the relaxed Catalan town like a kindly grandfather. Barcelona is infinitely different from Madrid in more ways than just the language. Everything feels more European, beautiful and yet dirty, vast and yet compact, strange but at once familiar.

We found the beach (or series of beaches rather) and proceeded to stroll along and wade in the crystal waters of the Mediterranean which were surprisingly chilly. It was long before we noticed that there were naked children running around, which then further clued us to to the naked adults. Apparently Spanish law permits nudity anywhere as long as it doesn't "cause a disturbance." The beaches however were not what you would consider "nude" beaches, but people sure weren't shy.

In a quest for food and adventure, we entered the Ramblas, which are in the heart of the city and comprised of hundreds of tiny, narrow winding streets and alleyways that criss-cross each other in no discernible pattern. Yet, despite their incongruity, we never became lost and actually had a grand time wandering the ancient labyrinth. Before long it was dark and we figured we would return to the hostel and check to see if the girls (Stephanie and Ashley) had gotten in touch with us, as they were due in the city late that evening. First, Chris made it a point to fulfill a homesick craving by stopping in for a pepperoni pizza from the Barcelona Dominos. I must admit, it did taste delightfully like America.
At the hostel, we found no message from the girls, but since where new where they were staying we decided to walk over and check to see if they had arrived. This was the beginning of the trouble.


The sun was well down by the time we went searching for the Hotel Barbara, which--as it turns out--is not in the nicest of areas. In fact, we found the Hotel hidden away down a narrow alley that was poorly lit and dirty even by Barcelonan standards. A quick visit with the clerk alerted us that the girls had not yet checked in, so we left to head back to our place. In the process, we turned a wrong corner and were immediately swarmed by prostitutes. Thankfully, I had my Panama hat on and was able to pull the brim low over my face and, for lack of a better word, charge through. Shane didn't have this luxury. As he tried to shoo away the streetwalkers, on particular large and angry Gypsy confronted him , babbling in Spanish and barring his path. As he attempted to argue with this...female...through the language barrier, out of nowhere two men appeared and hopped onto his back and shook him violently. Just as quickly as they had appareared, they were gone and Shane was left considerably dazed. Chris and I got him away finally, but as we turned the corner a look of realization dawned on Shane's face.
"My wallet's gone." He said quite simply. Thus, full of determination, he turned back to the Devil's alley from whence we had just escaped and proceeded to demand the return of his property. This however only resulted in more trouble as the angry Gypsy who had started all of this became violent and attempted to claw Shane, missing his flesh but shredding the back of his T-Shirt.

That episode effectually brought our night to a close as we returned to the hostel and Shane went about the necessary steps to have his debit card canceled. Thankfully the only things he lost were the aforementioned card and his driver's license. His cash and passport had remained unmolested in his hip pocket during the attack.
The next morning was a bit sober, but Shane was determined not to let his vacation be utterly ruined, and he did a capital job of keeping his spirits high. Later in the day we finally caught up with Ashley and Stephaine, who had arrived from Paris via plane sometime around 1am but mercifully had no problems with the locals. We all spent the day in cafe's and on the beach, though I was the only one who actually braved the frigid Mediterranean waters for a delightful mid-afternoon swim. I had my first taste of horchata and cuddlefish and we all enjoyed each others company during our vacation from our vacation.