Knowing what you are doing is a luxury

I arrive in Spain in what is becoming my typical mode of travel. No map, and no plans. (And no lock thanks to airport security…sorry still bitter!) Nick wasn’t getting into Barcelona until the evening so I had the whole day for exploring. I no more than stepped off the plan before I was approached by a woman who gave me her bus ticket. She was going back home and hadn’t used the whole thing. Then I went to the tourist info center, grabbed a map and asked how to find the bus to take me to the center. From there I would be like, “Oh I’ve heard of that” or “that looks pretty Ill go there!” I had the best time. I saw almost the whole city. Nobody spoke English, but everyone understood my Italian. I used to take Spanish so my comprehension was at least 90%. When Nick arrived we hung out with his four friends (three of which were actually Spanish and spoke little English). They spoke in Spanish and I responded in Italian and it was never a problem. Kinda funny how that happens. Except now back in Italy I keep wanting to use some Spanish words. My Italian professor wants to kill me. I was doing so well! …And then I went to Spain.
Anyway,we climbed to the top of Montjuic and saw the Olympic stadium and where the torch was lit. Nick then took me to the Sagrada Famiglia. It is the creation of what happens when people do drugs. Ive started calling it the “crack” church cause no joke it looks like it could be in Vegas. There are colored statues of fruit on the tops of the towers and the names of Jesus and Mary in sparkling letters on the side. There is no theme and no continuity. However, its quite an amazing building. Its supposed to be finished in 60 years - so Im hoping to go back at its completion.
We stayed at the nicest hostel. Kabul backpackers. I recommend to all. Wireless, computers, free breakfast and dinner…it was great. It was my first hostel experience and something tells me I am spoiled. Oh well.
Then I pulled a Budapest and caught a 6am flight out ---meaning catching a 430 bus. I flew with an obnoxious group of Spanish high schoolers. It was too early in the morning for me to put up with their screaming and clapping the whole flight. I was glaring. The kid beside me actually took my window seat! (The punk!) When I showed him my ticket that said 4F he was like the important thing is that you’re seated in aisle 4. I was too tired to fight with the kid at 6am.
Did I mention I really really really liked Barcelona?