The following post is a recollection of my first twenty four hours in Barcelona a few weeks ago. The second part will follow shortly. Mom- don't get upset about the cave, I'm alive and well!
After landing safely in Barcelona-Reus, my friends and I still had to take a one and one-half hour bus ride into the city of Barcelona. We had a little trouble finding the bus and were a little confused (why, I’m not sure) when we found out the bus would be departing later than scheduled. RyanAir hires buses to transport its flights from the small airports on the outskirts of large cities and so we had to wait for the flight coming in from Sevilla to land (one hour late) to arrive before leaving.
When we got on the bus we were pleasantly surprised to hear English all around us. A group of students studying abroad in Sevilla had also decided to visit Barcelona for the weekend. I didn't sleep as planned on the bus so when we got to Barcelona around 2AM I was pretty exhausted. We had only a slight idea where our hostel was in relation to the bus station so I was ready for a disastrous walk through a not-so-nice part of Barcelona when we disembarked. Luckily Charlie, the one nice enough to book our hostel, remembered vaguely some street names and managed to lead us in the right direction. We reached our hostel by 2:30AM, much earlier than I had anticipated. Our group, eight or nine of us, settled in to a HUGE room (20 bunk beds or so) all by ourselves for a night of much needed rest.
We got up around 9AM for some free breakfast and to figure out plans for the day. I had coco crispies, toast with nutella, and hot chocolate, mmmm. They say chocolate is good for the heart, you know. When we had all rolled out of bed and dressed the group split off into smaller groups to explore the city. I decided to go with my friend Nate to find some "sweet skate spots". Our first stop: a skate shop to try and find a board.
Nate had googled a skate shop within walking distance of the hostel. When we got there the employees pretty much laughed at his idea of renting a board for the weekend. They did, however, give us directions to their sister store where he could purchase a used board for 60 Euros or so. He told us which bus to take and we set off in hot pursuit of Nate's skateboard dreams.
At the bus stop Nate and I were discussing which bus to take (we didn't listen overly well in the shop) when a really nice woman interrupted us and told us to just follow her. Over all we found the people in Barcelona to be much friendlier and more out going than the old fogies here in Santander. We took the bus one stop to far and ended up a few blocks down from where we needed to be. From there it was a guessing game which street the shop was on. We tried asking some people for directions but no one seemed to have heard of the shop. Nate suggested we ask a skater (identifiable by shoes and clothing, though I don't have much of an eye for it) for help but the one kid we asked (happened to be riding a skateboard) also did not know what we were talking about. Finally we wandered down the right street and found the shop. It was a little hole in the wall door that opened up into a fairly big store. Nate bought a used board (some Spanish company) that one of the skaters sponsored by the shop had used. Excited to skate (and for me to take pictures) we scurried along to one of the most well known "four-stairs" in all of skateboarding (so I'm told). I took some pictures of Nate skating in the plaza MACBA and then a video of him jumping down the four stair.
While attempting the four stair Nate cut his hand open pretty badly. We went to a pharmacy to get some band aids before trying to find a place to eat for lunch. When we walked into the pharmacy he showed the ladies working his hand. They made funny faces and the proceeded to clean and bandage his wound (without gloves) free of charge. You have to love social healthcare!
With the bleeding under control we then went looking for a cheap place to eat. Strolling down La Rambla, the largest tourist trap in Barcelona filled with street performers and post card stands, Nate ran into a friend from NC State who has been backpacking around Europe. His friend, Steve, told us that he had been living in Barcelona for about a month, he just couldn't seem to find time to leave. He offered to show us a cheap place to eat (huge sandwiches for 3 Euros) and show us around for a little while.
Steve may be one of the most interesting and crazy people I have ever met in my life. He hitchhiked to Barcelona from northern Europe and had been living for the better part of a month in a cave with some street performers he met. He was currently on a budget of one Euro per day and had therefore been literally scavenging for food (in dumpsters and the back doors of restaurants). He has seen more of Barcelona than most people who live in the city their whole lives ever do. His stories of the people he's met and the knowledge of street life was incredible.
When Nate and I finished eating, Steve took us to a spot where Nate could do some more skating. I took some more pictures and talked a while with Steve.
When Nate had worn himself out thoroughly, Steve offered to take us up to the cave. We were both so curious that we only hesitated a minute before agreeing to his offer. Steve estimated a ten minute walk to the cave (not too bad) and we figured we had to see the cave for ourselves.
When Nate and I pictured the cave, we pictured a hole in a large rock face off in the mountains surrounding the city. This wasn't exactly what we would witness in the coming hour. Steve led us through a park which showed signs of homeless inhabitants. As we passed one bench he told us about one morning when the whole area was covered in blood and heroin needles (bad sign, number one). He said it so nonchalantly that we ignored the bad sign and continued to follow him. We then climbed down a steep set of stairs (more like divots in a hillside) and jumped down underneath a bridge (highway over pass). We were now standing where the old highway used to be before the government blew it up and put in the new fancy overpass for the Olympic games. Everywhere you looked was covered in trash from the highway: bottles, shoes, mattresses, tires. Nate and I continued to give each other the "where the hell are we and what the hell are we doing here" look as Steve pressed forward. At one point a homeless man stopped us to tell us to be careful if we were going to the cave (bad sign number two). Steve thanked him and laughed. When we got to the cave Nate and I could find no words, only laughter. The cave had stairs up to the front door, a "front lawn" covered in trash, several tribal relics out front, and a window. Inside we found even more trash, a kitchen table, a cooking area, and several sleeping areas. Steve had made walls from bamboo shoots for his bedroom. The whole scene was strangely comical. When Nate and I had semi-absorbed our surroundings, Steve led us back to the safety of the city streets.
The way back to the city Nate and I kept turning to each other and laughing. What in the world did we agree to go to a homeless cave for? Thank God we got out safely. It is an experience that I am glad I had but one that was probably a result of poor decision making. I can confidently say that I have seen a side of Barcelona unknown to many. It was certainly an eye opening glance into the alternative life styles of the less fortunate members of society.
After the cave adventure I was up for something a little more laid back for the rest of the afternoon. We walked along the board walk down to the beach for a little time in the sun. We saw some really cool street musicians and a lot of fake designer bags on our way. The beach was kind of ugly- Barcelona had to import sand from Egypt to stop erosion of their beaches. The sand turned your feet a dark black the instant you touched it, pretty dirty stuff. After the beach we were getting tired and hungry so we decided to head first to a grocery store and then to the hostel.
Steve took us to a giant two-story grocery. Nate and I bought the ingredients for a spaghetti dinner and a cheap bottle of wine (to celebrate being alive after the cave). We took the metro back to the hostel and then took quick showers before dinner. When we went to cook our spaghetti we realized that our "kitchen" was really just a microwave and a toaster oven. We improvised and made French bread pizzas, instead. After inhaling our pizzas, our group ran to the metro to go to the Magic Fountain Show.
The Magic Fountain show is held in a large plaza lined with fountains. Every Friday and Saturday night they hold shows set to colorful lights and music that are free to the public. My friend Andrew, whom I have known since middle school, is studying this semester in Barcelona and we were going to meet up before the show. I had a little trouble locating him after getting off the metro, none of the exits are labeled well and there are four or five different exits per stop. Once I had found him we walked up to the fountain. We had missed the first phase of the show, a Disney themed segment that I was totally bummed to miss. The rest of the show was pretty cool, too. The spray from the fountain was making it pretty long distances thanks to the gusty winds that seem to follow me wherever I go.
When the show ended we traveled back underground and pushed (literally, through a large crowd) our way onto a metro to hunt for some food. We came back up near the Sagrada Familia, a huge church by Gaudi that was started in the 1800s and still has yet to be finished. I think it's really ugly and just a hoax for getting people to donate money to the church (it's all privately funded). The Sagrada may be where the phrase "gaudy" comes from. Andrew and his friends took us to an AWESOME kabob place near the Sagrada (large gyro for only 3 Euros) and then we headed back to his apartment to hang out for a while.
We hung out at Andrew's for a while to kill time. No one in Spain goes out before midnight, sometimes it's closer to 1AM. Andrew's apartment is pretty big and decorated in a rather eclectic manner. The apartment belonged to the dead grandmother of an exchange student who was at UNC last semester and still contains a lot of her furnishings. Add to that collection all of the random things that the college boys have brought home from the side of the streets and you have a perfect bachelor pad motif.
When the proper amount of time had passed, we all crowded into cabs to go to Pippermint. Pippermint is the definition of an American tourist bar. First off: you can only order drinks in 1L, 2L, 6L or 13L glasses (obviously they come with multiple straws and are meant to be shared). Second off: the wall was covered in US state flags (did you know Ohio is the only one that is not rectangular, stupid buckeyes). Andrew, Nadia, and I split 2 liters of Sangria and then we all began hunting for a table. The bar was FILLED with jerks from New Jersey (we knew this because they kept yelling about Jersey). Our group has a running joke that whenever we do something dumb, it's in the name of Team America. We were pretty embarrassed when the Jersey kids started yelling about Team America… only not so much in a joking tone.
When the drinks were finished and we could hardly keep our eyes open from exhaustion, we hailed a second round of cabs and went home to the comfort of our hostel. We were not alone in our room anymore, however. Two CRAZY Canadian girls had joined our party. Only one of the girls had made it back to the room, so far, and was telling us in a loud volume how much of a dumb ass her friend was. The two of them had gone to a pub crawl. The scrawny Canadian then disappeared and the chubbier one could not find her or get a hold of her on her cell. An hour later, the chubby one gets a call from the scrawny one's cell but it's a man on the other side telling Chubby that Scrawny had passed out on a park bench. Scrawny was passed out for two hours on a random bench before wandering home to the hostel. When Scrawny finally made it home she had no recollection of the evening and was mad at Chubby for yelling at her in front of all of the Americans. The whole scene was hilarious (once Scrawny had made it home safely). The Canadians would spend the rest of the weekend bickering about who left who first at the pub crawl.
