Barcelona, Spain

(June 14-June 18) Getting to Barcelona, Spain from Stuttgart, Germany was literally planes, trains and automobiles. Our day started dark and early at 2 am when the buzz from our cell phone shocked us back into reality. We had barely set our heads down safely on our pillows at 11pm after the France vs. Switzerland game. Not to mention we made a pit stop to see Brazil play Croatia at the Fan Fest. With screaming red eyes we waddled with our packs down to the train station going through the belly of the Fan Fest beast. We walked over a hefty blanket of rubbish and broken glasses. We had to snake past the Swiss and French fans still partying from the tie earlier that day.

The train station itself was a bit like a battlefield. Bodies were littered about, frozen in the last position they assumed as the booze that had consumed all day finally won the battle over them. Our 3:15 am train was late. We waited. The train car we boarded was almost entirely empty. At the first stop an old German man entered the train and made a bee line directly for us. Everything about him was large, including his nose which had dried blood all over one nostril. Without even pausing in his motions he unloaded his stuff directly across from us and proceeded to ask us why the train was late, or at least that's what we assumed he was asking us in German, and we politely tried to say we spoke no German. Did not matter to him if we understood or not. Of all the empty train cars not to mention empty seats he had to sit right next to us. It was so early I had no patience to make small talk with Matt let alone with a odd man who spoke a language I could not understand. When there would be lulls in the one sided conversation he would make realistic cat noises and pretend there was a cat on the train somewhere. He did this noise not once but the entire time he sat next to us. Luckily he was only on the train a half an hour.

The hour long train ride took us to a stop where we picked up a bus to the airport. The bus ride was two hours to an airport where Ryan Air, the cheap Southwest airlines type carrier in Europe, flies out of. The hidden costs of the cheap Ryan Air flights are the various types of transport you must take to these out of the way airports. Our flight said it was out of Frankfurt but in actuality it was no where near Frankfurt.

The flight was only a couple of hours and landed in Rues, Spain. Woody Woodpecker greeted us as we deboarded the plane. No kidding, Woody Woodpecker. We then got on another bus to Barcelona. From there we lugged our packs through their subway metro system to a stop close to our hotel. Then we walked in the sun, with gust of cool air off the coast, to our hotel overlooking the sea. From start to finish the trip took 13 hours with two trains, two buses, a metro and walking.

But what a place we ended up at! Not that one needs a reason to visit Spain but my good friend Josie was getting hitched there and since we were already in Europe we could hardly pass up the opportunity. Her inlaw-to-be arranged the hotel for us and we felt blessed. A very chic and modern hotel with a bed larger than a California King with air conditioning and an ocean view. We were both invited for a separate girls and guys night out. A last hoorah for the bride and groom. We tried to rest up but slept lightly for fear we would never wake up. It was a night of paella, cava, wine, tapas, sangria and dancing until 4:30 am. It was deliriously fun and I finally went to bed at 5am, Matt crashing in a wee bit earlier at 3:30.

Somehow we managed to wake up in time for the famous breakfast buffet served down in the hotel restaurant. There were eggs, bacon, proscuitto, breads, cheeses, fruits, freshly squeezed juices, coffee, sweat croissants, etc. We filled our bellies and then retreated back upstairs for more sleep. Matt's goal everyday is to watch as many soccer matches as possible and since the games start at 3pm we usually try to see what we can before we post up at a bar to watch the game. Since we were christened Spainards the night before with our late late late night our time to explore we severely decreased. We managed to walk the Ramblas in search of outfits for our friends wedding. We passed over a dozen finely painted street performers. They are much more sophisticated than the guys that paint themselves gold and silver down by Fisherman's Wharf.

We eventually made our way back to our hotel to rest up. Spain, we could tell already, was going to be experienced in small doses in between naps. That night I looked up a tapas bar and so we took the metro there. It was a small place that was hopping with people. We didn't wait long for a table. We put our trust in the waiter's hands by asking him to bring us a sample of typical tapas. When he brought out 3 dishes we felt confident but then when a second waiter followed him up and placed a total of 11 small plates in front of us we felt defeated before we even started. There were two types of iberico ham, two types of sardines, cheese, tomato & olive oil bread, calamari, peppers, olives, eggy potatoes and bread. We tried to swallow all of the salty food down with our glasses of wine straight out of the barrel but even that was not enough to quench our thirst. I love salt. Sometimes I fantasize about having a salt lick like a horse. All of the salty, pickled food was even too much for me.

Matt and I managed to eat 10 out of the 11 plates but we were both visibly sweating and Matt even had to loosen a button on his pants. We waved the white flag to the waiter and he seemed to understand that we could simply not finish the mound of iberico ham on our plate. As we sat there unable to talk after all that food the waiter came by and brought us a shot of some 30% herbal alcohol that is supposed to help with digestion. It nearly made me puke is was so strong. Then he brought out a creamy flan type dish with honey dripping all over it. We couldn't refuse him because we were at his mercy and these, he told us in broken english, were his gift to us, his suckers for the night. The straw that finally broke us was a shot of Frangelico liquor. He was a glutton for our gluttony.

The wedding we attended was nothing short of spectacular. It was situated at a Spanish villa just outside of Barcelona with beautifully old stone buildings and sweeping terraces. We ate, drank, watched some flamenco dancing and partied in true Spanish style until 3am. Our last day in Barcelona we spent gawking at Gaudi's amazingly fanciful and whimsicle architecture. Spain definitely captured our imagination as well as all of our sleep.