BCN–When Will I Actually Sleep?

Seriously, how am I even functioning? Oh yeah, European coffee: be wide awake after only sleeping 7 hours over the course of 2 nights.

So was chilling in the Yellow Nest, which is a kick-ass hostel, if a little outside the mainstream chaos of Barcelona. This girl mentioned they were going out for drinks, so I joined the party (and got a chance to wear my pink dress, yeay!) Apparently this was a unofficial bar crawl, cause the one sponsored by the hostel sucked and cost 12 Euro.

With a group of approximately 15 Americans, Germans, and Aussies, we proceeded into the city and found this kickin’ bar where they let the customers be their own bartenders! Seriously, you fork over the price of your drink, say a rum and Coke, and they handed you the bottle and a can of Coke. Which translates of course to, dump as much alcohol as possible into the glass. Downside, I cannot for the life of me remember seeing the name of the bar—I’m thinking it was something like Les Cerano…

About 1:30 we headed for a nearby club, with free passes from the owner of the bar! Loud music, strobe lights, tons of people, and awesome to have a couple guys to fend off the creepos. Naturally, the drinks were over-priced, which is why I stayed away from the bar (I’m not paying 10 Euro for the same thing I bought for 3 at the bar).

About 4, people decided to continue the adventure by looking for another bar. Of course, that didn’t work as most bars close around 3, leaving the city to the clubs. So most everyone gave up and hopped the metro to the hostel, but a couple of us headed down to the beach cause someone had a hookup at another club.

How cool is it to get into an exclusive (think 30E cover) nightclub when you’re broke and wearing flip-flops? This one was even more expensive and the music wasn’t any better, but still had a cool time. Unfortunately, I lost my buddies at about 6 and decided, after searching fruitlessly, to hop the metro back alone.

Next day I moved hostels to my current location, which is right off La Rambla (touristville, I’ve never seen so many Burmudas). Spent the day at the beach, cause there’s nothing else to do on a Sunday in Barcelona. Nice and sunny, with many Asian women offering “massajahs.” On my way home, the skies opened up—and then the lightning started. I need to learn the Spanish words for “get lost dumbass, I won’t buy an umbrella when I’ve got a raincoat.”

Met a group of Irish and Germans drinking cheap beer and wine, right in front of the “No esta permitido el consume de alcohol en el hostel” sign. We hung out and went adventuring: I elected to not tell them they were headed up toward a park, which was not likely to have bars around. Lost tourists are good cheap entertainment.

Got up at 9 today, yet missed the crappy hostel breakfast cause I showered. Damn this place is annoying me—have to pay for internet too. And the receptionist is rude; one of the guys nicknamed her Ol’ Hotpants, for obvious reasons. Probably gonna hit up the beach again today.


One thought on “BCN–When Will I Actually Sleep?

  1. So want some of that european coffee.
    oh and hot pink dresses are in!! haha
    sounds like you’re having too much fun without me, i’m quite green
    love ya 😀

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