Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish my mother didn't raise me to know better....

These old Spanish women love to test my gangsta, I swear!

Everytime they push past me with the strength of 10,000 men, my instinct is to let them know what's really, really hood. [They have to know it's rude to push...right?]

Only thing that stops me is the apparition of my mother with a look on her face that says "What did you just do? I'm getting the belt. Let's see if you'll disrespect your elders again."

Dammit mom, dammit.

France, is that you?

Never been in France before, but Girona is how I imagine it to be. I’ll find out for sure next year. Old castle walls, covered with greenery, winding cobblestone streets that dipped and climbed according the the landscape, and all of it by the laziest of rivers. (I actually hate those streets. I thought I would have myself a Beyonce experience and strut in heels as I went sightseeing. After nearly breaking my ankle 3 times I had to stop in some rando store for flats. Guidebooks should maybe write that in the description somewhere: cobblestone streets- Heels aren’t recommended. Could result in your subsequent death….but I digress)

I don’t consider myself a nature person, but I sat on those ivy covered walls that are probably older than the US itself, and was very content to be there, breathing in the fresh air and doing absolutely nothing. It had to be the most pure feeling that I’ve had in a long while.

Update: Upon further reflection, all those good feelings could also be due to the fact that I finally flats on and didn’t have to worry about falling and breaking my neck. I prefer to think that it was solely the effect of Girona and nature.

Barcelona and the 40 (thousand) Thieves

My verdict on Barcelona?

Meh.

Not to say it wasn't cool or anything, but I think I was expecting more....actually I'm SURE I was. Everyone kept telling me how cool/spectacular/amazing/orgasmic/etc, etc, etc it was. They even told me they knew I would like it, me especially (whatever that means). Actually, it was more like they commanded me: You're going to love Barcelona...whether you like it or not.

Welp. I'm very underwhelmed after my Barca experience. It definitely isn't my soul-city. Nice city, just not mine.
I'm sure the fact that Barcelona is practically a haven for thieves played a part in my general indifference. Now, I'm from New York City, and I already know that we aint the safest place to be, but damn! In Barcelona, you constantly have to be on your guard and even when you are, shit will still get taken. My roomie? Yup. She got got for her camera AND her phone the second night in. They were both in her purse....which she was wearing...and it was latched shut. How they got in? We don't know.

Apparently, my roomie got off easy. Another girl got her purse straight ripped off her arm. I mean, c'mon son! (I almost want to laugh, cuz like, you really just ripping people's purses off their arms??!! This is what we're doing now?)
Why did everyone who heard that I would be stopping in Barcelona during my vacay tell me to watch my purse and be careful? Walking down the streets of BCN, little old ladies would stop me and warn "Cuida tu bolso!" while simulating the proper way to protect yourself. (If you want to know how, just clutch onto your purse for dear life and look around you with a crazed look in your eyes. That was their demonstration. Probably works. Afterall, they still have their purses)
The whole thing made it hard to relax when I was constantly worried about who was behind me, in front of me, next to me, across from me, under me, on top of me, etc, etc etc.

Thieves of Barcelona, I know it's hard out here and we are all suffering from a recession, but cot damn, can I live?! Can.I.Live?!

So yes, I went to Barcelona and while I enjoyed my time there for the most part, I have no desire to live there and was very prepared when it was time to move on to Valencia.

P.S. I would be wrong if I didn't acknowledge Barcelona's epic nightlife. Ummm, let's just say that my last night in Barca, I didn't sleep, barely made it to my 7am bus to Valencia and when I woke up in Valencia, I was still drunk. Now, imagine that every night, for 5 nights. I'm just happy to be alive.

Back, back, back.

And what a trip it’s been.

Glad to be back at home base, though.

Now, I work for one more week, then jet to the States for another 2 weeks of vacation time.

December has got to be the best month ever.