In Barcelona

I get off the train this morning at Barcelona. Ahhhh, a cooling Barcelona breeze! Such a refreshing feeling after the stiffling heat and mug of Britian and Ireland (that doesn't make sense to me either, but it is true nonetheless). I pulled out my scribbled hostel diretions in my ridiculously tiny travel notebook (thanks Renee!) and quickly became aware of the nessecity of a map. So I bought a map from the train station store (5 euros! outrageous!) and then quickly realized that I was in the wrong station for my directions to make any kind of sense. Turns out only MOST trains go to Estacion Sants, some go to the smaller regional station, Franca. Which is where I was.

So I consulted my handy map and made my way to the nearest metro station. I passed by a HUGE line of Spaniards, two blocks in length, and several lines stretching in all directions. I have no idea what they were in line for, but they were holding forms and seemed willing to wait all day, if nessecesary.

I passed them by and after three left turns, found a metro station. I bought a three day metro pass (the Spanish are much more understanding of my broken Spanish than the French were of my broken French, which is nice), and after a few efficient transfers got the the right station, and began to follow my directions. I walked down Melcior de Palau and passed right by my hostel three times before realizing it was on the second floor, above a furniture store.

The hostel Aleberquinn is very clean and very nice. It doesn't seem like a big party hostel, which may be a nice change. I might even be able to get a proper nights sleep in I can't remember how long. I can't check in just yet, since it's only 11am and the rooms have to be cleaned and vacated, which is why I am where I am, which is sitting in the hostel lobby writing to you fine folk.

My impression of Barcelona (gleaned after a whooping two hours in the city) is positive. It's a little dirtier and gritier than London or Ireland, which gives it a sort of organic charm.

Cheers!