Leaving the hostel at 6am, bidding farewell to our French-speaking Canadian friends wasn't as tired as I had anticipated. I glanced out the window to Barcelona's Skyline one last time. I lugged oversized pack the Slavic at the cafe gifted to me onto my back. It carried all my possessions. I had packed light. Additional artifacts would fill the rest. I stepped out onto the warm Spanish night. Slippers, not shoes. Shorts, not pants. 6am.
We've arrived. One nap and we're here. But the directions you gave us were unclear to the cab driver. And our Spanish was as bad as his English. And we were Lost. An apartment right on the beach; it's not what I see here. This is kinda like... suburbia. I thought this was a beach town?
Left stranded at some shopping center, we stopped to breathe with cappuccinos and paninis before embarking on our adventure. Puedes ayudarme?
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