I showed up to the Mambo Tango youth hostel hot, sweaty and kind of exhausted from 7 days of partying, but surprisingly, in spite of its name, Mambo Tango is not a great place for a nice, quiet rest. Adam and Lauren weren’t due to arrive until the next day, so I had a night to kill by myself. Looking for some solitude and a bit of space, I decided to go up the hill to Montjuïc castle and park. I splurged on the 9€ tram ride up the hill, but decided I would force myself to walk down when it cooled off. And not just because I was too cheap to buy the round trip ticket!
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I went for a nice walk around the castle and saw some beautiful views of Barcelona and the port. It was cool and breezy, and nice to get some perspective on the city, literally and figuratively. After an hour or two, I began to make my way down the hill, and decided I could really use a cold beer. Lo and behold there happened to be a little cafe (of sorts) right there in the park, so I made a pit stop and had a beer with a delightful view of the city. Unfortunately I got attacked by mosquitoes and had to move on, otherwise I would probably still be sitting there.
As I wound my way through the park and down the hill, I came across another little refreshment stand, with an even more spectacular view of the city, so naturally I got another beer and enjoyed the view. After that I really had to pee, so I continued on my way and just so happened on the Terraza Miramar, which had a bathroom AND the most epic view of the city I had seen yet, so I got another beer and enjoyed the view as the sun set and the lights of the city turned on. I would probably still be there if they hadn’t kicked me out when they closed the place down at 8pm.
By the time I got back to my cozy little 8 person dorm, it was late and I was hungry. I had been craving Indian food but nobody who hadn’t been in Spain for the past 3 weeks was sick of Spanish food, so my solo night I was intent on getting it. To my delight, there was an Indian place super close to my hostel with great ratings and only one dollar sign — cha ching. It ended up being the best meal I have had to date in Spain. But don’t tell the Spanish that.
The next morning, after a night of listening to people come and go every hour, I met up with Adam and met his fiancé, Lauren. Adam and I are peas in a pod, and it felt like I had just seen him a week ago although it had been about 6 years. We spent a few hours walking through the Gothic quarter before going for drinks and meeting up with other friends of theirs. Then we decided to go back to Adam’s friend, Ruth’s flat to play music on the balcony, which looked down on Calle Blai. Drinking white wine and playing music with my friend while watching the street below fill with people going for dinner was my second aha, “maybe I could live here” moment.
The next day, Adam, Lauren and I went to the beach. As we sunbathed topless, swam in the warm, crystal clear water and drank semi-cold beers we bought on the beach, I felt it again. I could live here. It was a good thing I had my flight booked to Naples the next morning, otherwise I might still be on that beach.
The not great part about having my flight booked for Naples was that it left BCN at 7:30am, which meant I had to wake up around 4:30am, which is more or less around the time I had been going to bed. But I was prepared. After our beach party and discovering two completely new and unexplored neighborhoods on the walk home, I cleaned up and packed my bags, so that after sleeping for a few hours I would just have to grab my bags and run for the bus (unlike the rest of my roommates, who it seemed were always packing and unpacking at ungodly hours, ahem).
Ruth, (with the cool balcony above Calle Blai) graciously hosted a jam session house party for Adam and all his Barcelona friends. I played Sweet Home Barcelona, a crowd favorite, and Hotel Barcelona, because this is certainly the type of city where you could check out any time you like, but you can’t ever leave. It sounded better after a few drinks, anyway.
Around 2am, after many besos and abrazos, I left to go back to my hostel for a few hours of sleep before getting the bus. When I got there, my key didn’t work but someone opened the door for me. “The power is out. The locks aren’t working and neither is the AC.” Well, fuck. My dorm room was barely habitable with AC, but not without. I called Adam and asked if I could crash on Ruth’s couch for an hour, grabbed my bags and checked out of the hostel.
I might have dozed off on Ruth’s couch but I don’t think so. Around 3:30am I got up, got dressed, grabbed my bags and headed for the bus station. The city certainly had not gone to sleep by this time, and people were still partying in full force. Strangely, I didn’t feel like partying. I was nervous about going to a new country with a language I don’t speak, to stay in a city I hadn’t heard great things about, on zero hours of sleep.
Somehow I made it through the airport, got on my flight, and woke up on the descent into Naples. I had heard that taxi drivers will rip you off if you don’t set a fixed fee with them, so I wasn’t thrilled to take a taxi, but trying to navigate the bus system seemed more terrible than getting ripped off, so I sprang for a taxi. The taxi driver and I agreed on a set price of 25€ (what my guide book said I shouldn’t pay any more than) even though my driver tried to get me to trust the meter. You just try to rip me off, señori! When we arrived at my hostel, the meter read 14€ and the driver shrugged and said, “ok how about 20€.” I was grateful to him.
I am now in a private room in a nice hostel, and feel like queen of the castle once again. They let me check in early, gave me coffee and said there is a kitchen with food on the second floor. The moment they let me into my room I fell into bed and slept for most of the day.
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