Barcelona (some art shots)

So we arrived in Barcelona tired, hungry and low on funds. We walked our way around the Placa Catalunya, up the Ramblas, down the Ramblas, around the Ramblas before finding the correct street and the wrongly labelled hostel. In a film, that would've been the cue for flashing lights and eerie music. And like the movies, we ignored the signs because we'd already paid for our beds, 75 euro for three nights, more than the hotel in Madrid.

We were greeted by a hostel where:
1. you pay 5 euro extra for a sheet that triples as a pillowcase and a blanket
2. the windows don't open, the fans don't work, and you wake up at 3am sticking to yourself in the 40c heat
3. nobody mans the front desk; instead the staff lock themselves in the kitchen and smoke pot while you bang on the door
waiting to check in
4. there's one toilet for thirty people
5. there's vomit in the bidet and a shower with super skinny shimmy space

On the second flight of stairs, after waiting 45 minutes to check in, I threw my first and only tantrum of the trip.

Seven hours later, after sleepless sleep, Natasha and I headed out for espresso and the sights. Barcelona redeemed itself.

in the gothic quarter

Cobi, the Barcelonan Olymic mascot

memorial to world war veterans
watch out for men in capes stealing children?

More photos of our 2.5 days in Barca to come.