The one where we arrive in Barcelona
We left Paris this morning by train. The ride was smooth, the first half of the journey was positively delightful on a nice new train. It was nice to relax, read and watch the scenery go by. When I´m rich I´m going to travel around North America in a specially outfitted train car on my whistle stop tour of the major cities as I sell my special growth hormone with the secret formula (hint it´s just boiled Coca-Cola) from the back of the train car at stops along the way.
The second half of the ride was good too, though the train was older and less comfortable. We were sitting across the aisle from a French woman with three kids one of which had either chicken pox or the measles. It was most distressing, since I´m not sure if I´ve had measles. Thankfully, as of two hours after leaving the train I´ve yet to break out in red spots.
Upon reaching Barcelona we realized that we had no idea where the hostel was, at all. We had the address but not directions there from the train station and it was 10 pm. We tried telephoning the hostel but nobody answered, and then Lydia tried asking a man in a red station information jacket. Before I had any idea what was going on he took off with Lydia marching purposefully down the street. At first I figured that he was going to show us to the bus stop to take a bus there, but after about three blocks I figured that was not what was going on. Soon I was worried that he was going to lead us down a dark alley and steal our belongings, or have some accomplices do it.
I mean we walked for about twenty minutes, it was sketchy. Finally he left us with more directions, it turns out he lives in the area near the hostel. Les Rambles is a crowded festive street and even nearing midnight it´s still full of people, street vendors, restaurants and life. Of course I dislike it almost right off the bat. Barcelona so far smells vaguely of vomit and is hotter than Paris. Lydia says it smells like Mexico which makes one future vacation plan easier to make. I miss Vancouver with its cleansing rain, and coolness and lack of all night shenanigans.
Meanwhile my brief burst of internet access I learn both that Ottawa is in the Stanley Cup finals and that someone has had the poor sense to organize a ten year OKM high school reunion for August. This from Ryan Pears:
I'm not sure if you guys have heard anything yet from Chad but right now it looks like the 10 year High School Reunion will be on Aug. 11. It sounds like a houseboat party from 12-3pm and then a party a Jared Herron's house. Or it might be his parents house, which is weird but whatever.
I´m not for or against Jared Herron, having never said two words to him during high school or after, but yeah it´s not quite what I imagined it would be. I might organize a rebel reunion for anyone whose not into the going to Jared Herron´s house and drinking in his parents´ basement like it´s 1996. More on that when I get back, for now fight its bed.