Welcome to Spain
Wow. It is amazing all the everyday things that we do so simply and take for granted. Showing up in a new country alone is really a trip. Just finding an internet café is a job in itself.
Let´s back up. I spent my last day in the states on Wed. Sept. 28, 2005. However fast I ran, it didn´t seem as though I would get everything done, and alas, I left a lot for my boyfriend, Corbin, to clean up, (thanks, hun) but at least I caught my plane. All flights on time, no problem. I had a few hour layover in London Heathrow, which I passes stretching in some vacant terminal until I got kicked out. I was so hungry but i didn´t have any pounds and didn´t want to convert money when i would only be there for a couple hours. i survived.
I met a nice German guy, Leo, on the plane from London to Barcelona, which encouraged me to reach out a little more. I guess the difference was that he spoke perfect english. We had planned to have dinner in Barcelona, but his luggage got lost, so he told me to go on ahead of him. It was good I did or I would have had a harder time finding a place for the night, as it was already nearly 9pm.
So, standing in the Barcelona airport with a cart full of luggage and not a soul in the country that was expecting me, I began to dig through my Barcelona guide book to find a hotel. But making a phone call requires a phone card which requires Euros, and I still hadn´t eaten since the San Francisco airport...
I finally got on the phone with a hotel person and although talking in spanish for something as basic as a room isn´t so bad, understanding their really fast castillian spanish was another story. She told me she had no room but recommended a friend´s hotel. Oh great. I couldn´t understand the name or address but at least got the phone number. I called him. He said he had room, but I couldn´t understand him and didnt want to get lost in the night, looking for some alleged hotel that i couldn´t find because i was too proud to say i didnt´understand. Finally I told him to hold and asked a nearby person for help. Unfortunately, he didnt speak engish or spanish but his girlfriend did so she got on the phone and translated for me. The little piece of information she picked up that i didn´t was that if i wanted this room, i had to arrive by 10pm. It was 9:30 and the bus station was in another terminal. Scratch the bus, i´d have to pay for a taxi.
I found the sign for taxi and the line was at least 100 people long. It just can´t be that hard, can it? I just had to laugh, but i waited in line.
Well, the taxi driver got me to this little hotel on the 4th floor by 9:55 pm. (actually, he got me down the street, and lugging all my stuff the last block was a funny scene--barbara, without your rolling suitcases, i´d probably still be pulling my other bag, thanks).
I am lucky because the room is only 20 euros per night, which is cheaper than some hostels around here. no frills, and no pillows, but hey, a bed is good.
I slept for 12 hours, not because i was really that tired, but i had no clock and there are no windows so i couldn´t tell if it was morning or night. i kept waking up and just telling myself it was the middle of the night. finally i heard someone moving around and by the time i got out of the hotel, it was 10:30am. oh well.
So here I am, in the Las Ramblas district, looking as American as they come with China Red hair and skin so pale I might as well be from Ireland.
The dialect is harder to understand than i expected, but I´ll learn.
It´s just tripping me out how life can change so fast. I was just at work in the US, with a house and boyfriend and family 2 days ago, and now i am here, homeless, friendless and unemployed, unable to communicate and unsure of what to do next. But I feel good and free and alive and I do know that good things will come and life is an advenure.
Emails are always welcome at munigirl@ekit.com
Until next time, have a blast!
Let´s back up. I spent my last day in the states on Wed. Sept. 28, 2005. However fast I ran, it didn´t seem as though I would get everything done, and alas, I left a lot for my boyfriend, Corbin, to clean up, (thanks, hun) but at least I caught my plane. All flights on time, no problem. I had a few hour layover in London Heathrow, which I passes stretching in some vacant terminal until I got kicked out. I was so hungry but i didn´t have any pounds and didn´t want to convert money when i would only be there for a couple hours. i survived.
I met a nice German guy, Leo, on the plane from London to Barcelona, which encouraged me to reach out a little more. I guess the difference was that he spoke perfect english. We had planned to have dinner in Barcelona, but his luggage got lost, so he told me to go on ahead of him. It was good I did or I would have had a harder time finding a place for the night, as it was already nearly 9pm.
So, standing in the Barcelona airport with a cart full of luggage and not a soul in the country that was expecting me, I began to dig through my Barcelona guide book to find a hotel. But making a phone call requires a phone card which requires Euros, and I still hadn´t eaten since the San Francisco airport...
I finally got on the phone with a hotel person and although talking in spanish for something as basic as a room isn´t so bad, understanding their really fast castillian spanish was another story. She told me she had no room but recommended a friend´s hotel. Oh great. I couldn´t understand the name or address but at least got the phone number. I called him. He said he had room, but I couldn´t understand him and didnt want to get lost in the night, looking for some alleged hotel that i couldn´t find because i was too proud to say i didnt´understand. Finally I told him to hold and asked a nearby person for help. Unfortunately, he didnt speak engish or spanish but his girlfriend did so she got on the phone and translated for me. The little piece of information she picked up that i didn´t was that if i wanted this room, i had to arrive by 10pm. It was 9:30 and the bus station was in another terminal. Scratch the bus, i´d have to pay for a taxi.
I found the sign for taxi and the line was at least 100 people long. It just can´t be that hard, can it? I just had to laugh, but i waited in line.
Well, the taxi driver got me to this little hotel on the 4th floor by 9:55 pm. (actually, he got me down the street, and lugging all my stuff the last block was a funny scene--barbara, without your rolling suitcases, i´d probably still be pulling my other bag, thanks).
I am lucky because the room is only 20 euros per night, which is cheaper than some hostels around here. no frills, and no pillows, but hey, a bed is good.
I slept for 12 hours, not because i was really that tired, but i had no clock and there are no windows so i couldn´t tell if it was morning or night. i kept waking up and just telling myself it was the middle of the night. finally i heard someone moving around and by the time i got out of the hotel, it was 10:30am. oh well.
So here I am, in the Las Ramblas district, looking as American as they come with China Red hair and skin so pale I might as well be from Ireland.
The dialect is harder to understand than i expected, but I´ll learn.
It´s just tripping me out how life can change so fast. I was just at work in the US, with a house and boyfriend and family 2 days ago, and now i am here, homeless, friendless and unemployed, unable to communicate and unsure of what to do next. But I feel good and free and alive and I do know that good things will come and life is an advenure.
Emails are always welcome at munigirl@ekit.com
Until next time, have a blast!
posted by Louise Lovelle @ 5:10 AM
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