Bustle of Barcelona

Dave and I have been going to market, to market. The Mercat de St Josef on Las Ramblas is a fresh produce market. If you can abide the crowds and smells, it is worth a visit. We discovered a fresh pasta place within the market, Pazzta to Go, which makes its own pasta and fresh meals. You just select a pasta, say almond and ricotta, sausage or spinach, and a sauce like pesto or tomato and they´ll make you a bowl of piping hot pasta. Yummmo! There are heaps of restaurants with the same reheated drudge in Barcelona, so this place is a fresh bite. For one euro, I down a fresh Banana and Strawberry juice from the market and I´m laughing.

Barcelona is pretty overwhelming. Today, our first quite rainy day this trip, we went out to the fantastical imaginative brainchild Park Guell, designed by Gaudi. It features lots of greenery, stone religious monuments and darkly fun mosaic monuments. Dave was impressed with the Hansel and Gretel houses which look like picture book gingerbread abodes, but wasn´t phased on the whole. Perhaps it was the altitude change as the park is high up, but we felt exhausted after this venture out. We had gotten up late this morning, at 11.15, but yet we were still lacklustre. Barcelona is a party girl, and the place is crazy busy all the time. Thus, we´ve decided to spend tomorrow chilling out in order to revive our spirits and sanity.

Yesterday, we learnt of a festival which was occuring in a nearby streets near Le Catedral. We listened to an excellent accordion player with a limited repertoire until his equipment failed and he began to fiddle and exclaim ´Scheitzer!´. Luckily, we found our way around the corner to an uber talented opera singer who entranced us with her sopranic notes.

Meandering back to the hostel, we were almost scammed by two kids claiming to be from the deaf foundation. They thrust a sheet in front of us, and in response to our inquiry as to the cause, pointed simply to something stating a need for a National Deaf foundation. Just sign here, they demanded. We did this, following along the other boxes like postcode etc until we got to donation. They weren´t impressed by a 5euro donation insisting on 20. We walked away, realising that their melodramatic kisses and exclamation of ´Gracias, Gracias´were a well'designed trap.

You can shop till ya drop in Barcelona. Well-behaved we´ve been, with the exception of some small slippages. I got a pretty purple and white checked dress, with a purple tafetta bottom. Dave got a suave black hat, and a long-sleeved black dress shirt from H & M.

Our new hostel, Center Ramblas on Hospital St, is pretty dodge. Ridiculous prices have forced us to leave double rooms behind, and this is our first shared experience. The place is pretty filthy as they don´t seem to regularly clean rooms or change sheets. I am the only girl in a six-bed dorm. We are sharing with a bunch of lovely French boys who are spending time in Barcelona as part of their ´ínternational journey of the holidays.´¨ I slept through all the comings and goings last night, so for me sleep has been pretty good. Dave is shattered though, so as I type, he´s having a nap in the top bunk down the road.

Getting fresh

Enough of the negativity - travelling is too much an amazing experience to dwell on the bad. What did I do to get fresh and rejuvenated? As an interactive reader exercise, here is a short multiple choice quiz on possible activities I embarked upon to clear my mind. Did Erin:

a) throw a tantrum?
b) curl up with a good book?
c) wander the town taking snaps?
d) sink into some retail therapy?
e) grab a cold beverage?

Now, a combination of D + E maketh for a happy Erin. At the Naber cafe, I was initiated into the world of frappes. As a backpacker, I'll never look back. Ordering the frappe over the iced coffee saves me scooping out the cream. Iced coffee minus cream is still divine but not easy to order in foreign countries.

At risk of boring patient readers, I headed to the Galeria shopping centre to grab a bite to eat and hit the shops. Vexing my heavy backpack, I weeded out some crap. Threw out my inappropriate (bum-gazing) jeans. Bought some hot denim shorts instead which will endure the angry sun better. Love em!

As a further justification for my naughty shopping ways I will add that at the hostel Oki Doki, we had a dieing disaster. They offer free washing service which we took advantage of. Our clothes were returned bearing a greyish hue. They'd mingled all the colours. Mum was happy - cream never flattered her anyway but two of my tops were ruined. Also, I just love looking at the gorgeous European fashions. So when I say casually that I did a spot of shopping you'll forgive me. Won't go into the purchases but they made me a happy lady. Ending another frivolous post, I'll save yesterday's day trip for later. Auschwitz was an overwhelming experience deserving a separate post.