Ola Barthelona

I´m in a new country once again - traveling Europe is crazy like that, the way you can go from one country to another in the blink of an eye (or in the chug of a train). We caught our train out of Marseille with no problems, setting out into the countryside of Southern France almost on time. It was pretty sweet speeding through the landscape this time, as we passed by a number of gorgeous little towns dominated (as they tend to be on this continent) by church steeples, and got a good taste of the countryside, seeing some black Camargue bulls and (to my excitement) a few Camargue horses.

Our transfer in Montpellier was seamless - our new train was at the platform directly across from where we disembarked - and soon we were on a train that was straight out of the 70s, all brown and mustard yellow with a few distinctly loose screws. Thankfully there was a snack bar-car, so both of us were able to refuel (since the Montpellier stop didn´t give us time for food). I went up to get food first while Max stayed with the luggage, and as I attempted to order/eat my sandwich this strange older man (who appeared to be a railway employee) started talking to me in heavily accented French mixed with broken English. He wasn´t making much sense (and since I´m awkward in such situations I was mostly trying to ignore him), but at one point another employee walked by and the first guy (who was missing one finger on his right hand) started to tell me all about the parrots this other porter owned. The best part was when Finger-Missing-Guy told me (paraphrased), "my friend here has parrots in his house, I have the birds in my head [insert hand gestures indicating brain-birds here]." I finally escaped back to my seat, warned Max about the dangers of procuring a sandwich and settled in to read and listen to music the rest of the way to Spain.

The moment we crossed the border was almost magical, as the Very French architecture suddenly switched to such wonders as Spanish Gothic cathedrals and warmly stuccoed buildings. I also saw a windmill perched up on a hill just before we crossed the border, making me think of Quixote (whose name I probably mispelled).

We arrived in Barcelona around 22:00 and realized we had to tackle the Metro to get to our hostel. While entering the station we saw the first theft of the trip - a youngish guy (we guessed gr.12 or so) made the mistake of putting his little backpack down, and it was snatched before he even knew what happened. Now we know to be extra careful entering the Metro - it was a pretty scary thing to witness.

Thankfully we got ourselves to the hotsel without a hitch, and got settled in to our cramped but clean room. Today´s going to be a relatively calm day, as I´m feeling quite burned out and need a break from sightseeing. This place has a laundry room, so I think I´ll wash all my clothes (man do they need it...no more being a smelly backpacker!) and then keep on reading my current book, a biography of Peggy Guggenheim (whose art collection we saw in Venice).

Hopefully I´ll have something more interesting and Barcelonian to talk about tomorrow.