The Adventure

You can imagine that I didn't stay on the event site for very long after this all went down. I wanted to leave immediately, but both Senor Mas Fuerte and Shay Butter Boy convinced me to sleep and see if I wanted to have some more conversations with Brit Boy the next day. So, I did the deed of the dutiful divorcee and moved out of our tent and slept in a Shay Butter Boy's tent, curled up in my faux fur coats for warmth and comfort.

The next day, before we had our final discussions, Brit Boy stated that he was trying to help out and coordinate a way for me to get off site the next day with some friends of his. I looked at him and said, "I'm catching a train in roughly two hours and will make my own way home. The time for you to be concerned about my travel arrangements is now over." I know he was trying to be helpful, but no. His participation was longer necessary.

Senor Mas Fuerte and Shay Butter Boy drove me to the train station (before which we stopped in the town of Seriňena and had a few nice cold beers and some lovely tapas) and saw me off. I was headed to Zaragoza for the night. What was I gonna do? Where was I gonna stay? No clue. I just knew that I had to get away from the place where Brit Boy was.

As luck would have it, I met someone from Austin on the train to Zaragoza. He and his travel partner were staying in a rather nice, they claimed, hostel and invited me to come along. I did and I really enjoyed hanging with them. After we got to the hostel, which was rather nice I must say, we ventured out for more cold beer, some food, and to just see what the nightlife of Zaragoza consisted of.

Well, it doesn't consist of much. At least not close to where we were staying. We found a nice sidewalk cafe, got some mediocre food (I finally got my paella, as disappointing as it was), and had a grand time revelling in the surliness of our waitress. When we asked for some mustard ("Tienes mostaza?") she felt it necessary to correct our accent, for since we were Americans we did not have the correct accent for Spain. "Mothtaaaaaaaza," she repeated back to us. "Mosthtaaza," we repeated. "No!! Mothtaaaaaaaaaaaaaaza," she said, more loudly and more slowly. Content that she had "learned us good" she turned and ventured off to get the mothtaaaaaaaaaza.

The next day, we did a little bit of sight-seeing before I boarded another train to Barcelona. I have to say, I was impressed with my ability to communicate with the Spanish, even though I didn't have the correct accent. I speak Tex-Mex Spanish, not Casitilian Spanish, so it was a little challenging, but I made it work. I'm sure I sounded like the tourists to America that ask questions like, "Do you have the knowledge of how I can obtain the information of how to get to the station of the train?" Well, they understood what I wanted and we were able to communicate. However, I do remember that in one shop I was looking for some tea and the lady kept asking if I wanted coffee. I know very well that I was asking properly. Perhaps she just couldn't imagine anyone not wanting coffee.

It was in Barcelona that I caught a plane to London so that I could catch my return flight home. I must say that I was a little disappointed that I couldn't spend more time in Barcelona, as it was absolutely beautiful and so intriguing. When I did get into the city, I quickly went to the airport, got a flight, checked in my bags, and then buggered off back into the city for what little bit of sight-seeing I could squeeze in. This turned out to be a 90-minute whirlwind of a retail therapy shopping spree (ahem.... global economic stimulation trip) in the shops surrounding the Plaza del Catalunya.

It was FABULOUS. Beautiful people, beautiful architecture, wonderful foods to sample. It was grand. As I was finishing up my spree and heading back to catch the bus back to the airport I saw it. Something I hadn't seen before, and I really have no idea how I missed it. H&M. In Barcelona. "Do I have time squeeze in ONE more shop?" I was thinking to myself. "It is H&M. In Barcelona. When will you get this chance again?"

I darted in... ran up three flights of stairs (completely ignoring the pain in my left ankle from falling into the ditch two days prior) and started shopping frenetically. In and out in a total of 15 minutes. I simply saw cute things, checked the size, and grabbed. "Hey, if they don't fit me, I have lots of friends that I can gift these to!" (Umm... they all pretty much fit. So I'm good)

As I was almost speed-walking across the plaza to the bus stop (I saw the bus rounding one corner of the plaza as soon as I stepped out of H&M) this cute Spaniard and I make eye contact as we're walking toward one another. We hold eye contact. He smiles. I smile. We turn our heads to maintain eye contact as we pass one another. After a couple of steps I stop and turn around. He has done the same, then cocks his head to one side, and deepens his smile. I look at him. I turn and look over my shoulder to see my bus arriving. I look back at him, shrug my shoulders, and tap my fingers on my wrist to say, "I have no time." He nods, continues to smile, and we turn away from one another.

I catch my bus, catch my flight, and head back to London to catch my flight home the next day.