backfired

going to barcelona was babushka's idea. i would basically go anywhere and didn't even know what barcelona was about, even though i wanted to study architecture after high school. let's just say that babushka was the more intellectual of the two and was keen on getting the most out of her time abroad. we made an agreement, she would direct daytime activities and i would be in charge of nighttime excursions. my brilliant idea, to reduce accommodation costs, was to stay at a hostel every other night and go clubbing on non-hostel nights. in order to achieve this, we packed light, so light that i didn't even take my glasses because the case took up too much space.

we took a night train from nice, complete with sketchy characters, took turns sleeping/guarding, and arrived at barcelona in the morning. walking up the steps from the underground train station, the first thing i saw was antoni gaudí's casa batlló (http://www.casabatllo.es) on passeig de gràcia. it came as a complete surprise to me, as i had not done any research on barcelona, and i was instantly captivated by the city. we spent the day sightseeing and that night, slept on one of the thirty or so, miraculously bug-free, bunk beds that made up the female section of the grimy pensión colón, near las ramblas.

the next evening, we had a nice dinner at a restaurant and, during dessert, took turns visiting the restroom, from which we emerged transformed, eager to dance the night away. my informal daytime investigation led us to the backfire, a benevolent club that opened its doors without asking for i.d.'s and let us store our small backpacks behind the bar, on which a masked couple in black leather thongs and six-inch platform shoes were dancing. by dawn, we were up there with them, having the time of our lives. when the club closed, we claimed our sacs, changed into our regular clothes again, and started another full day of sightseeing. we rested frequently on benches and ate many popsicles to keep our energy levels up. i actually fell asleep with my chin poised on a soda cup at the mcdonald's right outside gaudí's sagrada familia (http://www.sagradafamilia.org).

towards the end of our five day trip, during which i never removed my contacts, not even for sleeping, one of my eyes became red and teary. i eventually had to throw the lenses out to let my eye rest, which was inconvenient, as i can't really see well beyond my nose. at the train station, babushka placed me and our things near a vending machine and told me to wait there, while she got our tickets. i decided to get something from the machine, and had to press my face against the glass to see what it offered and squint to see what letter/number combination to key in. when babushka came back and saw what i was munching, she remarked, "i thought you hated maltesers".
i had intended to buy a kit kat bar.