Arriving in Barcelona

It was an early morning start to get to the airport today. My flight wasn’t until 12:30pm, but the couple from Hungary also staying at the B&B generously offered me a ride to the airport.  They were visiting Portugal on vacation, but he also had to spend two days working in Lisbon at a convention.  After my taxi fiasco to/from Obidos, I happily accepted their offer in order to save me from spending another 50 euros and risk the taxi being late.  The Lisbon airport is a Charlie Foxtrot in the way it is set up, security takes forever, plus they bus you about a mile or two (excuse me 1-2 kilometers) to the planes.  Thus, it is imperative that you arrive no later than 2 hours prior to your flight. Thanks to my Hungarian friends, I arrived FOUR hours prior to my departure – something I am almost certain will never happen again – seeing as how I am notorious for being late (pretty much everywhere I go – one of the disadvantages to refusing to wear a watch – sorry).  It was an excellent opportunity to catch up on homework that I have been lagging behind on.

I found a little corner in the airport to hide from incessant noise, the people who pick their noses (aka everyone in Portugal are diggin’ for gold up there somewhere.  Hey – maybe they are so forgetful because they dug too far and gave themselves a damn lobotomy?!), and the mean old women who like to push their way ahead of you in line. No lie!  I have witnessed several people try to butt in front of each other in lines all over the place.  They are usually caught, then everyone in the line yells and makes obscene gestures at them, it is so much fun!  One woman in particular though she could prey on those of us who can’t fling obscenities in Portuguese (how is it even remotely possible I don’t know obscenities in Portuguese?!).  I also know cutting-in-line-Akido and found myself in a shoving contest with an older woman who tried to push past me.  I leveraged my big ass back pack to knock her ass backwards – Booyah!  (Oh, I probably should not be so proud of this fact should I?)

Okay, let’s all pretend I didn’t just write that then.  I must have been using my outside voice again because I was cranky since I was up at the BUTT crack of dawn to ride in a car, to catch a plane, so I could ride a bus, to get on a train, and then jump on the subway, to walk up the GIANT hill to Grandmother’s House we go. The karma from the taxi fiasco definitely caught up with me – because I had the pleasure of sitting directly in front of not one but two “JEFFERIES” on the flight from Lisbon to Barcelona.  If you are too young to know who Jeffrey is, or possibly too much of a Cracker-ass-Cracker (props to Chris Rock), then Google Bill Cosby (before he completely effed up his life by raping women).  Every time I get the tiniest of inklings to have children, the Universe sends a Jeffrey my way and I remember that I do not have the patience, nor the stamina to cope with one.

I guess that about covers offending everyone today, so onto Barcelona!  I arrived at my hostal close to dark, got checked in, then ran down to the Fontana area to grab some dinner (after being told on a number of occasions that I look Lebanese, I finally tried their food.  I can safely say I am not Lebanese – because the food I cook is waaaaaay better than the shite I had.  I ate it all though, because I was hungry enough to eat my own shoe by that point).  Back to the point – the hostal I am staying at used to a Catholic Seminary – and before that a zoo…..My mom also said she needed to take a moment to visualize this, so I will give you one as well………..have you got it yet?  No?!  Visualize Jail.  Surprisingly enough, I have never been, so I can’t truly say for sure, but some of you out there have, so will you let me know – how does my room compare to jail?


I thought at first it was ironic that it looked like jail, but considering it was a Catholic Seminary, but then I though, no probably not – and don’t get your panties in a wad, I was raised Catholic (sort of) so I know that Catholics talk about worship and doing penance as one in the same (here is where I have to stop to appreciate the movie Dogma when it gets pointed out “Catholics do not celebrate their religion, they mourn it” – don’t think so?  Just wait until you see when I post a few more pics, homies).  Good thing I am not planning on spending much time at the hostal though, I have too much old shit and GIANT churches to go see! I want to finish by giving mad props to the couple next door for their serenades (think karaoke with a fat Asian man and his 13-year old prostitute) of Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” to help put me to sleep tonight – what more could a girl ask for really?

Buenos Noches, Amigos!