I thought the low point of the weekend (Jackie and I traveled to Barcelona for the holiday weekend) was on Friday night. I was sandwiched on the hostel futon between a Brit born in 1991?!!? and a loquacious porn producer (whom looked like he was born in a year more like 1971). Then I met Jack, another Brit and recent Swine Flu survivor. Jack promised he was no longer contagious. I prayed Jack wasn´t the third in our triple dorm room.
I have come to a sad realization: I am too old for the #1 party hostel in Barcelona. And not like a little too old - like get me the hell out of here before I push the girl from Arkansas asking me where to buy hash off of the balcony-old (answer: Placa Reial). Granted it is my fault for not doing much research before booking the hostel.
The city feels pretty much the same as when I studied and lived here six years ago during my sophomore year of college. Oveja Negra is still the tourist bar du jour; Bar Estudantil serves the same cafe con leches; and the fashion is still the same colorful craziness that only the super confident, gorgeous or wackjobs can pull off. The only thing missing is the chirimoyas at the La Boqueria - apparently the amazing fruit is not in season until September. Guess I will have to come back then.
Today is my last day in Barcelona, and I wanted to try to find Pepita & Maria Del Mar, my host family when I lived here. I bet Pepita wouldn´t remember me. She had a lot of exchange students and was not the brightest candle in the menorah (thanks for that one, Jackie). Pepita often forgot my name and things like, serving dinner before midnight, but she was unforgettable. I also wanted to see Alyssa´s host family in the neighboring apartment and find the answers to burning questions such as whether Maria Del Mar found a husband (Pepita´s number one grievance while I was living with her) and what happened to Diego on the telenovela.
However, when I jumped on the Number 9 bus to get to Zona Franca from the University, I realized I somehow lost my wallet (and a shopping bag containing a present for my sister) between getting coffee twenty minutes ago and that moment. Oops. I retraced my steps but no luck. I am now back at the hostel, more grumpy than ever, and canceling my credit cards online. I am an idiot.
At least I only have nine hours until the 11 PM flight back to Budapest.
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