Barcelona

I finally got out of Madrid.

Got the crappiest seat selection on the train getting to Barcelona. Normally I specifically ask for a window seat, but the guy that sold me my reservation was really cute, and mundane details like that slip my mind when I'm around cute boys.

Anyway, 3 seperate people got the window seat that I didn't ask for and so at Zaragoza, Lleida and Camp Tarragona I had to turn down my music, smile, pretend I understood Spanish (I am DEFINITELY taking Spanish lessons when I get home) and shuffle into the aisle so they could take the seat I coveted.

I ended up watching Alvin and the Chipmunks, which was on the on-train entertainment. Unlike my Madrid to Sevilla trip, this time it actually had English subtitles and so as long as I watched the TV and not the Spanish countryside whipping past at 300 Km/hr I got the gist of the movie.

I left Johann in Madrid. Actually, I left Johann standing on the platform at the Atocha Renfe metro station while the doors of the Metro train refused to open for me, and the 2 Boulder hippies just laughed about how I was fated to remain in Madrid forever.

He just shrugged and watched the train pull away while I wrestled with the door.

Bonne Chance, my South African friend!

(PS. Stop talking to yourself in Afrikaans, you silly boy.. the Scots in the dorm last night thought you were maybe a little soft in the head.)

The absolutely coolest thing about the train to Barcelona is that you're flying at this ridiculously fast land speed, and you come barrelling through a tunnel, exit, glance to your left and see whitewashed houses lining the shore of the Med and a dozen yachts floating around. Then another tunnel. Repeat.

It's such a tease, but my breath still caught a little everytime that it happened.

2 days here and then onto Nice, Cannes and Monte Carlo, Monaco. Now doesn't that sound like fun?