Barcelona Part II

The next morning, we woke up to one of the worst hangovers we’d ever experienced. Back home in Perth, a hangover would mean a Maccas run for breakfast. But because drive thru wasn’t an option, we ended up walking through the main streets of Barcelona in our pyjamas in search of hashbrowns and McMuffins. We walked into McDonald’s with excitement and hunger.
“Hi, do you have hashbrowns?”
“. . . Hash-browns?”
“Yes.”
“. . . No . . .”
I’d never felt so disappointed in my life.

We decided we’d have a nice, relaxing day with Natasha and Rosana. Due to lack of research, we thought a stroll through Park Güell would be a lovely idea. Little did we know, we’d end up hiking up a steep hill of stairs just to get to the park, then ultimately getting lost, starving to death, trying to find the bloody exit, eating a shit meal of pasta, then passing out in the taxi ride home.

Every afternoon, our twelve-person dorm found itself having an unplanned communal nap. So, when we’d woken up from our nap, it was time for another pub crawl. This second pub crawl was quite the adventure. We arrived at the first pub with a mission to avoid the boy I’d been kissing the night before. He seemed to have grown an attachment to me and constantly sent me messages throughout the day, wanting to see me again. I on the other hand, never wanted to see his face again. Let’s face it, no one wants a clinger. Sitting in our Sant Jordi crew, us Australians and New Zealanders, bonded over Mi Goreng and educated those who’d never heard of it. We drank cocktails, met a cocky lawyer and a successful teen in the fashion industry, then it was off for a long walk to the next club.

To be continued . . .