At exactly 11:05 a.m. I arrive in BCN. At home in boring Alice, Texas it is 4:05 a.m. My first impression of BCN outside of the airport was that it reminded me of Mexico City. I suppose it was the mountains, and the colors. It was bright, sunny, and loud. The airport was in the "Industrial" part of the city. Not much to see really except for the magnificent Pyrenees. I took the local bus to the Plaça de Catalunya. When I got off the bus it was chaos really. Hundreds of people with their suitcases in tow. I knew the place I was staying at was close by, but not so close that I didn't get lost. I wondered about with my 20ish pound bag on my shoulder for about an hour before I found my hotel. The place was fantastic. I had the most amazing view of the Passig de Gracia. The room was filled wth antiques, red velvet curtains that draped on the marble floor. I collapsed on the bed and stared at the twinkling chandelier above, and I knew I was home, even if it was temporary.
A few hours later I went to explore BCN. My first stop, the Gothic Quarter. I got lost in the shops. The place was lined with vendors and Vespas. I then went back to the Plaça de Catalunya and found a Sephora, which incredibly was bigger than the one in Times Square, NYC. I had to stock up on necessities I left behind at home. It was now time for siesta before dinner, I went to my mini Palace to chillax until my friend arrived.
11 p.m. my friend and I headed up to Citrus on Passeig de Gracia. The food was OK, but the Sangria was fantastic.
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