2005-11-24

Part 2... I know you've been waiting!

Well, first things first. I just got a guilt email from my mom about not updating my journal. Shit.

1. I'm in Scotland. Surprised? So am I.

2. I just realized what a shitty journal job I've been doing since illness festival 2005. I've missed telling you about entire cities! Provinces! People! Since Barcelona at the beginning of November, I've done and gone to alot more places than I've let on. Now that I'm starting to feel a bunch better, we're going to have to go back and update and fill you in on the rest of everything I've done. I mean, I'm not saying that I've included everything I've done this whole time, that would be the world's giantest lie, but theres some majors that you need to be informed of.

And now! I am officially bringing you Part Two, but I think we shall relabel it something clever, like... 'Barcelona times three'. Or 'In Barcelona I Did Cool Stuff And Met A Canadian And A Guy In A Van Named Stefan And Hung Out With Him Alot.' Or Combining all that into Barcanadiefan. Clever, ain't I? Garsh dang it, I am!

As I am sure you are now asking yourself, 'Nikki, who is Stefan, The Canadian and why are you trying to do something stupid like combine it with the city of Barcelona? Who are you?'

Before I explain this to your curious little minds, I must first complete Part 1.

I got retardedly lost in the absolute boonies of Barcelona to the point that when I asked two women for directions they looked at me like I was nuts, as though to say, 'Gran Via Avenue??? WHY on EARTH would you be asking where that is from HERE? You're closer to Scandinavia than you are to Roger Llucia (err, something) Street! You're a nutter for even asking directions!' So yes, two hours later I found my place to stay, after honestly considering sleeping in the street atleast twice. I actually started looking for a tree I could crash under. But the hostel is actually great, dispite the fact they apparently don't want anyone to find it. Who is retarded enough to translate the names of the streets into English in their directions?? WHO? But anyways... They had free internet... and... wait for it...

they DID my laundry.

You read that correctly. They washed it for me.

Then they put it in a dryer that ended up taking 7 hours, and, I think, making my clothes wetter, but I mean... THEY DO YOUR LAUNDRY FOR FREE!

So my first day in Barcelona (again) was spent attempting to make myself well, trying to get a hold of Alberto (which happened but didn't really work, and it's perfectly fine with me-- he needed some alone time, I think) and sitting about in a white skirt, no bra and a bright lime green lacy singlette thing... the two items that WEREN'T in the laundry, spinning their little hearts out for 7 hours in the 'Some How It's Getting Wetter Unexplicably' Dryer. Needless to say, I didn't leave the hostel to the cold depths of Barcelona looking like that.

As I'm sure you remember, my last entry told you to be excited. Very excited.

Which you better still be, or else I'm just going to be plain disappointed.

But it was that evening that I hung out with someone who shot to new heights of awesome at a rapid speed on this trip! The, so far, elusive Stefan. And soon, my children, I will tell you why. Get your eye patches ready.

...thats what i said. :D

So anyways, that night I agreed to meet Stefan for some coffee, once of course, my clothes were dry. That time never came, so eventually I had to leave. I know this sounds like I went naked, which isn't true, dispite all of your inner fantasies regarding my nudity. I went in damp clothes. Beautiful.

Coffee turned into food... Mexican food.

in spain.
i ate mexican food in spain in a restaurant with flip flops and voo doo dolls on the walls.

Needless to say, weird, very weird.

But DELICIOUS!

Mexican food turned into wandering around until about 330am. I think I drank Barcelona's supply of small bottled water, and ended up in some really cool places by following Stefan, who has been living in BCN for two months. But I'm holding out the real awesome part. And no, it's not because we saw the woman with the ice cream cone statue again.

He took me to a pirate bar.

You read it correctly. PIRATE. BAR.

I had kind of let it slip that I loved pirates (you know, the birthday partys, that kind of thing) but I don't know if Stefan was prepared for my reaction to the pirate bar.... that being PURE UNDENIABLE JOY TIMES EIGHTY BAJILLION. Pirates and pirate accessories and wench barmaids and dim lights from chandelleers and parrots and peter pan and AWESOME. I could have died in there and just felt as though my life is complete. Infact, I think my life is complete. I can't even continue talking about it because I'm getting so bloody excited.

And across the street.... another pirate bar.

Barcelona is my heaven.

And I was asked all these pirate related questions making me feel like a pirate expert and it was really hard to fight the urge to say things like 'ahar!' and 'shiver me timbers, matey.'

And then, after a couple more places and a lot of walking, we headed down to the sea for a little bit.

Only to discover a right pirate-y looking ship! Right on the port! Looking awesome and full of rope (which just plain facinated and amazed Stefan). We admired the ship of dreams for a bit and continued on our wander and coffee mission, which ended up lasting until the wee hours and covering a significant bit of Barcelona downtown ground.

You can see why I said Stefan shot up the favourite person top five list, can't you? Pirates, ships, treating me to the obscurity of mexican food in Spain... have I mentioned pirates? And talking to me about pirates. A lot. And not even making fun of me because of my love of pirates.

SO!

The next day in Barcelona I spent hanging out with a Canadian from Toronto. We had some cultural differences and rivalries and proved to be really hilarious, and we had a really good time, even if he does really like the Maple Leafs. Theres not much to say there other than the fact that he's the most immature (acting and looking) 30 year old man that I've ever seen--- it's like he's 13 years old. I was amazed.

That night Stefan and I went out... but first had to fix the flat tire that had appeared. Shit. So after wheeling a tire down the streets of Barcelona, getting ripped off by the 24 hour tire place (thank god though that it existed!) and learning how to change a tire, we finally were able to get on our way to dinner. And we were some hungry monkies.

We went to Villa Olympica, and tried one bar for dinner. Of course they didn't serve us AT ALL for 20 minutes, waiting it out to be 12 and tell us that the kitchen was closed. Bitches, I tell you. By this time, I think both of us were getting to the point where were were even grumpy hungry. You know that kind, when you're so hungry that you can't even stand talking. We found a place down the beach that was so cool I really shouldn't have been in there, and i ate my face right off. Oh man.. the chicken... just... so... good. I'm fantasizing about it right now. So with full bellies and wet feet (i had gotten run over big time by a wave all over my feetsies before dinner) we wandered down the beach and hung out on the coolest thing ever for the rest of the night--- a huge rope effel tower looking sculpture thing. Good times ensued.

After absolutely wasting the entire next day sleeping and doing nothing, that next evening Stefan went to drop me off at the hostel... to discover another bloody flat tire! The other rear wheel! Dammit. So by that time Stefan was pro, and really, i'm useless, so I went to got my stuff at the hostel ready for the next days departure and Stefan got the spare tire on there. Later it was time to get some dinner, and suddenly, we were in the same situation as the night before. Mirages of food were actually appearing before me. Bread that was found in the street actually looked edible and the more that we walked, the more I just wanted to go back and eat it. So hungry!

We finally found a place that ushered us right in.... probably because we were actually standing outside the window peering in with mouths watering, watching to see whether the waiter at the only occupied table was clearing glasses, or infact giving them. The result was giving glasses and we found ourselves in a restaurant that was actually open... I ate too much food.

I was tired. We went to sleep. Two flat tires is defeating, i tell you, even when it's not your house they are on. Ha! House!

ANYWAYS. The next morning I went and packed up my things, got everything all organized for the big trip to Scotland and Stefan was kind enough to drive me to the airport. Once we got to the airport, it was an adventure to find a parking spot, let me tell you, AND I couldn't find my check in desk. Apparently the company that I flew with has been outlawed entirely from the main check in desks, so they've exiled it to the boonies of the airport. Finally we found it, mostly thanks to Stefan because I was too chicken to ask anybody for directions. We said good bye and it was strangely sad, and I headed on my way to the land of possible snow and chilly temperatures.

So I got into Scotland two nights go, and Mrs. McGuire was even nice enough to pick me up at the airport... I like her. AND she a big pot of chicken soup!! She's officially better than Patrick. I fell asleep pretty soon after arriving to Pat's, even after sleeping the ENTIRE flight!
Like... I didn't even see take off folks. I was out like a light within two minutes of sitting in that seat. And according to the sweet Scottish woman next to me, I was also snoring immediately. Delightful.

Yesterday was really chill. Patrick's got a new job and so he's been training in Ireland and Glasgow. I spent yesterday going to the doctor (i got blood work done and a chest x ray, got treated by the sweetest doctor ever, and they didn't charge me because I am 'nicole cescon, official temporary resident, girlfriend of patrick mcguire' in the Scottish medical system. Yesssssss.... so we find out the results in a week, she's not really sure whats up) and just doing nothing. I figured out my iPod and got to see all my photos actually big for the first time, which is SO exciting that it hurts. I went for a run and lazed about. I did something else that was actually substantial, but really I can't remember for the life of me.

So anyways! Yeah, thats been about it. Today I did pretty much the same, went for a run, which felt fantastic. Word has it my butt is getting smaller, so I have decided I should take advantage of the situation and see if I can make it continue to diminish in size with a little effort. Because I know you were just asking yourself about the size of my bum. I didn't want to leave you with unanswered questions.

The moral of this story is:

I'm feelin better. I'm on my way to recovery. Of the fullest!
I'm loving Scotland. I love just even wandering this place. It makes me *so* happy.
I had fun in Barcelona, didn't get to meet up with Alberto, but I'm alright with that.
Met a nice man in a van. (hahaha, it's just the van thing makes me laugh so much)
I had a sweet curry last night. mmmmm. delicious. and naan bread... oh man.
I leave Scotland on Monday to make my way to Amsterdam with a little fun side trip probably to parts unknown.
I'm sad to be leaving Europe.
But I'm *really* running out of money.
I think I'm going balder.
I think I'm getting more immature.
Tomorrow is lovefish day! SCORE!
Life is pretty good. I'm getting ready to come home, though, to have my own bed and a beautiful long long long long soak in the huge tub. Mmmmm.

Lovies to all of you. Sorry for not updating. Miss you all lots! I can't believe I'm still gone!
PHOTOS TO COME!!!

Love.

love, nicole 6:20 p.m.

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