Arrival

    “Wow, that’s a lot of luggage… It’ll be fun carrying it up the stairs. Good, it’s only to the second floor,” said a landlord who I and my friend met next to our apartment building in Barcelona. With those words he opened the front door and walked up the stairs, leaving us on our own with our 6 huge bags. “Wow, that’s a warm welcome. Am I already allowed to conclude that all Spanish people are rude and shameless? Good, it’s only to the second floor,” I thought and started carrying my luggage up the stairs, regretting I brought too much. The landlord was right, it was fun, with the 3rd bag I already made a list of stuff I could’ve left at home…

    After some boring paperwork, my friend and I gave our apartment a quick look and with content, we proceeded outside to explore our neighborhood. We found the area adorable: narrow Spanish streets with colorful freshly washed laundry hanging from the balconies. Our street leads right to the Barceloneta beach.

     We were full of emotions, but we were starving because all the restaurants were closed due to siesta! But we loved that fact as well because it seemed so Spanish, so we patiently kept looking for an open restaurant. Finally, we found one by the beach: “Una mesa para dos, por favor”. “Would you like an English menu?” the waiter immediately recognized us as tourists. Deep down we wanted to say “no” to practice our Spanish, but we said “yes” for some reason. I ordered some grilled shrimps, and those were not bad. However, my stomach did not think so. I got food poisoning… And spent a sleepless night in a bathroom. In the morning I couldn’t even go to the orientation. I stayed home with some medicine my friend managed to get for me with her high school Spanish. 

    So here I am, laying on my bed, in our amazing apartment by the beach, I hear children playing soccer outside, I hear the clinking of glasses in a cafe nearby, I imagine people drinking sangria after a day spent tanning on a beach...  And I get a text from my friend “I think my credit card was stolen”. I’ve heard so much about pickpocketing here, so I’m not even surprised.

    I’m frustrated. I’m trying to recall a distant memory of us being in New York and dreaming about Barcelona. We could spend hours talking about eating fresh peaches on our own balcony, biking to class, and doing homework on Barceloneta… 

    Meanwhile, I’m still here, on my bed, suffering from stomach-ache and googling “The cheapest flights Barcelona - New York. ASAP. One way”.

    No, I did not give up. I felt better soon enough and after renting a bike, I stopped at the local market to get some peaches for our balcony, because I knew my friend would be happy to share those with me when she returns from the post office, where she’s picking up her new credit card. We’ll go to the beach to do our homework afterward.