- Prologue: Trouble Returns From Travels
- Volume I: Getting To Poland – 30 Hours Of Delays, Kissing-Ass, And Getting Drunk In Airports
- Volume II: The First Night In Poland, Selling Strip Club Tickets
- Volume III: Getting Yadstopped
- Volume IV: Where Is Alpha Dwarf?
- Volume V: The Wroclaw Dash
- Volume VI: “I-So-Would” Go To London
- Volume VII: The First Solo Dolo Day
- Volume VIII: To The Top
- Volume XI: Barcelona, First Of The Worst
My second day in Barcelona consisted of being stuck in my apartment due to pouring rain, and then another unsuccessful night out at the clubs. Hence, Volume X combines days two and three of Barcelona into one post.
And truthfully, I really did nothing the second day. I wrote this post, read a book, and cooked pasta in my apartment. Exciting shit, isn’t it? I did go out for the night when the rain finally ceased, only for it to start downpouring about twenty minutes after I left. Seething at how much I hated Barcelona, I called it a night and hoped that the projected sunny skies for the next day held up. Thankfully, they did.
Wanting to see the entire city, I decided it would be worth to hop on another one of the tour bus services, like I did in London. And thank goodness I enjoyed it, or else these Barcelona posts might have been even worse than they already are.
One of the first stops was the breathtaking La Sagrada Familia – which, if you didn’t know, has been under construction for over a hundred fucking years.
(Yes, Wikipedia is a valid source, mofos)
The Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família (Catalan pronunciation: [səˈɣɾaðə fəˈmiɫiə]; English: Basilica and Expiatory Church of the Holy Family), is a large Roman Catholic church in Barcelona,Spain, designed by Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí (1852–1926). Although incomplete, the church is a UNESCO World Heritage Site,[5] and in November 2010 Pope Benedict XVI consecrated and proclaimed it aminor basilica,[6][7][8] as distinct from a cathedral which must be the seat of a bishop. Construction of Sagrada Família had commenced in 1882, Gaudí became involved in 1883,[5] taking over the project and transforming it with his architectural and engineering style, combining Gothic and curvilinear Art Nouveau forms. Gaudí devoted his last years to the project, and at the time of his death at age 73 in 1926 less than a quarter of the project was complete.[9] Sagrada Família’s construction progressed slowly, as it relied on private donations and was interrupted by the Spanish Civil War, only to resume intermittent progress in the 1950s. Construction passed the midpoint in 2010 with some of the project’s greatest challenges remaining[9] and an anticipated completion date of 2026, the centenary of Gaudí’s death.
Pictures don’t do it justice. I actually do regret not booking a tour of the inside ahead of time. One look at the line though me to remain an Atheist.
From there, we wandered around town, hitting up the FC Barcelona futbol stadium, and then wandering to the top of Barcelona, where the palace and Olympic Stadium lie.
We ended the bus tour with a view overlooking the port. My grandparents are actually taking a cruise out of Barcelona next week, so it was neat to see where exactly they would be.
After my excursion for the day, I was determined to avenge the last two shitty nights of partying, and leave Barcelona with a bang. I donned my best blazer and headed out to the biggest tourist nightlife hotspot, right on the beach – featuring all of the exclusive clubs. I made sure to put my name on all of the guest lists. This is what “Clubbing Row” looks like during the day:
The night started off good enough. I started with a couple of gin and tonics in a little lounge, and the bartender turned out to be from San Francisco, which is only about two hours from where I grew up. It was fun to hear about his experience living in Barcelona for the last two years, and he had concluded many of the same things as me (food overrated, expensive, dirty, etc). At least I wasn’t the only snob in Barcelona. At about midnight, I headed down to the actual clubs, with their beachfront entrances. I simply walked right into Sako, and was met with a disgusting realization.
Barcelona nightlife tourism spots is just like fucking Las Vegas.
This means there’s four guys for every girl, drinks cost $15 a pop, and it is completely overrated. Oh, and there were a lot of faggots around.
At 2:30, I called it a night. I was tired of overpriced drinks and watching dudes kiss each other. I had another early flight, so I shuffled myself on to the late night metro and bowed my head in disappointment. The entire reason I had gone to Barcelona was because I wanted to party into the wee hours. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be, due to many reasons – my bad attitude, bad logistics, the area, and more.
But I managed to smile to myself, because I had done it. I had at least tried and failed at running solo in Barcelona. It wasn’t a city I meshed with, and that’s okay – there were two new beautiful cities right around the corner.