My first day in Barcelona- and in Europe, actually- began with quite the startle. At around 7 am, I was awoken from my peaceful slumber by a booming vibration. Now, this wasn’t a gentle hum that allowed me to drift out of dreamland. No, this was as sudden as a gunshot. Startled and completely discombobulated, I sat up straight and paused for about 5 seconds to figure out where I was, what was happening, and why I wasn’t still sleeping. BARCELONA!!! I immediately reached over and cracked open the shades, letting a strong beam of light into our pitch black room- quickly, of course, as Lauren was still sleeping. To my surprise, no Barcelona! I pressed my face as close as it could get to the cabin window, wayyyy on the side to see if there was any land in the distance. Nope, still just ocean. Hmph. Back to sleep.
At 8, my alarm went off and this time we really were here! The plan was to meet up at breakfast at 8, then wait for our *early dismissal* (for getting 3rd in the Amazing Race). I put on my cute sundress…and then the awkward money belt around my waist under it. Didn’t feel so cute anymore…
Breakfast was pretty good- lots of bacon for protein! Actually, for some reason this morning I was on bacon craving overload. I legitimately had about 15 pieces…and wanted more. And I had 3 egg whites! Protein, protein, protein!
Here’s the process of docking and getting off of the ship: when the ship is relatively close to port, they slow the engines (…the vibrations), attach to another ship (smaller), and let the pilot aboard to help dock the ship. Then once we dock, the immigration officers of the country come aboard. They check all of our passports and (sometimes) stamp them. They BETTER stamp them…I need something to show on my passport for all this travelin’! Anyway, as this is happening, a diplomat comes aboard and gives us a diplomatic briefing- the latest and greatest (not always) happenings in the country we’re about to explore. The Spain guy turned out to spend a majority of his time explaining why we should all become diplomats- he did, though, do his job to inform us of what was going on. It was pretty much what we expected- lots of pickpocketing. He mentioned that the shell game was recently becoming very popular. You know at Padres games when they put a 3 hats on the jumbo-tron, put a ball under one, move them all around, and make you watch and guess? And if the specially selected fan picks correctly, the whole stadium gets 2 free Jack-in-the-Box tacos? Well, it’s like that. However, they’re sneaky and pull some little tricks so you can’t actually follow it accurately. They have some people who are in on it “play” and win 50 Euros from betting. People see that it’s possible to win, and want to try it themselves. Meanwhile, they’re pulling the trick and taking your money while simultaneously distracting you so others they work with can pickpocket you. It’s really quite genius—and so wrong. The diplomat told everyone to sling their bags across their chests and keep them in front of them at all times. Oh, and did I mention that 62 out of about 700 Semester at Sea students on last summer’s voyage got pickpocketed on the FIRST day? Yeah, crazy.
So being Julia, I had already ordered my PacSafe bags that were "pickpocket proof." I dare you to try to pickpocket me…especially my camera bag! Well, it’s possible but not without some time and effort. As it ended up, all I used was my money belt with money and cards in it, and my camera slung across me (and holding it at all times with a death grip, of course). My debit card and some more money was stored in my bra- a “NO-NO ZONE” recommended by Semester at Sea for storage. We should all notice if someone is trying to pickpocket from THERE.
Anyway, this briefing happened. When it ended, we went to Timitz Square to wait for dismissal (first!!!). Well, we waited and waited and waited and heard some announcements about FDPs being dismissed first. We waited some more…and some more…and some more for the Amazing Race winners to be dismissed. All of the sudden, we hear over the loudspeaker- “Ladies and gentlemen, it is now general de-boarding is now open.” Well so much for our promised early dismissal! We were definitely a bit peeved, but got over it the second our feet touched LAND. We were planning to go to the Columbus statue, walk around Las Ramblas, maybe grab some Tapas, then get back to the ship by 12:30 to leave for the City Orientation SAS trip we signed up for. All we had to do, as we were told, was walk over a little bridge and the statue is on the other side. Well, so much for relative terms and accuracy. Quantitative please, not qualitative! This “little bridge” turned out to be a 40 minute walk in the hot 90-something degree blazing sun, in the shoes everyone was newly testing out. For some, the shoe thing went well. For others- including myself (why are we not surprised?)—not so much. 40 minutes, 10 gallons of sweat, and 5 blisters later, I was finally at that darn Columbus statue. FI-NA-LLY. Now, I have nothing against Columbus. Not even anything about the statue. It’s awesome. What I do have something against, however, is the fact that the bridge that led us there was “little!” Lies, I tell you. Lies.
Now time for Las Ramblas- the “awesome-but-scary-because-you-WILL-get-pickpocketed” street that runs in the middle of the city, lined with little shops and cafes and souvenir tents and street performers and sketchy people pickpocketing you. And annoying people with mouth pieces that make the most obnoxious sound in your ear as you walk by one every 3 seconds. And hey, they were probably trying to pickpocket you too. And hey, no, we don’t want to go to your club tonight. Not for a deal. Not for free. And you begging us isn’t making it any more likely. Okay, enough with that rant. As you can tell, not the biggest fan of Las Ramblas right here. Anyway, we were hungry and had very little time now after the trek, so we stopped somewhere close to the beginning of Las Ramblas for our first taste of Spanish food. Or in our parched cases, drinks. Guess how much Julia paid for her tiny glass of orange juice? About 8 American dollars. EIGHT. One tiny glass. A little taller than my fist. For REALS! So here we go- 3.50 Euros for the glass of orange juice. Okay, fine. Then we get the bill. An additional .35 Euros added for tax, and 1.40 for the service. Per item. Yeah, so my little orange juice was not 3.50 Euros..nope. And for those of you who don’t know, the American dollar is terrible in Europe. The conversion rate is 1 Euro to between 1.4 and 1.5 American dollars. So pretty much if something is 10 Euros, you pay 15 American dollars for it. Boooo. Needless to say, I sure savored that orange juice! Lesson learned: Las Ramblas rips you off!
Alright, I’m only at about 11:45 am in my first day in Barcelona blog but I must stop here for now-- my lovely bed is beckoning! I’ll try to finish soon…don’t want to leave you hanging for too long! :)
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