Barcelona Day Five: Time to go home.

I woke up this morning with a real sense of sadness and excitement at the same time. I ran around like a lunatic in an attempt to get everything packed in time, as I had to be out of my room by 10am and I hadn't even started getting ready yet. I managed to get everything finished, and dressed and sorted surprisingly quickly so went downstairs for a relaxed breakfast. I then came back up to the room and did another check to ensure I had everything packed and took all my bags down to the storage room as I checked out of the hostel! *sad face*

This is probably the only day I actually had a plan for, even if it was a very rough one. I decided in advance to purchase a wi-fi pass on my phone for the day, as I wanted to make the most of my time instead of spending half my day asking for directions. I then wanted to cross off a top priority on my list, hire one of the vintage styled and beautifully decorated bicycles and explore the city. It was then just a case of crossing off as many plans from my 'to-do in Barcelona' list. I have to say, I didn't do too well at that. I did however greatly enjoy my last day so mission accomplished!

It's not the first time I have thought this, or the first time I have discovered it to be very true, but certainly it is the first time I have shared it. For cities like Barcelona or London, the absolute greatest way to see the city is by bicycle. I'm not even sure I can explain why, there's just something so free about cycling around a beautiful city on a bicycle, the wind rushing through your hair, the buzz of all the people, all of the noise as you whizz past all the sites. It's the freedom to stop wherever you want to look in more detail, to pass a variety of styles all sharing the same city, and the opportunity to explore wherever your heart desires. I absolutely love it.

I tried to cycle from my hostel to the Gran Teatre de Liceu on Las Ramblas but that didn't go too well. I got very lost, even with GPS, and managed to completely pass Las Ramblas and stumble upon the Harbour. I wasn't too upset, as it was a lovely sunny day and another area to explore. I also found the infamous Barcelona Head, so that was pretty exciting. I did eventually find Las Ramblas, and after walking my bike the entire length of the main street just to find somewhere to lock it up, I had to walk at least half way back again to find the Liceu. When I got there, it was closed for the day and there were no more tours available! This was only at about 1pm by the way.

Disappointed but not yet broken, I returned to a food court I had found the other day, in search of some traditional Spanish food to eat (another item on the list). I wondered around for a long while, looking at the menu of every restaurant, before settling somewhere and deciding to be adventurous and eat vegetable paella. It was actually surprisingly tasty and I'd gladly eat it again. I had lemon ice tea with it, a Spanish brand which was actually way nicer than Liptons, which makes me sad that I can't get it here!

After food, I decided that clearly tours for other similar tourist attractions were likely to be finished, and instead decided to head for the Barcelona zoo. The cycling journey there was pretty, even managing to find a cycle path which greatly reduced my chances of being killed by one of the many dangerous taxis on the roads. I'm so pleased that I did make the time to visit the zoo, as I enjoyed my time there far more than I expected, even all alone! Sadly though, the main attraction that had caused me to add the zoo to my list was frustratingly absent. The cursed red panda. Without exaggeration, I stood at their enclosure easily 15 minutes at a time, and looped back to them at least 3 times in desperation, but I couldn't even tell if they were even in there. I was standing at the edge, talking to myself like a lunatic, just in case the red pandas could understand that I had come all the way to Spain just to see one little red panda, just for one second, I only wanted to see one fluffy little red face. But alas, they didn't care.

I saw many other exciting animals I hadn't seen before, including a bear that clawed away at its food hatch while I was focusing my camera for the perfect picture, then turned and stood on it's hind legs, looked square at me and growled so hard that I had to run away in terror. Also while I was standing incredibly close to a fence zooming in on a couple of innocent looking zebras, an ostrich crept up on me and pecked at me! I hate birds, they are terrifying, and these birds are dinosaur size. I think this actually scared me worse than the bear.

I then cycled back to the rental shop and sadly returned the beautiful bike. I wondered back to my hostel with a smile, and set myself up in mine and Mike's chill corner, charging my phone and camera and taking a little nap pre flight. I awoke about an hour or so before I had to leave for the airport to a grand surprise. Mike had messaged me on Facebook to say he was still in the city, he had missed his flight this morning and was now staying in a hostel a few doors down. I have never packed up my crap and ran somewhere so fast. And with a plentiful supply of snacks for my poor exhausted traveller. We decided to have a final meal together, and Mike took me to a restaurant he had mentioned a few days earlier that served the biggest slices of pizza ever. It was awesome.

We stayed so long, that I actually missed my train to the airport, and had to semi run the streets of Barcelona with all my bags and suitcase to get the next one. Thank the Lord I had Mike with me or I'd never have survived! I just caught the train by moments, and even so was due to arrive in the airport 10 minutes before baggage claim was closing. I sprinted the whole way from the train station to my check in, which by the way was the furthest possible point of the airport at about a 15 minute run. A combination of the heat and my asthma made me feel like I was about to die, and then the check in women didn't even know what flight I was talking about. They then proceeded to hurry my check in, frantically rushing me and soon as they had my bag told me I had to run to my gate!

I sprinted through the airport, picturing the whole plane boarded and waiting for me. I had forgotten about security, so had to hurriedly strip everything off and go through the metal detector three times to get clear. And prior to that my blooming boarding pass wouldn't scan, which cost me an extra 10 minutes shifting irritably on the spot while simultaneously trying not to look suspicious. I ran through, holding all my stripped layers and possessions in my arms, only to find a passport control counter also between me and the gate. I practically threw my passport at the guy, shouting "come on, come on!" the whole time he was trying to identify me. I'm still shocked to this day that he didn't have me arrested, but I guess he just wanted me out of his country. I ran through to the gate, wheezing like a walrus, bright red in the face and gleaming with sweat. But when I got there, what did I find? No, my plane wasn't gone, nor was it soon to be. There were still people queueing to board! I could easily have collapsed with relief, whilst also wanting to run back to check in and tell those women to stuff their hurried commands up their backsides.

I strolled into duty free and bought a drink for the flight, then took my anxiety tablets ready for take off, praying they would kick in early. I got onto the shuttle to the plane, still panting, only to sit on the bus full of people for a further 15 minutes and they were still actually refuelling the plane!! I chatted to a friendly young business woman also from England about how much I rushed just to stand around like lemon waiting for them to be ready and we laughed together. I then boarded the plane and hallelujah, not only did I get the extra leg room I had paid for, but the two seats beside me remained unclaimed, so I got a whole extra leg room isle to myself! Then I discovered the plane was delayed by another 40 minutes not cool. So all that hurrying and panic, and worrying I'd have to stay another night at the hostel as there wasn't another flight back to London until tomorrow, turned out to be followed by me chilling for ages on a stationary plane.

After all the stress, it was really nice to spend the flight reading and reflecting on what an amazing trip I had experienced. I have to say this trip has made me feel like a completely different person, and whilst flying back totally in my cool, flying by myself, I felt like I could do anything. It has certainly kick started me to make the most of this year, and to continue to take big steps in my journey of becoming a stronger person. I'm so glad all of you are along for the ride, and if this inspires just one person to change their lives then it's worth it.  

I want to thank every person that I met on this journey that shaped my experience, all of which made it better! I've been greatly reminded in this brief time that no matter how much you plan, or prepare or worry about something, you can not plan for the people or the experiences that you will have, and it's that uncontrollable nature that makes life so wonderful. Sometimes, it's best to simply let go and go with the flow.

Puddy <3

Barcelona Day Four: I'm in a musical.

*** Again I am so sorry that it's been such a long time since I did my last post. I was in a good routine of posting every other day prior to my trip to Barca, now I'm getting swamped with work and just about everything else. Big kick up the bum to get back on track. Okay, back to business***

This morning I came down for breakfast, no surprise, without a sight of my Bristol lads. Considering the rather unimaginable amount of alcohol consumed the night before I wasn't particularly surprised. I can't claim to have felt all that amazing myself. But with it being my penultimate day in Barcelona, I dragged myself out of bed to make the most of it. Also it was a Sunday and I promised myself I would go to church.

I came down to find my lovely American friend Mike at breakfast, my room mate David and one of Mike's friends (this is the problem with writing this so late, I can't remember his name!). We had a good chat about all sorts, including our experiences of Barcelona and the various reactions we had received from everyone we met about where each of us was from. I barely managed to eat properly due to the horrendous hangover, and even tried to drink some tea but that was truly yuck. Sorry Spain, but your tea is totally pants. Lesson learnt, when travelling bring your own teabags.

Mike and I took off on a solo-adventure after breakfast to find some random dancers in a town square. With little more than a tip from a friend of Mike's that there would be dancing at this address, this time and that we would love it, we wondered through the streets with little idea of what we would find. We stumbled across the detailed town square, but there wasn't anything going on. We wondered around the area for a while, but next to everything was closed. It was around 11am to 12 lunchtime, and although we had heard of Siesta's, I was yet to see anything closed for it yet. Granted it was Sunday, but even in England most places tend to be open between 10am-4pm.

Anyway, disappointed from that we went to seek ice cream, as finding Gelato in Barcelona was on my to-do list. Despite having passed literally hundreds of ice cream places in the past 3 days, once actually in search of one it was near impossible to find a bakery or ice cream store anywhere. The only place we could find that was open within a couple of blocks was McDonalds, and even that was like a ghost town. We hung out there for a bit while Mike connected to the wi-fi (or wii fee as pronounced in Spain) to double check the time and address of the dancing, then headed back to check again.

Upon arriving back at the original address, it was a totally different scene. It felt just like walking into a musical, with American jazz music playing loud and everyone swing dancing in time with each other! The experience was surreal and Mike and I couldn't keep the smiles off our faces. Mike talked a young Spanish girl into teaching him a few steps, while I filmed and took many snaps. I restrained from learning, with my lack of rhythm I didn't have enough time left in Barca to learn the steps, but it has certainly inspired me to take up swing dancing back in the UK.

While waiting for Mike's friend to turn up a super terrifying drunk guy from another country (not to be given enough detail to identify here) came up to half threaten, and half befriend us in a very "I want to kill you and eat your insides" kind of scary way. After that, we made a pretty speedy escape. We discussed the Walking Dead some more and our zombie apocalypse plans. Once back at the hostel, I found the lads semi comatose on the bean bags in the hostel, and seeing as they claimed to not want to move for the rest of the day, left them there.

I went back to my room to take a nap and just generally relax for a while before we headed out for church that evening. I didn't end up taking the nap after all, as a lovely new arrival checked in. This is where I met the very sweet Dario from Argentina. We talked for literally three hours about just about everything (even with his TV learnt English and my complete lack of any other language) and I have to say he made a huge impact on my trip even having arrived so late just for being the most adorable person I met on my travels. Later in the afternoon, another newbie arrived from America (I'm really sorry I've forgotten your name!) and she seemed to settle in well too.

I suddenly realised that after spending so much time chatting with Dario, I may have missed the boys boarding for their flight. I rand downstairs, searching frantically for them, and fortunately managed to catch them. I said a brief but very sad goodbye to all my friends, taking comfort in the fact that aren't too far to ever see again! I got changed into something a little warmer as the temperature was now starting to drop, and even with Mike coming to collect me we ended up running late to church.

We power walked pretty much the whole way there, giving us a quick chance to talk more about our faith and how it came about for each of us, and what it actually meant for us as both rather modern Christians. When I got there, I realised I really didn't know much about this church we were going to, other than it was known for it's music. So I was expecting a lot of hymns, which is great for me as I love singing. What I discovered when I went inside was very different. Not only was it all young people, but there was stage with strobe lights and a projector with lyrics to sing along on top of some funky moving backgrounds that were almost rave worthy. This was Hillsong.

The music started and I have to say it was the craziest experience of worship I have ever known. Everyone was dancing with their arms in the air, some of the music was almost dubsteppy, and there were tons of live musicians on the stage. In the quieter, more toned down moments, there was no doubting it was church as the music slowed and everyone held their hands up and whispered prayers. It felt like nothing I had experienced before, a level of passion and belief that was so alive and inspiring that it made my heart feel swelled. Even I could fully believe there, with all the new incredible things I had been allowed to experience on this trip, that I was in the right place at the right time. The performers were truly amazing and the church showed some great talent that night. The preacher was probably the strangest I had ever seen in skinny jeans and a hoodie, but also the most passionate. This man had faith pouring out of his veins, and even though I was listening to a translation, most of which I couldn't even understand anyway, I felt so inspired by his love for God.

From left to right, my room mate David, me, my lovely American Mike and my room mate Andre :)

That night, we returned to find the hostel the emptiest we had seen it yet, with maybe 3 or 4 guests and the staff hanging out. We decided to gather up the last of our food and wine, collect all the bean bags and plug in to Mike's laptop to catch up on the Walking Dead. It took a few trips back and forth to our rooms to collect everything, and a lot of luck with finding somewhere online to watch it, but we got there in the end! It may not have been an exhilarating last night, and I may not have made it out on the town in Barcelona at all, but I wouldn't have traded that cosy evening in with my lovely new friend for the world. We said an emotional goodbye that night, as Mike was leaving very early in the morning, and I went to bed with a smile, especially as even though it was late, Dario was still sat in bed reading when I went back to my room! Cheers bud, you made me smile just after saying goodbye to my friend!

And so, I have only one day left of the most life-changing trip I have yet experienced.

Puddy <3

P.S Found another Barcelona collectable!

Barcelona Day One: Heading to Barcelona.

** Hi guys, this post is from Thursday 5th November, the day I left for Barcelona. I didn't arrive there until really late, so I only have one or two photos, however these is some footage so keep an eye out on my last Barcelona post for a link to my vlog :) **

It's adventure time! Today is kind of a big deal, I'm taking a huge step towards dealing with my anxiety. Today, I fly to Barcelona for a four night trip completely by myself. My 16 year old self would be jumping for joy and shouting for more time, but the person I am now is terrified. I've never been great with flying, last year I had a full on panic attack and then I was travelling with my family. I've also never travelled alone, I'm not even great at being alone in my own home town without feeling nervous, so at this moment I'm starting to think I may have completely lost my mind by booking this trip. I start my day with a trip to my doctors to collect a prescription for some Diazepam (Valium in America) to help me through not only the flight there and back, but just in case I have problems sleeping or just generally coping throughout the trip. I struggled to sleep last year, even though I was in a very fancy hotel with my whole family, so I feel better knowing I am prepared.

I'm frantic as I try to make my last preparations before my friend Amy arrives to drive me to the airport. I have to run to the local store to pick up a bunch of things I've suddenly realised I have, but can't take with me as I share them with my family, such as shampoo and conditioner. I pack my flight bag with 2 new books I've bought especially for the trip, you can never be too prepared. I then fill it with food. I didn't realise when I booked my flight that I was going to be on a plane during dinner time, meaning I won't get to eat from 2pm when I leave for the airport, to 11.30pm when I arrive in my hostel if I am to stay on budget. I begin to realise that the budget is unlikely to last.

Amy arrives and I feel strange as I say goodbye to my dad and we pack my stuff into her car. I'm really nervous the whole way to the airport and although we mostly chatted about work and casual stuff, I have a strong feeling of impending doom. I try to distract myself by filming some of the journey, but when I switch on my camera I realise I've left the memory card in my laptop at home! We're nearly there at this point and there's no way I have time to go back, so I have to plan to buy a new one at the airport. £20 for another memory card, argh! I had planned on picking up an extra in case I filled up the first, but this doesn't help me now as my original card is at home.

I stop for dinner at a Weatherspoons express in the airport and start my book. I take some shots of the airport and beginning of my journey, but it isn't long before I end up running out of distractions and just sit in front of the screen waiting for my gate to be announced. I have a chat with my mum on the phone, and stayed on to her right up to my gate. When I eventually got onto the plane, I had prebooked my seat, extra leg room to make me less claustrophobic in the hope that will ease my nervous, but then also the window seat, which I usually avoid like the plague, because I want to film take off and landing. Thank God for medication! I sit next to a nice Spanish couple who sleep a lot of the flight. I daren't sleep as I worry about sleeping when I get there. I'm surprisingly calm for the whole flight, even take off and landing where I usually freak.

Landing in Barcelona - sadly at this point I hadn't worked out how to focus my camera yet!

When I get off the plane it's not quite as warm as I expected, and I'm actually a little chilly but I hop on to the coach transfer to the airport. I ask a few nice English speaking people where they are staying but none of them are staying at my hostel. I collect my case and head out in search of the train station. I feel a little twinge of panic as I realise I can't read any of the signs and none of them have an obvious train sign. I head for the exit and right outside is a bus to Barcelona city centre. I have directions to the hostel by bus or train, so I jump on and accept the change of plan. I arrive in the city centre and muddle my way to the nearest metro station, getting confused on the simplest of things like how to buy a ticket and how to get through the barriers. Everything is so different!

My directions say to get off at Diagonal and the hostel is a 2 minute walk. However they don't mention that the metro station has 5 different exits, all of which are about 2 blocks apart from each other, and I can't even find an exit anyway as all the signs are in Spanish! I stop several people asking how to get out.

The buttons in the lift of the Metro - where is exit?!

 I end up coming out of the wrong exit and have to walk 20 minutes to find something even close to my hostel address. I cross the road, anticipating that the number of my hostel is the other side of the street, but I can't find number 116. I walk the stretch several times following the numbers, but 116 isn't there. Across the road, partially boarded up, I see a sign cas[BOARD]cia. I am looking for Casa Gracia. I run across the road with my case, which is now killing me to pull with all muscles aching and sweat pouring from me. This building is definitely a hostel, but it's all boarded up and I suddenly realise the sign says its sold.

I can't explain the level of panic I felt. My stomach flips, my heart starts pounding, and I think I might vomit, faint and burst into tears at the same time. Oh my god, it doesn't exist. It's sold. There's no hostel. I have nowhere to sleep! I take a deep breath and force myself to check the other side of the road again. I am adamant that I will find this place. All the even numbers are on the other side so it has to be there. I check each doorway more closely. It's only on checking the intercom system on the third door that I see a tiny little piece of paper that says Casa Gracia. I could scream I am so happy.

I burst in and drag my case beside me with ease in the relief. I quickly check my phone, it's 11.30. I told my mum I would be at the hostel by 10.30 at the latest. She has text me saying she hopes it's not too expensive to text in Spain, but that's she's emailed the hostel to ask if I have arrived, where am I? Shit. I approach the lift and my stomach drops. It looks about 100 years old and I don't even understand the buttons. I press every button and stand there for a while, but nothing happens. I decide it is easier to just drag my case up the spiral staircase, some guests tell me it is only one floor to reception. I freak the hell out of the receptionists with my utter relief to see them.

I check into my room, and someone is in the bed I was assigned. She tells me someone is in her bed. I'm pretty happy to settle anywhere, hell I'm just happy to have a bed! I'm introduced to my two room mates, Lina from Berlin and Jamie from California. I'm so glad it's just girls, but it's a 6 person room so I'm aware more people could arrive any time. I'm told there is a boy staying in our room too, but no one has seen him yet. He dumped his stuff while the girls where out and hasn't been seen all day. He swings by briefly to collect something but doesn't say hi. I email my mum to fill her in and reassure her that I am still alive. I don't sleep very well that night so take diazepam, but am super glad I decided to buy earplugs at the airport last minute.

It's the beginning of an awesome adventure, and I feel invincible as I realise I am here, by myself, in a hostel! Jamie tells me I am superwoman for facing my anxiety and coming here. I feel like it.

Puddy <3