Slow Down, Take a Deep Breath, Relax, and Find Your Center: Day 10, Barcelona
It was a frustrating start to my morning, particularly because I was in a bit of a rush and I am not typically a morning person. My alarm was set for 5:30 a.m. I dressed, packed my things, and checked out at the front desk by dropping off my key card in the dropbox. However, when I went to grab a quick breakfast in the hostel cafeteria (that I was very much relying on), I realized I needed my key card to access the cafe. I asked the person in front of me if they wouldn’t mind keying me in, to which they obliged, but it would only let one person in. This was the first event of frustration. Thankfully, an employee saw me struggling and keyed me in. I graciously thanked him, set down my bags, and went to grab a tray. I filled it with yogurt, bread with jam, coffee, and OJ. I took a seat and looked like a rabid dog scarfing down my breakfast. After I figured out where to drop off my tray when I finished, I was fully satisfied and ready to hurry to my bus, but this prison of a cafe halted me once more. I couldn’t figure out how to exit and thought I needed another key card, but a group of guys watching me struggle, rather insultingly, let me know I needed to push the button on the device. I looked down, and sure enough, there was the button. I strongly cursed the person who designed this place. In the light of day, I realize it was all a “me” problem, but it’s hard to admit when all you can see is red before the light of day.
I couldn’t get out of the hostel fast enough, and the cold, fresh air hit me with relief. It was still dark, and aside from the beeps of the garbage trucks, the streets were quiet — a contrast to the bustling city vibes it was giving off yesterday. With my suitcase behind me, I faced the short but upward climb to the bus station that would save me a good 15-20 minute walk to the train station, but when I thought I missed my bus, I started the journey anyway. At least the walk this time, due to the deserted streets, required less bobbing and weaving. I tried not to feel too annoyed when I saw what I was certain was my bus pass me by, but sweating and slightly panting, I made it well enough to my train, which then took me to the airport, where I would catch my flight back to Spain.
Check-in was a breeze, along with security, and I read while I waited at my gate. The flight was delayed half an hour, but that was okay, because I would be early for check-in at the hostel in Barcelona anyway. I hoped for a window seat, but was grateful once again for Megan’s handcrafted neck pillow when I didn’t get one. The middle seat was empty, though, so we did get to stretch out a bit. I didn’t read for long on the plane before my eyes drooped, and I rested my eyes for most of the short flight.
When I got to Barcelona, I was happy to cough up $30 for a comfortable 20-minute Uber ride to my hostel, an otherwise 45-minute train ride, and I didn’t have the will or energy to figure out public transportation.
The hostel wasn’t quite what I expected, but that’s what you get for paying more attention to the price than the reviews. I was still early for check-in, but I needed to drop off my luggage. The receptionist was a bit short, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt as he seemed to be having a bad customer service day.
While I waited for my room, I found a cafe down the street called the Dream Cafe, which would turn out to be my saving grace throughout the week. The cafe was a bright light on the otherwise tabby and gloomy street. The cafe was a collection of light pink walls, teal furniture, and white marble tables. The staff greeted me like family — an Iranian couple who moved to Spain 10 years ago. I got a latte and one of the best chicken carne quesadillas I’ve ever had — juicy, savory, and flavorful with all the right spices. For dessert, I had a Nutella-filled muffin-like pastry. Because my laptop was tucked away in a storage closet at the hostel, I spent the afternoon blogging on my phone, taking me back to 10 years ago when I lost my iPad within the first week of Megan’s and my Europe trip, and I had to blog on my phone for two months.
When it was 3 o’clock, I said goodbye to the Iranian couple, letting them know that I would be here all week, and walked back to my hostel for check-in. When I got back, however, I was surprised to see the lobby and common areas filled with people waiting to check in. If I didn’t feel bad for the staff before, I do now. They had us all wait in the “living room” and called us one by one, group by group, to check in and retrieve our bags. I was one of the last, but when I finally made it to my room (after hauling my suitcase and backpack up three flights of stairs), I was pleasantly surprised by the beds — grateful for curtains and the ability to sit up in bed. I couldn’t wait to lie horizontal and rest my body, a ritual in the making. I didn’t rest long, though, because I was still motivated to work on my blog and soon found the balcony terrace to work on my blog site now that I had my computer back. The terrace was filled with white and black furniture, small pillows, fake plants, and a green turf floor. It was quiet, spacious, and comfortable. Despite it being a tad chilly, with the sun peaking through the ceiling tarps, it was the perfect place to work. I spent the rest of my evening here, content with slowing down and taking it easy.
Travel tips:
If you are frustrated and anxious and having trouble exiting a gated cafeteria, it probably means you need to slow down, take a deep breath, relax, and find your center.
Buses run late, so have a little faith and don’t give up too easily. In fact, my entire morning was a lesson in this. Between rushing to check out and eat and find my bus and rushing to the train station, I made things harder on myself, and rushing led to unnecessary stress. I didn’t need to panic and be frustrated at the cafe gate — help was already there. I didn’t need to eat like a rabid dog or hurt myself walking to the train station — the bus was late enough for me to have time to finish my breakfast, but on time to make it to my train. In fact, I was so early to my flight that I was the only one in line at check-in, and my flight was delayed. So slow down, keep calm, and everything will work out as it’s meant to.
Most of the time, even a hostel with crappy reviews is doable, but I definitely recommend reading reviews so you know what to expect and maybe even opting for a hostel a few dollars more if it means better safety, cleanliness, and location. Although this hostel was fine and I had no real issues, I’ve had experiences where I should have paid better attention to the reviews instead of settling on the cheapest option I could find.
