Day 53: Barcelona

Saturday, October 5

I made sure to wake up early enough to pack up and go if the extension wasn't approved. I checked my phone right away. I had a message in the Goki app.
    "Hi trevor. We need you to come by the reception to confirm your extension" it said. No ending punctuation, lowercase t. At least that tells me that a human wrote it. I pulled yesterday's dirty clothes on and headed on down.
    "We can extend your stay one day, you can stay in the same bed and everything, but the price for tonight is...significantly more," the man at the desk this morning said. He swiveled the monitor to give me a look at the charges. "But i can actually give you a 15% discount." He did not explain the source of the discount.
    "I can live with that," i said. It was better than having to grab all my shit and hit the bricks immediately.
    "Hmm...i can actually give you a little more than 15%," he said, typing.
    It still came out to almost twice what i'd been paying per night over the last few days.
    Well, at least that business was resolved. I had another day to get my shit together.
    I had told myself i would make a decision on travel plans in the morning, but now it was morning, and sleeping on it had not yet revealed the correct path to me. I shunted it off to Evening Trevor.
    I did the cornflakes-and-toast routine, had my aminos, and poked around on my phone, trying to figure out what to do. Nothing was really appealing to me in the moment. Yesterday, my heart had yearned for adventure. Today, my body was a dilapidated centuries-old husk again. So it goes.
    I hadn't yet had a chance to check out the "rooftop garden" at the Mediterranean Youth Hostel, this place i'd been staying that plays fast and loose with the word "youth." I didn't even feel "young at heart" in that moment. Just old.
    It was bothering me that i was getting so far behind on my logs. I decided that, it was early enough, maybe i'd go sit in that "garden" and type out a log before i got going for the day. As long as i was rolling by noon, i'd probably be happy with myself.
    There were a few young women out there smoking and chatting when i waltzed through the door, bringing my dumpy old man energy. I found a spot to sit, and one of them started moving away from me. "Oh, it's okay, you don't have to move," i said.
    "I just thought you would like some extra space," she replied.
    "It's fine."
    She didn't end up actually moving, she'd just slid her chair forward a bit. They were all a lot quieter after i sat down, though.
    The "rooftop garden" isn't really much of either. Kind of a patio, but fully enclosed by cement walls, three of which extend many stories into the sky, as they are part of other buildings. The fourth has a tiny bit of metal fencing at the top, but is still too high to offer any kind of a view. All this space really offered was a bit of fresh breeze, and a view of the clear blue sky up above. The floor was covered in astroturf. There were a few potted plants about.

    It took me until 1:30pm to get that log written. Once it was posted, i turned my attention to figuring out what i even wanted to do today, still ignoring tomorrow's travel plans.
    There's an Alien museum in Barcelona that i had wanted to see, including reproductions of the sets of the Nostromo and the Narcissus, as well as props, costumes, electronic devices, and, of course, Xenomorphs. Some of them are even authentic film props! They even have some of the original storyboards from the films. It seems to be kind of a little mom-n-pop operation, and the web site has said they were closed because they were on vacation through October 4th. Well, today's the 5th, let's see if i can...
    Oh, it has to be booked in advance, and the minimum booking is two adults? That's disappointing. But, there's a link where you can join an existing group if you're a single person!
    It's sold out for the next few weeks.
    God damn it. This keeps happening to me, specifically in Barcelona. I haven't run into this much elsewhere.
    I started going through Huan-Hua's suggestions, plus the Atlas Obscura, plus the tourist lists of places to go in Barcelona. I got suggestions for several other Antoni Gaudí buildings, essentially all of which are museums now, and started checking their web sites. They all have admission fees in the €20 range, tours take 1-2 hours, and some of these are also sold out for the day. So i should probably just pick one.
    I looked at some other museums, i don't even remember which ones now, but i wasn't super interested and getting tickets also proved difficult. Many of them were closed for one reason or another.
    I finally just had to leave the hostel. I couldn't take it anymore. I felt like i was wasting too much time. It was after two and i still needed more food than corn flakes and white toast. I picked a point on Huan-Hua's map and i headed for it.
    Los Tortillez was completely packed. Even if i could get a seat inside the building, i felt like i would have been crammed in there and just too anxious about everything. It's almost 2:30, we're well past the lunch rush, what are all you people doing here??
    I didn't want to walk too much further without food. Maps showed a place nearby called Vegan Tulsi, with reviews pointing out how good their vegan paella was. I've been meaning to get some paella while i'm here, perhaps i will start with the vegan version and get a regular one later on. Actually, at this point, i already knew i'd be having paella for dinner.
    I think i neglected to put in yesterday's log that, at about 8pm, i saw a notification from Goki that the hostel would be having homemade paella night for anyone who was interested to get together for kind of a family dinner, just chip in €6, which seemed super reasonable to me. However, it went on to say you needed to push the confirm button by 7pm to ensure your spot. I assume this is so they know how many groceries to buy. I was upset i hadn't seen the notification until it was too late...but i kept thinking about it, and i went back later to see if i could still push the button, and realized that paella night was Saturday, not Friday. So i pushed that button.
    The vegan paella sure did look good, but not as good as the tapas offerings they had, so i ended up getting some of those instead. Roasted asparagus with "vegan sauce," and eggplant tempura. I was surprised when they didn't bring them out together; they served me the asparagus, and after i'd finished it, the waiter took the plate and told me, "they'll start cooking the eggplant now." Both of these items were listed under the "Tapas" section, so it's not like one was intended as an appetizer and the other a meal, so i don't know why they didn't come together.
    The food was good, but it didn't quite fill me up. I had already decided to head toward Mercat de la Boqueria, which rounded out Huan-Hua's top three, because it would be nice if i could at least get into one of her favorite spots. I wasn't really sure what kind of market it was, for some reason i was under the impression it might be like, vendors selling odd items, textiles, and random miscellanea. I swear that's the kind of photos i had been seeing on Google Maps, but when i look at it now, all i see are food pics. But at the time, i wasn't sure if it would be a good spot for me to find that lil snack to keep me going, or not.
    That headache was growing pretty noticeably again, too, so i was hoping to find some Excedrin or aspirin or something for it, maybe at the market. This time, i was 100% sure it was emanating out from my neck. As soon as i'd slung the R6m2 over my head this afternoon, i had felt the weight in a way that's been much easier to ignore in the past.
    There was one Atlas Obscura location that i would be walking right past on the way to the Mercat, so i made sure to watch for it: the Barcelona Baby Drop.
    Almost inconspicuously built into the side of what used to be the House of Mercy, a convent founded in the 16th century, this wooden hole in the wall hides a turntable, which was used to bring things inside. While it was initially intended for groceries, money, and other donations to the church, industrial development in the mid-1800s brought an influx of single women from rural areas to the city. Unfortunately, in the impoverished areas, this also brought a parallel rise of "illegitimate" births among poor women who could not afford to take care of the children. The convent formally became an orphanage, and accepted unwanted babies through the turntable. Unfortunately, most of them did not live past their first birthday. The drop off site was active from 1853 to 1931.
    I started recording a video on approach, as i usually do, to make a good transition/introduction shot to the segment whenever i end up editing all this video, and right as i was about to reach it, a huge tour group somehow appeared in front of me, swarming the hole, and blocking me out. The guide gestured toward it and said, "Who has a guess what this was used for?" and i wanted to shout out the answer, since i'd come here specifically to see this, but i just stood back and watched as the tourists spouted whatever dumb shit came to their minds. I wish i had written some of it down, because their ideas were not thought out in the least.
    So i waited.
    And waited.
    A n d .  W a i t e d .
    Was this guide explaining the entire history of the convent? What the hell is going on here?
    I found an informational sign posted about 20 feet back from the baby drop, which is where i got most of the information i presented in that description paragraph up there. It's more complete information than what was on Atlas Obscura.
    I was getting frustrated, but i didn't want to move on without getting a closer look at that hole. I noticed a convenience store a few doors down, so i decided to go in there and check for Excedrin, caffeine, and maybe a lil snack.
    I walked up and down both aisles of that convenience store twice, slowly, looking for headache medicine, but couldn't find anything. I settled for a bottle of Coke Zero and an original Mars bar.
    Surely, that tour group has moved on by now.
    Nope! Still there.
    There was a little park in this courtyard, with some open seats. I took one, where i could see the whole tour group, and keep an eye on their progress. I ate half that Mars bar before they finally moved on.
    I swooped in there to get my baby drop pictures. I got a few shots of it on its own, then turned my camera around to get my customary selfie, and noticed an older woman standing too close to me, looking at me disapprovingly, like i was hogging the baby drop.
    Lady. I waited fifteen minutes for this. You can give me thirty more seconds to get what i need for my project.

    I walked away from that depressing site, making the conscious decision not to include it in my Instagram story for the day.
    Mercat de la Boqueria was literally a block away.
    As i walked up, i could already see that it was just a ton of food.
    I already regretted having that Mars bar. I almost regretted my vegan tapas, but reminded myself that no, no those were really good, do not regret.
    I walked up and down the rows of vendors for a while, taking it all in. It's an experience, just being there. It's very much like Grand Central Market in Los Angeles, or the Riga Central Market in Latvia. I saw things done with food here i had never considered before. A potato, thinly sliced into a spiral, served with a skewer through it the long way. Fries in the same kind of container that fast food fries are often served in, but with meats or other, more substantial courses mixed in. Taco burgers, as in, half a burger patty served in a taco shell with burger dressings. Shish kabobs that you can't even imagine. Eggplant empanadas.

    I wished i'd come hungry.
    I had to get something, though.
    I ended up having two of those burger tacos. They were exactly as advertised.
    I had to get out of there, though, because i was in danger of stuffing myself full of so many unnecessary foods, i might never stop eating.
    Mercat de la Boqueria is in the Gothic Quarter, which my friend Dawn would also recommend checking out, although i didn't see her message until the following day. I walked down Las Ramblas, which is supposed to be filled with many street performers, but i didn't see any. I saw a banner that said something about them, but that's all i could make out, because it was not in English.
    Then i came across a large, round piece of art in the middle of the pedestrian path. I can't really identify it; it was a huge white circle, with a black border, and a few other, colorful shapes within. It seemed to be made of sand and flower petals, so the elements will carry the entire thing away eventually. A sign in the middle said "Festa Major de la Rambla" with the dates 5-13 October. So whatever this is, it's just beginning.

    The Saint Joseph Oriol Plaque was nearby, so i swung by that quick. This is not the kind of thing that's really worth going out of the way for, it's just a plaque on the side of the Church of Santa Maria del Pi. During his life, Catalan priest Joseph Oriol was said to have performed many healing miracles, including curing deafness, blindness, and muteness. Even after Oriol's death, miracles were attributed to him; specifically, on April 6, 1806, fellow priest José Mestres fell off a walkway outside the church's apse, which should have killed him, but he was unscathed. He attributed his survival to Oriol, whose remains were interred within the church. The Pope canonized Oriol as a Saint that same year. The plaque is placed near the site of Mestres's fall.
    I was on my way back to the hostel. That headache wasn't going away, i was still tired, and the sun was getting to me, as it often does with prolonged exposure. Plus i really had to pee and all i was finding were pay toilets.
    I returned to the rooftop patio, and banged out another journal entry. The patio is supposed to close at 7, but i remained undisturbed until about 8, after the sun had left me and it was getting chilly out there anyway. A hostel employee came through the door.
    "Hey, sorry, i know it's nice out here, but i need to close this up for the night," she said.
    "That's alright," i said. "It's almost time for paella anyway, right?"
    "Ohhh," she responded. "Paella's been canceled tonight. The chef is out, and there wasn't very much interest anyway. But we'll have something else tomorrow, if you're still going to be here."
    "I won't, i'm leaving in the morning," i said.
    Well that's disappointing.
    I'd realized a little bit ago that i had never changed out of my dirty clothes this morning, after handling the extension. I was smelling kind of pungent. I'd been thinking about taking a shower before paella anyway, just so no one would have to sit next to me. Now, i guess i could hold off on that until the morning, as i prefer.
    My laptop was down to like 7% battery anyway, so i would need to find a place i could get some power if i was to keep working. I stopped by the men's bathroom, which had two showers and one toilet which didn't always flush, and found that the toilet had stopped working entirely. There was more in there than you would expect.
    Down the hall there's a unisex bathroom, which is just a single toilet and sink in a room the size of a bedroom closet. It has an interesting door in the wall that starts at about chest height and goes almost to the ceiling, though, which is interesting; if you open it, on the other side is what looks like it should be an elevator shaft, but there are no doors to indicate there was ever an elevator in there. There are additional windows, though, which open up into some of the guest rooms. Some of them have been left open. I don't have a clue what this shaft is for; it has a roof, so it's not even bringing fresh, outside air into the middle of the building.
    Outside of the main office where i'd checked in (the job interview-type situation), there's that living room-style area where those two women were sitting at the coffee table when i came in, and then there's a weird kind of loft above it? There's a staircase that's more of a stepladder, which leads up about five steps to a very short room that has a window, and several beanbags on the floor, and a little desk. It seemed like a fun little nook to sit down and get some writing done in.
    Only problem, no power outlets.
    I couldn't find any in the main living room-type area either, other than the ones that had lamps already plugged into them.
    So the dining room it was, then. I sat down at the corner of the table, plugged into an outlet on the wall which, when sitting, was at shoulder-height, so my power cable was stretched across an expanse behind the table like a hazard.
    There were already a few of the hostel youths at the table, drinking, when i came in, and more rotated in and out while i worked, being loud and obnoxious, as drunken youths tend to do. I didn't mind. I appreciate the energy.
    "Hey! American!" a German kid was shouting at me. We'd had some interactions before, we kind of knew each other. I was so engrossed in my log that it took me a moment to recognize i was being spoken to.
    "Yeah?"
    "What's that word, what's it called, that really trendy word that's been all over the internet for the last, like, two or three years? It means like, when you're lying about something. Like when you tell a child that they love green beans!"
    "What?"
    "You know, when you tell a child that the child loves green beans? Or brussels sprouts!"
    "Gaslighting?"
    "YES! THAT IS THE ONE! I knew you would know, American! And everybody is saying it online!"
    The woman he'd been flirting/shouting with all night chimed in, "I think it's finally dying down, people aren't saying it as much now."
    "Maybe not, maybe not," he said. "But like, that's not even what it really means, right?"
    "Yeah," i put in. "People online often use it to mean lying, but it's more complex than that, it's about, like, creating systems to make people doubt themselves."
    "Right! Right!"
    I don't have any idea what the rest of the context of that conversation was. He stopped paying attention to me, so i went back to my work.
    I did get up to go to the bathroom once during all of this, only to find that the entire ground floor bathroom is out of order. So in other words...this whole hostel only has one working toilet right now.
    The drunken teenagers eventually disappeared, to go clubbing for the night, as drunken teenagers, especially European ones, are wont to do.
    I was very hungry.
    I still wanted that paella.
    I didn't know what paella was, i just knew it was Spanish, and had been referenced on Bob's Burgers once.
    It wasn't difficult to find a place nearby that was still serving paella at 10pm. It was just a couple blocks, so with my journal entry posted, i went for it.
   Restaurant Teruel looks like it should be expensive, but it's actually one of the more affordable places i've eaten in Spain, and they sold me what was both the cheapest and the biggest Aperol Spritz i've had on this entire trip. Everything on their menu looked really good, but i knew what i was here for. I ordered the paella marinara.
    I was just thinking about the Riga Central Market, which of course brought disturbing flashbacks to that poor living fish left on the ice, gasping for something to put in its gills that it was not going to get. Which again made me think about how much of a hypocrite i've been, eating more meat on this trip than i probably have in the last two years combined.
    And here i was, ordering this skillet full of rice, served with two fully intact jumbo shrimp on the top of it. Complete with tails, exoskeletons, all the legs, and heads.

    I did not want to look at them. But all the same, i knew i was going to eat them.
    I am definitely getting more strict about being at least vegetarian, and hopefully more vegan, when i get back. I don't like this.
    My phone rang.
    It was Friday.
    She's been trying to get a hold of me for like a month. She keeps texting me, "What time is it?" when it's like 3:30 in the morning and i'm definitely asleep. She's tried calling a few times but i haven't been able to pick up. She keeps texting me that she has so much tea she needs to spill.
    "Hey," i answered.
    "OH MY GOD I have a 13-minute drive, i need to update you on SO MANY THINGS. SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED SINCE YOU'VE BEEN GONE! But first, what have you been up to? What are you doing? What time is it?"
    "Well, i'm in Spain, so i'm nine hours ahead of you. It's 11pm and i'm eating paella."
    "Why the fuck are you eating paella at 11 o'clock at night?!"
    "I don't know, man. Nothing is real, you can do whatever you want."
    And she laughed hard enough to clip the phone audio and told me again that i'm literally the main character right now.
    We talked for 22 minutes about all the weird-ass drama in her life. The strangest things happen to her, i can't explain it. She asked me what i've been doing in Europe, and it's been just so many things, i mean, we're about to hit 250,000 words here, that i couldn't even begin to tell her.
    "Well like, what's been your favorite?"
    "Well...i ate dinner on top of the Eiffel Tower."
    "Jesus christ, that's incredible."
    "I saw hundreds of thousands of corpses in the Paris Catacombs. Also i really liked Brussels, Belgium, quite a lot, surprisingly."
    She had to go, she'd been in the parking lot at her destination for a while and was supposed to be meeting someone, so she signed off with the usual impassioned pleas for me to move back to California. I told her i've been thinking about it, i miss Los Angeles more and more every day.
    As we'd spoken, i'd eaten almost all of the rice from around and under my giant shrimp. Now i would have to confront those beady black eyes directly and finish the job.

Back at the hostel, i realized that i'd put off making a decision about tomorrow's travel for about as long as humanly possible.
    Drew and i had been texting around 7pm about the decision. He was curious if i'd made any progress. I vented to him about how i felt like i was going to regret my choice no matter which way i went. The first day i was at the film festival, i felt like i should be adventuring; the last two days that i've been adventuring, i've felt like i should be at the festival. I don't want to burn two full days of just sitting on trains, thinking about the festival. And also, i've just been so tired the last two days. It would probably do me well to just go see some movies.
    I decided to do the festival.
    He replied, "Pure enjoyment and along your life's path sounds best so I think the film fest is the best idea. No wasted time and potential for new experience and networking possibly. I had to see it so you do too." And then he sent me a meme about an octopus navigating my gastrointestinal tract. I responded with one about The Forbidden Bidet.
    Now here i was, almost midnight, nearly five hours after that conversation where i'd essentially made a final decision, and i hadn't yet done anything about it. I got on the AirBNB web site, created an account, and clicked to book that room in Vilanova, which i'd been thinking about for days. Only a five minute train ride from Sitges instead of an hour, and many more trains go that way, even late at night.
    I've never used AirBNB before. I've never had a need, and in general, i'm morally opposed to their business model. Renting a single room in someone's house for a few days seems more in line with the spirit AirBNB was originally founded on, though, before it just turned into an unlicensed hotel aggregator. I thought this would be okay. But since i had no experience with the platform, i didn't know that you don't just "book" an AirBNB. You put in a request, which the host can then either confirm or deny. I got a warning that there was "less than an hour" before the host stopped accepting requests for those dates. It was ten minutes to midnight, so i assumed what that means is, essentially, no same-day requests.
    I hurried through the process, confirming my phone, email, and credit card, sending them a picture of my passport (another thing i don't like to do, but in a case like this, where it's literally "letting a stranger into your house," i can respect the need for identity confirmation), writing a personal message to the host about why i would be a good fit for their room. I got the whole thing sent off at 11:59pm. Then, assuming the host wouldn't see it until morning anyway, i spent fifteen minutes filling in my profile, so i don't look like a bot. Nothing i can do about the whole "profile created yesterday" bit, though.
    So now i was, once again, going to bed without my housing situation for the next night booked. Stressful. Stressful, stressful, stressful. But, once again, i've done it to myself. This is the kind of trip that i wanted.