On this fateful day, I finally was reunited with my two best friends Gen and Catherine. For Catherine, we got to share one night in Barcelona before she left to go back home to Australia. That night we went to Ramablam or whatever the name is of the biggest club in Spain or whatever. We dranks and impressed people with our music tastes, I should be a DJ. But seriously, someone teach me how to be a DJ.
Then me and Gen decided to spend a day at the beach, but first lettuce get some lunch! We stop at this seaside lunch place and order some calamari and pizza, sounds delicious! Yes, let's order a plate full of Ebola and get sick and die. This is exactly what happened. But, I have been blessed with the stomach size of a babies fist so I don't really eat that much. Gen, on the other hand, inhaled a whole bowl of what was essentially live squids, and half a fluro orange margarita pizza. Cue food poisoning. Huzzah! I spent the next few days on a holiday in Spain by myself, going out to karaoke and shot bars with a bunch of randoms, they were cool though. Also, I had a new experience with a thing called a Monica Lewinsky. I was fortunate enough to not have it happen to me, thank god my dignity and humility remains intact. For those who don't know a "Monica Lewinsky" is a beer bottle inside of a giant plastic brown dick, that the bartender blindfolds you and shakes it into your face. I was lucky to witness a girl happily ingest the whipped cream and suck the fake penis before doing a slut drop and howling a classic "Whew!" like a girl from an American sorority. Which I assume she was. This same girl later on got mad at her almost-boyfriend for having a conversation with another girl. #doublestandards
The next day, Gen feeling bright and refreshed for our next journey, insisted that we move to San Sebastian. After waiting in a line for 2 hours, we find out that there are no trains leaving for San Sebastian that day. We were already 2 days behind "schedule" so we opted to board a train that had a stop over in Pamplona for the night. We voluntarily, and foolishly, decided not book a hostel for the night, assuming we could spend the 5 hours in the deserted train station making a horror film. For the spare time we had, we rode bikes along the beach of Barcelona. This was practically the first time I had explored the city in daylight, and I decided that I kind of liked it. It's v exotic.
Then we got on the train, spent a few hours playing Game of Thrones guess who, then finally arrived at our destination. Pamplona. Home to fucking NOTHING if you don't come during the running with the bulls festival. We step out into this shack made of cardboard and tumble weed rolls past. A 95 year old man rattles his keys at us and tells us we have to leave the station because he needs to close up. We walk out onto the road with our suitcases and realise that we are in the middle of no-where at midnight and we have no where to go. We spend the next 45 minutes inspecting bushes and playgrounds that we might be able to sleep in. After a serious conversation with myself, I had actually mentally prepared for the fact that we would be straight up homeless for the night, a stream of light from the heavens comes beaming down upon an open, vacant hotel. That night we stayed in one of the nicest places we'd stayed so far, with the best showers and free Wifi, and they served a free buffet breakfast in the morning.... that we missed because we were asleep... but still we won we won the homeless game.
We made it to San Sebastian the next day. We were staying in this hostel which was definitely just this dude's apartment that he painted white and put in a few bunk beds. But it was cool, it felt like we were all friends living on top of each other in some kind of sitcom. Me and Gen discovered a place that offered a two course meal and a bottle of wine for 11 euros, and we spent that day drunk driving our bikes along the beach. We met some fellow Australian's and we all went bike riding together, it was glorious. I fucking love bike riding. However, I also fucking hate swimming. For some fucked up reason, someone thought it would be a good idea to swim to this island here in the middle. I have always been a horrible swimmer, I'm the dyslexic equivalent for swimming. After doggy paddling the entire way and almost drowning, we made it to this centre island here.
That night, like stepping into some sort of horrific nightmare, something happened to me that may have traumatised me deep into my bones. But first a back story: 1. I'm mildly claustrophobic, I'm v irritable and, to quote Gen, my personality is too big for a confined space. 2. There were a collection of infuriatingly stupid people staying in the hostel. 3. There was an elevator in the building. 4. We had all been playing Kings beforehand. Guess what happens next.
We got drunk and decided to ride the elevator down when were leaving but the infuriatingly stupid people clambered in after us, one of these people being fucking like 6"5, and fucking BROKE THE ELEVATOR. And I was stuck there, I remained in this space for 40 minutes, not speaking to anyone and slowly panting through the crack in the door, with my friend, sweating profusely, while the other fuckwits tried to play "I never" to pass the time. At one point, the rage spiralled up in me, so infuriated, that I lunged forward and pushed my bodyweight against the door in which it decided to just break open. I flew out, screaming, then I asked if anybody had actually tried to open the door. Nobody cared. Time for more beers. We slammed down some vodka shots to try and suppress the memory of such a traumatic experience. Then the fun continued, when a guy from the hostel was being pinned down by the police for punching his girlfriend in the face. Or something. Best night.
The next day, me and Gen parted ways that morning. I somehow managed to travel from San Sebastian to Copenhagen by myself, I am still not quite sure how this was accomplished. I did past the time editing together an amazing video of Spain. Want to see it? Well you fucking can't. More on that later.
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