Travel Journal Excerpts 4

June 21, 2009
Sevilla, Spain

Tonight when I went to talk to the hostel desk, the manager said, "Hey Molly. I saw you guys on the news today." "Oh, what'd they say we were wanted for?" "No, seriously, you and Laura and Ashley were on the news. They were doing a story on the heat wave here in Sevilla, and you guys were used as footage." At which point I recalled when I turned to Laura and Ashley and said, "there's a camera filming us. I'm sure they're making a tourism video or something." Apparently, it was the news. One day in Spain and we're on the news.

June 23, 2009
Barcelona, Spain

While driving into the city tonight I noticed a huge building off the road labeled "supermercat." I'm not entirely sure why it took me SO LONG to figure out that it was a super market. I just had this image in my head of a mermaid cat. Like instead of half fish half human, half fish half cat, that could be a pet to a mermaid. Wow. I am ridiculous.

June 26, 2009
Barcelona, Spain

Although I try to keep this as a secret of the most secure variety, I am genuinely an idiot. Today's example: I went to the Renfe Station off of Barcelona's metro stop Sant Someone or other to go to the airport to catch my flight to Santander. I was under the impression that the Barcelona Reus airport Ryanair kept talking about was the Barcelona airport that was 8 miles out of the city. I headed out there on the train and wasted an hour there going from one terminal to another looking for Ryanair. Then in my broken Spanish I asked and learned the disheartening truth. So back to Sant to catch a different train to the suburb of Reus. Now, the timing of this worked out as well as it could have, which I can write because this story has a happy ending, but it was absolutely touch and go for awhile. I got a train ticket to Reus departing in twenty minutes, then rode the hour and twenty minute journey ever-so-impatiently. When I got off, I went searching for a cab - there was only one at the station and someone beat me to it by 20 seconds. Then I met a girl from Tijuana, who had a suitcase, also looking for a way to get to the airport. There was a half an hour break in bus service and that of course was when we needed that bus. We called a cab after trying to hitchhike - my idea - and the cab dropped us off 9 minutes before my flight, and consequently 21 minutes after my ticket said the gate closed. It was amazingly funny listening to her yell at the cab driver to pass other cars, that we were in a hurry, but the cabby just took his time. The ticket desk told me if I could carry on my bag I could try to run for it, so I bid adios to my friend, hoping she could catch her flight to London and ran like hell. I threw my suitcase on the scanner praying they wouldn't search it or be a stickler for the 3 oz rule that I was absolutely breaking with my full size shampoo bottles inside. I was that moron running through the airport because there was no other option. When I got to the gate, they called the plane and I got the ok to run on the tarmac, they were about to close the last door. Here I am, JUST in time to wing my way to the Basque coast, and here comes the perfume cart.