I’ve been to Spain – I think. It was pretty – I slightly recall. Nice food? I think we ate some. Sangria? Yep there was definitely Sangria.

Basically all of my memories from Barcelona are a blur of hot weather, groovy dancing and a royal hangover. And I’m not the only one who has holes in my Spanish memories. My fellow sangria-drinking friends have minimal recollections of the city. But I think we can all agree on one thing. It was awesome.

Tourists

It started innocently enough. Touristy photos were taken, the Sagrada Familia was admired, Paella was enjoyed… And then there was Sangria. And boy was there Sangria. If you had converted the amount of Sangria consumed into water to pour on Australian gardens during a draught then Adelaide would be a much greener place in February.

The night then becomes hazy. I do remember a phenomenal Flamenco show featuring women who sounded like angels, and I remember ordering another Sangria but now I must turn to dot points because at this point reflecting on the night feels like looking back on ‘Inception’ – I mentally just keep asking myself ‘what?’.

• We went to a bar, the music wasn’t very good
• Everyone had roses
• I still don’t know why everyone had roses
• Pat and I drank a Pina Colada
• We decided to take a taxi to the beach
• James insisted on giving me a massage on the taxi ride. Not a nice massage – a ‘I’m learning to be a physio’ massage.
• We arrived at the club
• My back hurt
• James, Pat, Adam, Alex and I entered the club
• Alex and I got kicked out of the club and almost got arrested
• Alex and I ran away from the security guard
• Alex and I ran around the entire club
• Alex and I re-entered the club at the same entrance that moments ago we were escorted out of
• Had a celebratory ultra-expensive drink
• We found Adam, Pat and James
• We grooved
• We went for a beach break
• We made friends with a group of Swedish boys on the beach
• My wallet was missing
• I assumed I had been pick-pocketed
• Pat called the cops
• The cops hung up on us
• My wallet was next to me
• Pat made friends with imaginary people who had escaped from prison and were on an excursion.
• Pat claimed that he could feel the Buddha inside him and had to wait for it to come down from the mountain before he could go inside again.
• Pat disappeared
• I guess the buddha never came down from the mountain…
• James, Alex, Adam and I spent some more time on the D-floor
• We finally left
• We watched the sunrise on the beach
• Adam, Alex and James decided that we had to walk home
• I offered to pay for the cab
• They still wanted to walk home
• We stopped for breaks every minute during our attempted walk home
• We caught a cab
• We went to bed

The next day some of us actually managed to make it to the beach. Andy, Alex and I spent the day embracing that Mediterranean sun, (yes I did get sunburnt) We spent the day drinking the most sugary low-alcohol containing Mojitos, purchased – of course, from the very legitimate men scattering the beach advertising the cities finest cocktails by screaming ‘Mojito!’ (or was it ‘Mosquito?’) at tourists.

And how did we conclude this masterpiece of a weekend? We all went to a sushi buffet. I don’t know why we went to a sushi buffet in Barcelona but it just seemed like an extremely good idea at the time. With stomachs still fill of rice and sangria I think we all slept very well that night.

Barcelona – I feel like our time together was cut short far too soon. I fell for your nightlife hard and fast and like a summer fling I got your number but am yet to call back. But I will call back, Barcelona – I promise.

• Backpacking
• Barcelona
• Europe
• Paella
• Sangria
• Spain
• Summer
• Travel