Barcelone uhh... 5/10/08 (I'm entitled to my bad puns)

Morning came quickly, and Mark and I woke up to catch our train. Unfortunately, in waking up, we woke everyone else up too, and now we had to wait in line for our turns in the shower. Fortunately, the hostel was only around 2 or 3 blocks from the train station, and we'd given ourselves plenty of time to get ready, so we didn't have to hurry too much. We each packed up our stuff, and walked across the street to the station, making it to the platform just as our train pulled up. The whole trip to Barcelona would be almost 12 hours. This first train ride would be about 4 hours, with a 3 hour lay over in Montpellier, and then 4 hours and 45 minutes on the second train. It went pretty much as full day train rides go.

When we reached Montpellier we were both starving because we hadn't eaten anything before catching the train. We rushed in to a McDonalds across the street, and even though neither of us wanted to succumb to eating American fast food in France, we enjoyed a full stomach. Afterward, we decided to go exploring around Montpellier for a while because neither of us knew anything about this city, and neither of us wanted to sit around on a train platform for 3 hours anyway. The streets were filled with people. I hadn't realized Montpellier to be such a popular tourist spot. As in every big city in France, there were performers in the streets, and beautiful French architecture. The two of us wandered through the winding streets through back alleys and crowded squares until we finally found a beautiful park to rest in. It was wonderful too, because during this particular time, there was a huge market set up, and crowds of people gathered nearby to watch a volleyball matches. Several over people were clustered around two other people playing a giant sized game of chess on the floor with huge (almost life sized) plastic chess pieces. While they played, a DJ played club techno in the background. Mark and I laughed at the contrast of the music, and the timidity of the game of chess, made into a contact sport by the giant pieces.

We found a huge grassy knoll around a little pond with ducks. Around it, children were playing football (soccer), and young people sat and read books while drinking coffee. Mark and I found a small tree by the lake, so we perched our backpacks up against the tree, and rested in the shade. We talked a little, and both periodically fell asleep listening to the sounds of the beautiful park. We got up to make our way back to the station to catch our last leg of the journey, and again caught our train right on time.

In our bags we'd stuffed some fresh fruit and sandwiches from the little market in the park at Montpellier. We figured we'd probably be hungry again on the train, and would need dinner because our train wasn't expected in until 9:45 that night. The last train ride seemed a lot longer. It was of course, by about 45 minutes, but it seemed several hours longer than the first. This train wasn't quite as nice as the last one. It's walls were rusted and dilapidated, the seats were old and uncomfortable, and there was no real central cooling system in the tiny train car with all those people. You couldn't even put the window down. We did very little talking on this last train ride to Barcelona, we just each sat with our iPods and tried to bear it.

When we got there, the first thing we did was find a map in the tourist office of the train station. We looked for the hotel Mark had booked online in Nice, and found some type of general area the hotel could be in. Mark told me I could tag along, and see if there was another room open that I might stay in, if I wanted. I didn't have a place to stay yet in Barcelona, and I still couldn't get in contact with the person I was supposed to meet here, so I took him up on his offer to find this hotel in hopes they had another room. It was raining a little bit, although fortunately, it wasn't all that cold. We guessed as best we could which street was which, as we jumped puddles, and stumbled down soaked streets. On every hotel we passed, the sickening phrase "No Vacancy" shown in the window. The bars were all packed solid with backpackers, and tourists from everywhere in the world. It's now definitely the tourist season.

We finally got to where it said the hotel was supposed to be, and searched the surrounding area for another 20 minutes before finally finding it. As we entered I got a bad feeling about availability, seeing how small the place seemed to be. Mark stepped up to the old unkempt front desk, and began to talk to the old unkempt front desk attendant. The old man didn't speak a single word of English, and as Mark painstakingly played a hopeless game of charades, you could tell we were getting absolutely nowhere. Mark told him in as few words as possible that he'd made a reservation, and wanted a room for the night. The old man nodded like he understood part of what he was saying, and pointed to a spot on the map, completely opposite of where we were. "No, no no," Mark interrupted. "I have a reservation for HERE," and pointed to where we were right now. The conversation went back and forth for some time, until we got the notion that perhaps he's trying to point us to another hotel under the same owner who keep under the same booking system. We finally gave up the fight, and followed the man's directions all the way across town to another crappy rusted, worn-in hotel. We walked inside, and climbed 6 flights of stairs to the reception, where they finally did have Marks reservation. We asked if they had any other rooms available for me to stay in, but they said they're all book up tonight. I left Mark my email address, and then we shook hands goodbye, as I went off to find a free room somewhere in Barcelona.

I walked all over, down dreary streets looking for something, anything with a bed for the night. However, nothing I walked into had any beds, nor knew anywhere I might find a bed for tonight. They all just shrugged their arms and said "It's saturday night!" As if that was somewhat helpful. "Oh it's saturday night, I hadn't realized. Well then I'll just do something else!" I'm not sure it occurred to them that I was a couple thousand miles from home, and "No Vacancy" tonight might mean I'll have to sleep out on the street in the rain tonight. I passed hundreds of hotels, disregarding the star rating at this point, but I got the same answer from each one. With all the hotels and hostels in Barcelona, there seemed not to be a single one with an open room. How could that be? I had a brief conversation with God, asking what in the hell was I supposed to do now. God had provided before, and I trusted he'd provide for me now, but what was I supposed to do if there was no answer to my prayer? I decided I'd just keep walking until my legs could go no further. When my legs would give up, I would sit where I was and wait for God to respond. I'd walked the circle all the way back to about where the first hotel with the old man was, and saw a row of 3 hotels. I walked into each one right down the line, and not until the last one did they have 1 single room left. It was a 3 star hotel, and all they wanted for the room was 40 euros a night. Mark had paid 60 euros a night for the one star hotel he was staying at, and other 3 stars wanted at least 125 euros a night (had rooms been open). The room wasn't anything flashy, It was tiny. Only the bed and a small TV fit in the main part, while the bathroom was fairly small as well, but it was just absolutely perfect.

That night I had a hot bath, and watched CNN on the one English channel. I thanked God for providing for me, once again. Somehow all of my needs were met just at the moment I let my own fate fall out of my hands. I was so thankful to be in out of the rain, and I slept well.

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