Barcelona (again)

          I arrived in Barcelona Sunday evening and checked in to the hostel I reserved, which could not have been more of a shock coming from the beautiful, comfortable home in Sweden--or coming from literally anywhere sanitary, in fact. The place didn't even have a sign on the entrance, so some other backpackers and I were wandering around aimlessly for a good 15 minutes before finding the right door. The beds were nauseating, and without going into too much graphic detail about the place, suffice it to say that the mattress above mine had blood stains on it. I would have rather gone out dirty than take a shower in that place, so I locked all my stuff up and wandered around the city until I was tired enough to fall asleep without worrying about staff infections or bedbugs, and then woke up early the next morning to get the hell out.
         I only had one full day in Barcelona, but since I had already done all the tourist things when I came in February, it was very relaxing. I was reminded of how much I loved the city as I wandered the Barrio de Gracia, Barrio Gotico and Montjuic, and although I thought I would feel really lonely after coming from such great company in Sweden, I really enjoyed the solitude. I did almost get robbed by a plot of fake police asking for my identification, but luckily I sort of awkwardly stumbled away, not quite sure at the time if I was smartly avoiding pick-pocketers or comitting a crime by running from the cops.
         The best part of the day came that night, when I was sitting peacefully in front of the Cathedral listening to street music, and I started chatting with two very elderly ladies next to me. They immediately told me to come closer and we entered into a very long and animated conversation. I cannot adequately describe how adorable Maita and Isa were--two sisters (probably over age 90) born in Andalucia but living in Barcelona, with the most amazing sense of humor. Every time I mentioned that I had been studying in Granada but was returning to California in two weeks (a topic that resurfaced frequently due to Maita's apparent memory loss), Maita would hit me on the shoulder and exclaim, "Pues yo voy contigo!! Tú te quedas aqui con mi familia y yo me mudo allí con la tuya!" (Well I'll go with you! You stay here with my family and I'll move there with yours!) It seemed like a perfect plan to me too.
        The three of us hung out on the bench for some time, talking and laughing like a group of high-schoolers instead of a tourist and two senile old women. It was quite frankly one of the most fun conversations I've had in Spanish so far, as they had me cracking up the whole time, especially when a couple walked by holding hands and Maita nearly lost it because of their height difference (the man was probably 6' 6'' and the woman 5' 2''). "Madre mía I don't even want to think how that couple shares a bed at night! She's barely bigger than the pillow and he's probably spilling over the edge!" She continued on to comment on their probable sex life, this tiny little religious woman who had just come out of mass, and she had me in absolute hysterics.
         Unfortunately the time came to say goodbye as I had to head for the airport, and I was also eager to escape before Maita forgot once again why and where I was headed in an airplane. But before I left the ladies insisted on getting my U.S. phone number so they could call me on Christmas!! That simply melted my heart completely. I'm not sure they realize they're phone bill will probably be more than their monthly pension if they choose to call me, but it's Ok because poor Maita will surely forget our conversation anyway.

New best friends: Isa, Maita and me