Barcelona and the home stretch!

A lot has happened in the last 36 hours. I write this as I wait for an overnight train to Paris in a small french town in the south east corner called Perpignian. My room in Metz is still 18 hours away!
As I think back at our journey to Barcelona; The place I had been looking forward to since even before I left. But it was not to be. I have mixed emotions about my day and a half there. This posting is more about people and other smaller incidents that seem irrelevant but are actually memorable.

As the train arrived in Barcelona, I could feel my excitement. After all this is what I had been looking forward to. This is the city I wanted to be in. This would be a great end to this wonderful trip to Spain I thought as we arrived in Barcelona Sants. Taking a metro to Ramblas square, as we got out, the sun along with multitudes of people greeted us at the gorgeous square, which had more tourists than I had seen in all of Spain till then. Britishers, French, Russians, Italians, everyone from everywhere was roaming this gorgeous plaza, that was lined with restaurants, bars, and souvenir shops. Our hostel was off one of the small streets on this plaza. After checking in we left at once to a major part of town. The main attraction here was an unusual building designed by Anthony Gaudi. Though I didn't pay to go up this building, it didn't take too much to appreciate its artistic characteristics. The three of us decided to roam Barcelona. We walked and we walked, moving again in the direction of the setting sun. From major shopping streets, to neighborhoods to business centers we saw it all. Most of the time we were moving towards a huge tower like building that curved at the top. As we got closer and closer, its magnanimity became clearer to us. The building soared into the sky, and we lay on the ground looking at the sky trying to trace its reach. Night had fallen, and we had become very casual and comfortable. We were having a great time in each others company. But a big blow awaited me. As I walked up the stairs off the metro station close to our hostel, I was suddenly interrupted by a Spanish woman from the behind. Before I could understand what was going on, and what she was trying to tell me, I realized someone had picked my wallet, and it was a group of 2 ladies I saw walking away into the huge market that was right in front. It happened so quickly, none of us knew how to react. Should we catch hold of the lady next to us, or follow the one that went into the market. And in that daze she disappeared into the huge market. For a few hours, my spirits were a little dampened, but I came out of it. I decided to make the most of it.

A little dejected me and my friend found ourselves at a Turkish joint. It turned out to be a great time, as the person working there was Pakistani and we engaged in conversation that was a mix of English, Hindhi, Urdu and a little bit of Spanish thrown in. Over the great shawarma and rice, we talked and I decided to give Barcelona and it's people another chance.
Three of us headed to find the beach for the night. After walking for about 45 minutes, we saw it. 3 clubs one after the other on the pristine beach of Barcelona. The one we went into was called Shoko and it was one of the best clubs I have ever been to. A huge dance floor spread across a few levels, with a mix of house and popular music playing. There was an outside area right off the beach, had tables and a great view of the sea. As we danced the night away, I had already forgotten the incident in the evening, and was liking the city all over again. In retrospect, what happened after the club, was a fitting end to the trip. We walked out the club towards the beach, took of our shoes, and sat in the cold sand looking at the Mediterranean for the first time. Sitting there, with the rush of the clubs in the background, a magnificent Westin hotel towering into the sky east of us, and rocks on the west, we stared straight into the sea. .The waves were small; They were calming. We saw a brilliantly lit ship depart from a port on one end and moved across from east to west in front of us. I sat there, soaking it all in. All the people I had met. All the food I had had. All the memories I will take back. It was a fitting end; Cuddled in each others arms for warmth we took a taxi home.
Muchos Gracias we said getting off!

Me and Josiah left Barcelona for Cerbere, a town in the south east just across the border from Spain, at 3 in the afternoon. A little heavy hearted for leaving but glad to be going home at the same time. A few trains later through some of the most picturesque small french towns, we made it to Perpignian, hoping we would be able to get a reservation to somewhere. Being back in France, seeing the signs in French, hearing people speaking in the unmistakable French, it feels like I am back home; in a way it feels nice. When I reached Spain, I thought Spaniards were the sweetest people. Coming back to France, I knew at once I was back, as I was met by a rude lady, not willing to help at the Cerbere station. A little ticked off we arrived in Perpignian, to be met by the sweetest lady behind the counter. She went out of her way to help us, always had a smile, worked past the closing and found us a way to get to Metz. I change what I said at first. You can meet all kinds of people everywhere. Weather it be the women that stole my wallet, to the woman who helped us get our train back, more than anything I have met a lot of people on this trip. And one thing that I have come to realize is, if you try to adjust, if you try to understand their ways, they will help you and they will be nice to you. I said to the old lady at the counter as we left , “Je dit aux mes amis que les francais sont les meilieurs.”(I tell my friends that the French are the best) And I say it now again, with the odd rude or bad person you can find everywhere, you will find more people who will try to help you out; but with a slight stipulation to the tune of the old saying, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do!”

This closes an amazing chapter of an amazing trip. I have wonderful memories of the people, the food and the places of Spain! I would love to go back sometime. As of now, it is onto the train to Paris, and a few trains after home at last!

…..I had thought, that when I get home, that this blog would be ready to post, but little did I know there was a little more drama left....

After finishing the last bit of my account of Barcelona and Spain, it was about 30 minutes to our overnight to Paris. Still amazed at how we had managed to get a reservation, we sat at the station anxiously, now eager to get home. It was extremely windy as we got on the Corail Lunea, the night trains run by SNCF. We had booked sleepers and had the bottom two in a 6 sleeper room. But there was no one else in the room, as the train started moving, and after chatting a little and reading a bit, I fell asleep. I awoke around 1 am to find ourselves parked at Toulouse Mataibau station, and didn't bother much and fell asleep again. A minute before my alarm rang to awaken me to our arrival in Paris, I woke by myself, looked outside, and saw the same signboard saying Toulouse Mataibau. I checked my watch again and woke up with a start and didn't really understand why we had been standing there all night. In my daze I asked a passenger as to when we would get to Paris and was told at 2pm. We went back to sleep, knowing there was nothing else that could be done. We were awoken to another announcement to switch to another TGV as our train had been canceled. Weary and tired passengers lugging their suitcases and bags rushed off the train towards the other train.
After a little confusion as to where we needed to sit, we found ourselves in a bunch of seats, with a Moroccan man, a French girl who had finished interning in Barcelona returning to Paris, a group of 2nd generation Algerians and an old French man. A 5 hour journey ahead, this would turn out be really interesting! As we got to know very soon, the Moroccan man was a very animated fellow; he loved politics and talked about it in about the number of languages on one of our hands. French, Spanish, Arabic and English. He made gestures and spoke very passionately. Every now and then he would pull out something from his duffel bag to get the attention of the group; whether it be natural perfume he had got from Saudi Arabia, or the picture of his young son in his wallet or the multiple magic tricks he showed us. He was almost magical, someone who was born in the wrong age. He provided a lot of entertainment I must say. The other young French lady, Xavier, we ended up becoming quite good buddies with. We talked and we joked and we talked more about traveling and politics and food and all that is great about France.(She was the first French person to admit that French is not a great language. Very surprising) The 5 hours on the train from Toulouse to Paris passed by sort of quickly, with the constant animation of the Moroccan with us and the Algerians and with the new French friend we made. We arrived at Paris Montparnasse amongst chaos. As it turns out, there had been a huge storm the previous night, which had delayed multiple trains and canceled many. The French girl on her way to Paris Gare Du Nord dropped us off at Paris Est from where we hoped to take an alternate train home. After talking to a SNCF official and a train conductor we managed to hop onto a train to Metz, without any seat. As we sat outside the compartment on the small fold-able chairs next to the doors, we looked back at the amazing trip, the amazing people and the amazing places we had been to. As we sped past the green fields, we were glad to be home!
I guess, Home is definitely where the heart lies!!
I'm in my room now, and it feels kinda good!!