The date is now December 29th, 2006 and we are up bright and early in the morning getting all packed up for another big adventure. This time, Karla and I packed all of our belongings into our suitcases, waved good-bye to Peterborough and the three of us (Brianne, Karla and Me) headed out on a train to Gatwick Airport to catch our Easyjet flight to Barcelona, Spain. I thought I’d surprise you by throwing this in here (incase you didn’t know), you see… while we were in Peterborough we decided we’d like to visit another country as well, seeing as we’ve come this far already. We were originally trying to visit to Amsterdam, Holland, and visit a colleague of mine while were there; however, hotels were booked solid over new years eve. So with the help of a local travel agent we decided Barcelona would be a great side-trip adventure and booked it.

Our flight to Barcelona was great on a brand new Airbus A319. Since it was a smaller plane than the 767 we flew over here on, and it was very windy on take off, we did get thrown around a little bit. I found out on this flight (and the flight back) that my little sister is somewhat of a nervous flyer. haha… She ended up rubbing that bad habit off on Karla to a small extent.

Once we landed in Barcelona, we quickly realized what we had done. See, Karla and I are historically the “all-inclusive” type of vacationers… not travelers. We now realized no one was there to take us to our hotel and we had to fend for ourselves. haha… We ended up getting into a cab and saying to the driver “Espana Hotel”, hoping that he would know what we were talking about… he did not, so we got out our little Barcelona hand-book that Brianne happened to pick-up and pointed. After a few minutes of looking at a little map, we were off.

After about 15 minutes of driving the driver pulls up and points to a hotel, which was quite obviously not the “Espana Hotel”, we knew this because the signage clearly stated some other Spanish name. We were confused now… where the heck was our hotel? I sort of felt like the driver wanted us out of his cab, but seeing as it was after midnight, in a city we’d never been to, where the speak a language we don’t speak, I wasn’t getting out until we found our hotel.

The cab driver was nice enough to use his cell phone to call the hotel to get this straighten around. The news was not what I wanted to hear; you could not actually drive to our hotel the driver said. He took out his map and told us that he would drop us off at X destination, and made a walking motion with his fingers, pointing up five blocks. Oh great. So he drove us to the bottom of La Rambla (which if we would have done some research first, we would have known what that was) and we got out with all of our suitcases and started walking up the busy street. After what seemed like much more than five blocks we found the side street that our hotel was on. I was somewhat scared of this side street, which looked more like a dark alley to me… but anyways.

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