Backpacking (Western) Europe

Did you know that Montjuic literally means 'hill of the Jews'?

True to our previous day's plans, Juliana met us right in front of the Hard Rock Cafe around 4pm and took us over to Montjuic, where the Palau National and the Art Museum are located.

After touring the National Palace, we headed over to a Salvador Dali exhibit and enjoyed some of his surrealist works. Shortly after, we headed back into Barcelona and Juliana took us to a Champagneria where we stuffed ourselves with jamon y queso sandwiches, varied tapas, and drank 2 euro champagne! The Champagneria set-up is exactly like that of a club-- overpacked with sweaty people drinking, and loud music blasting. The only difference was that the dancing was replaced with the eating.

After eating and drinking, we thanked Juliana for taking us out, exchanged infos with the promise to keep in touch, hugged her goodbye and parted ways.

That afternoon, heading towards Barri Gotic, we stopped by a souvenir shop to look around for the classic shirt with a bull logo. This Indian store owner followed me around as I took various shirts to try on. He kept coming over and handing me more shirts (I was buying these shirts for H by the way) and since I was having a hard time pulling the neck part of the shirts over myself, I knew H wouldn't be able to get them anywhere over his enlarged head. I said 'thanks' to the guy and proceeded to walk out. He walks to the entrance, blocks my path, and screams 'You try on all these shirts, you don't buy one-- you Americans are all the same! I want you to fold them. You fold them and then I let you leave!'

What do you think I did?

Well, since Jene was nowhere in sight, and this lunatic was blocking the path and could've easily hit me if I tried to escape, I decided to 'pretend fold' one of the shirts until I could go for a quick getaway. Meanwhile, he was standing there yelling at me 'No, I don't like the way you fold. Do it again!'

Not too long later, Jene peeks her head in and the guy gets startled and slightly clears the entrance. I throw down the shirts and run out. He yells 'You Americans are stupid! Don't come back!' I yell an obscenity at him, and flip him off. I wished I could've taken a picture of him, but I'm sure he would've chased after me and broke my camera. Damn bitter store owner whom probably hurled all his pent-up frustrations at me from years of unsold souvenirs.

After that crazy episode, Jene and I went to yet another restaurant to eat our fave dish-- paella-- stopped by an internet cafe, and found ourselves somehow wandering into an adult store. The XXX stores in Spain pretty much contains your usual items found in any typical adult store. Here in Barcelona, there was one exception to the rule: A Viking hat with horns (like the ones they wear in the opera when 'the fat lady sings') but with small vaginas decorating the helmet section.

I still curse myself to this day that I didn't take a picture of it.

Barcelona was fun (and insane) but it was time to get moving. We packed up our things, walked to the train station as it began to sprinkle, and continued along to another leg of the journey.