Ugh, the airport. I don’t want another repeat of last night. It turns out I was indeed in the right terminal, the same one as Ashlee, but I didn’t know that so, thinking she had flown with another airline, I caught the bus to the other terminal. Once there, I found that she was nowhere to be seen, so I went back to my original terminal to see if she was on the flight I originally suspected as hers. Once again, she was nowhere to be seen. Mind you, all of this was interspersed with walking, waiting, walking, looking, waiting, and trying to get around locked doors. (Who knew airports get locked up?! My dad would, I guess, but I didn’t quite expect it) Well, not knowing if I’d just barely missed Ashlee, I finally plopped down around 2:40 am to get some shut-eye.
I woke up every hour, hour and a half and finally got up and going around 6-something; somehow I’d gotten it in my head that Ashlee had mentioned wanting to meet at our hostel at 7 am when we could check in. All I could assume was that she’d gone to look for me and or had gone on to the hostel, so I needed to get there pronto. A bus ride, a train ride and transfer and another bus ride and frequent questions eventually brought me to my destination. Me being me, I felt frustrated with Ashlee for not giving me more information to meet up with her and for leaving me so stranded—what if we never met up, or, or, or…?!? Basically, my anger/frustration stemmed from fear. However, I believe Heavenly Father was there to help because, as I realized later today, I didn’t even really consider potential problems that could come up along the way while looking for the correct path to the hostel, at least not until just before arriving at each stop, so I didn’t get uncontrollably overwhelmed. And I even felt happy at times along the way, such as when I saw the sun rise and shine on the clouds over the Barcelonan countryside or when I saw the Mediterranean Sea for the first time!
Nevertheless, I was exhausted and sore, so you can imagine my relief at discovering that the camp at the end of my Ashlee-sent instructions was in reality the site of my hostel. There were two surprises waiting for me there: Ashlee’s continuing absence and my sudden need to pay for our hostel. Huh, I hadn’t even seriously considered that I would arrive before her, especially since I got there around 10, 10:30. The price of the hostel? 12 euros per person per night. Sweet deal, right? Yes and no. The stay itself is inexpensive, but I had to pay a 150 euro deposit! I did it to be done with it, and I’ll get it back, so big whoop.
They drove me to the bungalow we’re staying in, where I then contemplated my options: Go find the internet to see if she’d tried to contact me while risking missing each other again or wait and sleep in the meantime. I decided to take a moment to pray, thanking Heavenly Father for helping me survive and arrive safely at the hostel and praying for Ashlee’s safe arrival as well. Soon enough I was napping, and around noon I heard a knock! It was her! Apparently, she’d been on a flight I’d suspected, but she had stayed behind security whereas I’d had to come out to get my checked bag. Plus, she stayed there longer than I did, leaving the airport at 9-something. (As she duly pointed out, I should’ve known better than to expect her to voluntarily get up early, especially while on vacation!)
Pleased with our lodging and finally being together (fear averted!), we decided to go get something real to eat—no more of this bread, French shortbread cookies, and taffy nonsense. Later, we decided to wander around a bit with a goal of ending up at the Mediterranean Sea to go swimming. We even grabbed a map. Heading in the direction of the closest water we could see, we embarked on what became more of an adventure than either of us had anticipated. We went on foot. I’m still having mixed feelings about combining wandering with using the map…some streets and paths we saw weren’t listed and some listed weren’t to be seen. Two or three hours after commencing this unexpectedly epic adventure, we made it to the sea! It was rocky and there were fishers nearby, so we walked along the tracks toward the sandier patch of beach “nearby,” but that required either walking on the tracks themselves or on lumpy, awkward rocks.
Our relief at arriving at the sparsely used beach quickly became shocked surprise as we realized that the man reposing on the sand, the man and woman playing Frisbee, the Asian dude meditating on the playa…they were all conspicuously missing something I’d consider vital: clothes! I now have a new view on the pros of wearing a Speedo! We thus had two options, one being to return the way we’d come; the other, to continue on, possibly into denser patches of nudes! As Ashlee put it, we were between the rocks and a hard place!
In the end, not wanting to go back on the rocks and seeing potentially promising spots of beach ahead, I suggested we go on. Ashlee wanted to, also, just to be able to say she’d walked through a nude beach and blog about it. ;) Thankfully, the rest of the beach was full of “normal” people and we enjoyed just standing in the cool water, barefoot in the sand, taking in the sea while soaking our poor feet and chatting it up.
I’m so glad Ashlee was with me! The series of (un)fortunate events at the airport, the hostel, and in this odd place with crazy roads and people outside Barcelona wouldn’t be the same without her humor and presence. Thanks to her, my first experience with a nude beach was shocking, but hilarious. I think I will be quite happy with something a bit tamer but still hilarious tomorrow.
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