barcelona on 17.01°c and a student’s budget

i woke up to the sound of trains screeching outside my hostel in barcelona. not the romantic kind, just a constant reminder that this city runs on chaos. it’s 17.01°c here according to the weather app, which is perfect for spending 80 euros on a single cup of coffee. i say perfect because i’m a budget student and this coffee cost more than half my weekly groceries. i just checked and it’s like that-consistent, undramatic, and somehow still expensive. hope you like that kind of thing.

my roommate, a guy who probably regrets every life choice that led him here, told me this morning that the best way to save money is to eat what the locals eat. which makes sense, right? but then he said something later about a place called ‘el sidr’ where the tapas were €12 and the vibe was ‘we’re all here to suffer together.’ we both laughed. i think he meant it. i heard that from a drunk tourist in a plaza last night. someone told me that if you wander into the wrong part of gran volez during rush hour, you might get mistaken for a street performer. i didn’t believe it until i saw a guy in a tuxedo juggling potatoes. he was paid. probably.

the people here are wild. i swear my neighbor, luisa, has been practicing parkour in our balcony. i heard her shouting ‘vault!’ at 3 am while wearing whatever mismatched pajamas she could find. she’s a yoga instructor by day, which is ironic because her ‘practice’ last time involved unrolling a yoga mat on the pavement and using it as a skateboard. i’m not sure if that’s dedication or a coping mechanism. either way, she’s partly responsible for my bruised ego when she tripped over my laundry.

the weather’s been this 17°c foggy mess since monday. i checked the forecast again this morning and it’s still there-wavy, gray, and slightly colder than a점으로. i put on a vest over my band t-shirt, which is ironic because i bought that t-shirt in rio de janeiro. it’s soaked through now. i dared someone to guess which continent it’s from. no one did. i’m starting to think time zones are a scam. speaking of scams, someone warned me about a fake hostel near plaça real. i checked yelp and it’s rated 2 stars because the ‘free wifi’ was actually a pay-per-minute hotspot. i didn’t book it. i’m still paranoid about that.

if you get bored, valencia is just a 10-minute train ride away. but don’t go there during april. i heard that’s when the locals all come out to fight over the last frozen churro. i didn’t take that seriously until i saw a guy in a beret yelling about ‘raisins!’ at a food truck. it might’ve been a performance. might not.

i went to el sidr anyway. the line was 20 people deep. i ordered a patatine con huevo and it was tiny. like, ‘i paid 12 euros for a snack that could fit in my fist’ small. but the staff laughed about it. they said something about ‘spanish hospitality’ which i think is code for ‘we’re all poor and pretending we’re not.’ the place had that ‘overheard gossip’ energy. a bunch of tourists were whispering about a guy who bought a €500 paella platter and then immediately complained it was cold. i’m not sure if he was trolling or just bitter.

here’s a map if you’re lost. or if you just want to lose yourself.

i took some photos today. the light was so gray it looked like a bad painting. i don’t care. i posted them anyway.

i read a review on tripadvisor that said ‘the best thing about barcelona is that it doesn’t care about you.’ it was anonymous, which makes it more believable. i overheard someone else say that the city’s heartbeat is a 3 am metro station. i went to eixample station last night and it was empty except for a man crying into a guitar case. he looked like he’d just lost a bet. i asked him what was wrong. he said, ‘i thought i’d found love. turns out it was just a vending machine.’ i left before he said anything else.

the neighbors here are either professionals at ignoring me or they’re part of some secret club. i tried to ask luisa about it once. she just handed me a bag of olives and said, ‘trust me, you’ll thank me later.’ i didn’t. i ate them in the shower and realized they were saltier than my ex’s texts.

i’m writing this on a train now. heading to geralzar for a ‘free’ concert. it’s probably just a guy with a ukulele and a sad face. that’s fine. i’ve been low on funds for 37 days straight. i just checked the weather app again. it’s still 17.01°c. and still expensive. hope you like that kind of thing.

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