This is being written after finishing a glass of Sangria (which is essentially two glasses of wine) and having barely slept in two days AND having weathered various unbelievable travel hiccups.

Barcelona is a place for partiers, meaning those who want to celebrate. My eyes keep closing. This is going to be a problem.

Well, suffice it to say I’m not dead. And the Gothic quarter feels like a commercialized medieval town. This is where I’m staying. I can hear those outside my balcony exalting in the youngness of the night and not writing up their thoughts on a blog. What’s wrong with them.

Going to bed. Eyes won’t let me type anymore.