Jet setting

Alright, go on... I'll admit it... I'll put my hands up in the air and say... I'm a lucky little so-and-so getting to do this whole year abroad malarkey and the travelling and experiences that it allows. And the last two weeks have been a perfect example and an apt reminder of this fact thanks to two consecutive weekends spent being a professional jet setter.

Two weekends ago Jean, Tom and I headed to Lisbon for a mini break. VERY mini break would probably be more accurate considering we arrived late Friday afternoon and left again early on Sunday morning. But the short-lived nature of our visit certainly didn't mar the experience. Upon arrival we dumped our stuff off at our snazzy hostel and went straight back out in search of the castle of São Jorge which was an awesome site that would make the perfect setting for some sort of Medieval drama. Or a scene from LOTR. Or Harry Potter. Suffice to say, it was epic and beautiful. We then turned to trusty Trip Advisor to point us somewhere for dinner and our little pal didn't disappoint - we ended up feasting on wine and tapas in a trendy little cafe/bar which was run by an equally trendy gay couple. I was pretty much in heaven. On Saturday we started off at the oceanarium (penguins = joy) and then we headed to Belém, a lovely historical area in the West of the city. We saw the famous Jerónimos monastery, the Belém tower and the impressive Discovery Monument in homage to the Portugese age of discovery. But all of these fantastic sights, steeped in history and culture, paled in comparison to the experience of the mighty Pastéis de Belém . These are the little egg tarts that the area is famous for. If you've never tasted something that has made you exclaim with joy and delight; clench your fist and punch the air in pure elation, get yourself to Lisbon now for a taste of heaven. On Sunday morning we rose with just enough time to ride one of the iconic yellow trams that trundle around the city (speaking of trams, did you know that Gaudi was killed by a tram?! Fact of the day.) before heading to the airport to catch the plane back home! Verdict: I like Lisbon. I like it a lot.

Now, as if that wasn't spectacular enough, the very next Thursday I woke up early mearly to head back to Asturias airport (which is beginning to feel like a second home) to head to my favourite city in all the world: Barcelona. I spent the day wandering the streets, taking in sights and sounds and being deliriously excited about the ticket to see The XX at the Poble Espanyol that night that was tucked away in my bag. At 6pm I went to meet my long-lost-friend from school - the wonderful Katie Holloway and we had a truly superb evening full of sangria, strawberries, new American friends, beer and tapas and, of course, The XX who blew my freakin' mind.

The next day I left Katie again (sadly) and went to check in at our hostel. 'Our?' I hear you cry... 'But who were you with?!' Well, those of you with Facebook may have noticed a recently uploaded album featuring an obscene amount of pictures of a certain dashing young man sporting an outrageous pair of lime green sunglasses. Sian and Dave hit Barcelona, 2K13. What followed was a long weekend that is hard to put into words. So I'll just make a rambling list instead: We drank more Sangria and beer and wine of every colour and gin and tonic and mojitos than I thought physically possible. We ate paella in the sunshine and we sampled fusion cuisine in a tiny little Arabic restaurant in the Barri Gotic. We saw the Magic Fountains of Mountjiuc and wandered up to the National Palace. We went to Parc Guell and the Sagrada Familia (which is worth every penny spent. It's a jaw dropper.) We spent an afternoon on the beach and ate lots of ice cream and we went in the cable car out across the port. We did ALL THE THINGS!

Look! It's Dave! In Barcelona!

Basically, we made up for months on end of seperation and skype-dates and whatsapps in style. Dear Barcelona, I love you long time, love Sian.

I've now been surfing a grand total of five times. And the reality still isn't quite living up to the Baywatch dream. I think I've swallowed my own body weight in seawater. And the other day I got caught in a current and couldn't get back to shore and had to have a little cry because my arms hurt too much to paddle and all I could picture were swarms of sharks and jellyfish and octupi circling round like vultures waiting for me to pop my clogs. AND (disclaimer: what follows is a disgusting story) on Friday I was minding my own buisness at 8pm, a full 7 hours after having been surfing, when a torrent of seawater suddenly shot out of my nose!! For real. I am the epitome of cool.

Hasta luego.

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