¿A qué hora cierra el metro?

After school today, we took a trip through Spain's gothic quarters. (See picture) It's exactly what you expect Spain to look like. Small, winding streets with only foot traffic (with the exception of the crazed locals on mopeds searching for a shortcut). There were so many amazing shops I was almost glad I left my Amex at the apartment. Some of the buildings were from the roman empire, others built in the 14th century, others the 16th. It was charming and interesting all at the same time. By the end of the trip, we had been walking for an hour and a half and my feet were not well equipped in my sandals. I was getting pretty tired.

We returned to our apartments and I rested up, determined to keep my promise to Scott that we'd venture out tonight. We decided to head to Barceloneta, the "boardwalk" of Barcelona. We were leaving around 10 and I had a few minutes to hang out with Lita and Ana (a pompous 17 year old Polish girl living here too) to watch the Uruguay vs. Nederlands game. Ana is horrifically irritating to be around. She always makes snide remarks about Americans and Lita always rolls her eyes because Ana is being so rude. She can't help it though.... she's Polish, and we all know they aren't that bright.

Scott and I got down to Barceloneta through the metro and had some sangria by the beach. It was a gorgeous night and we were really enjoying ourselves. That is, until we realized the metros stop at 12 am and it was 11:45. We sure as hell weren't walking so we asked for the check. The check came on Spanish time (about 8 minutes later) and we had 7 minutes to get to the subway stop. Not nearly enough. We saw a bunch of Spaniards sprinting and we made the snap judgement they must be sprinting toward the metro... and we were right! We flew passed people taking strolls, laughing all the way to the subway, knowing we were cutting it close. We got to the station at 11:58. I grabbed my metro card, shoved it in the turntable and took off running through the station. It was 100 degrees and we were dying. We ran down the steps (of course every station has about a million) and down a tunnel then down a few more steps. That's when we heard it. The hiss of a subway train having just stopped at the station. We took off in a full sprint, we could see the train now. Down a few more stairs, through the platform, just in time to.... touch the doors as the closed. Damn it. Were we really walking?! All the way back?! It would be like from the battery up to Hell's Kitchen. No way. We stood there looking at each other for a second, contemplating what we should do. A taxi maybe? We decided to stick it out and see if MAYBE, just maybe, one more would come. 8 minutes later our waiting paid off... and we laughed, sweaty and tired, as we got on the subway and rode it all the way home.

Last night was a little taste of Barcelona but I am anxiously waiting for tonight... when Spain plays Germany in the World Cup. I know Spain's chances aren't exactly phenomenal but I have faith; and what's more, I'm in Spain and I have a reason to celebrate :)