The Camino Gypsy Chronicles: Let's Go Barcelona!

"Bringazingzing!...Bringazazzlering!" Why is it that European phones make the oddest and most inconsistent ringing sounds? This particular songstress woke me up with a start at 11:45pm last night. I flung off my eye mask and picked up the receiver, dazed and half asleep. "Hola?" I answered; at least I remembered my Spanish. A flurry of words from the man on the other end followed, none of which my tired mind understood other than the magical phrase, "Your bag is here. I bring it up now". Hurriedly I pulled on my pants since, the airport having lost my bag, I had no pjs. A loud knock later, and I was reunited with my Precious.

What was hard to explain to the man at the baggage counter and the receptionist at the hotel is the value of this backpack. "Don't worry señorita; it will come mañana". Now, if this were a week's vacation, sure, de nada. This happened to me in Mexico. I complained for a few hours, and then bought myself an all-purpose sarong and headed to the pool. But a bag that I packed over the course of 6 months, weighing each piece ounce-by-ounce? A whole 'nother ballpark. Losing THAT bag is worthy of a jump out the window down the elevator shaft in last night's sardine can hotel room. That's right. The only window in the room opened into the heavily trafficked elevator shaft. (Needless to say, we have since upgraded...)

After waiting 2 hours on the Tarmac for the last leg of our flight, then watching with pitiful eyes and a sinking heart as the baggage conveyer refused to puke out my backpack, then getting into a room that looked fit for padded walls, then realizing I forgot to activate international calling on my phone so the airport couldn't reach me, then eating paella that looked as if it might get up and walk out the room, all the while suffering from an ill-timed cold, and I was just about at my wits end.

Then I remembered our trip motto. Sauce, Taste, Toss. So I curled up in a fetal position on the miniature mattress in our room, had myself a good 5 minute cry, picked myself back up and called out the battle cry, "Let's go Barcelona!" Here's what I figure: better to start at your lowest point, because it's only up from there,baby. And after hugging my backpack in the night like it were my prodigal son, a day of touring the city in the sunshine, finding an amazing vegetarian restaurant to call home and sucking down chocolatey pastries, I'd say things are looking way up.