It is an end of an era – ok, only 5 days but it feels like a short lifetime. But in a good way. How do I even begin to describe the Barcelona Dreams hostel on La Rambla other than to say it seems closer to a free loving commune than a hostel with a mix of Scrivens thrown in. There was the curious incident of too many guests in the middle of the night which led to much bed swapping and kitchen floor sleeping. The place is occupied on a semi-permanent basis by three Israeli guys who have a mix of Polish backgrounds and some connections to the Russian Mafia that you wouldn’t want to question too deeply. Bizarrely, they have an unbeatable knack for making houmous.
Add to the mix a large group of Polish students, the aussie boys (who have kindly adopted me), a continual flow of travellers blowing in from Columbia and, of course the obligatory Italians, who the rest of us can collectively hate, and the ingredients make for a potent mix. Spinkle on a gallon or two of wine, chain smoking and raised voices and the scene is set for a time zone I’m comfortable with – bed at 4am, up around mid-day. These are my kind of people.
It has been a truly wonderful experience and I am going to be sad to say goodbye to this place. But what is nice in a way is that the party seems to be coming to a natural close. John, the 20 something manager of the place (who is clearly not called John) is moving to France to live with his girlfriend in Marseille and they leave today also (not before offering everyone a free lift to France – that is the kind of place this is). The Polish girls headed back this morning and the aussies are reaching the end of the road too. So, tonight, as I don my back pack once more, the hostel will be near empty. It feels appropriate to say: can the last one to leave please turn the lights off. Bye-bye Barclona Dreams, I will miss you.
Tonight I board a boat and head to Rome for my next chapter.