Helloooo New Years in Barcelona

Friends...

So, 10 days late, but Happy New Year!!!

Hope the resolutions are holding up thus far, and the decisions from an evening 10 days ago are fading. As for NYE in Barcelona, there is much to be said. The hostel Jarred and I stayed in provided a huge dinner (Lot's of cured meats and cheese, yum) and some Sangria. We sat with 2 guys from Milan, or as we now know it as "The REAL Jersey Shore," a nerd alert kid from Colombia, (University, not country), a woman from Japan who became very giggly off of a small glass of sangria, and Steve, a fellow who visited from Sheffield, right outside of London. The eclectic mix of accents and language barriers truly prompted the liquor consumption.

Around 11:30, Jarred and I jumped ship and booked it down to the beach where massive fireworks and "The Countdown" took place. We ran into a very nice gypsy who sold us a bottle of Cava (my favorite) for 5 euros. For Jarred, the rest of the night is history. We waited for a big countdown, and caught it at 6. Having to count up from 1 to 6 in Spanish to know exactly what number everyone was saying put us counting down at 4, and cheering abundantly around what we thought was everyone cheering Happy New Years! Having had Cava AND grapes, a NYE tradition in Spain, there was every reason to cheer!

At this time, we made our way to a bar and celebrated with some lovely women from France. Jarred tried taking pictures of one of the women when she lost her phone, and said "her reaction is priceless to the missing phone." It was then that I realized he had the CRAZY in his eye. Clearly, I am far too familiar with this look, as I often see it staring back at me in the mirror or later in photos after debaucherous evenings, so I made the decision then and there that instead of potentially getting arrested in Spain for, It was better if he and I trotted on home. On the way, as a 5 year old child would, Jarred whined that he needed to use the bathroom. And since some of us know, he enjoys peeing on things, we ran to an off street so he could pee behind some trash cans. (Fabulous way to start the new year off, eh, Jarred).

We made it home in one piece, truly the beginning of our European adventures. The next morning, we flew, (Rested for me, hurting for him) to Malaga in southern Spain. We ended up in a nice hotel after wandering the streets for an hour with overloaded backpackers' backpacks, and looking very much foreign. Since we woke up in our hostel that morning with the stench of old feet and booze, a clean, private room, complete with fresh towels and a double bed, life seemed as if heaven opened it's doors!

Filling you in on Malaga to Granada, back to Malaga, and to Paris is preparing for another day- meaning everyone should prepare themselves for 87 pictures of Jarred and I in front of the Eiffel Tower. More to come...