Fira de Santa Llucia

Barcelona has already turned on it's Christmas lights and the festive spirit has hit the streets.

One of my favourite things about Christmas in Barcelona is heading down to the Fira de Santa Llucia to buy a Christmas tree... Don't forget to check out these markets!

Fira de Santa Llucia

Dating from 1786, the Fira de Santa Llucia is a Christmas fair held every December outside Barcelona Cathedral. Around 300 market stalls sell seasonal goodies, while nativity scenes, musical parades and exhibitions add to the fun.

Another activity at the Fira de Santa Llucia is the giant caga tió, a huge, smiley-faced "log" that drops out presents when kids beat it with a stick.

The caga tió is a character in Catalan mythology relating to Christmas tradition and many families keep one in their homes during the festive season (small versions are on sale at the Fira de Santa Llucia's market). Beginning with the Feast of the Immaculate Conception on 8 December, children give the tió something to "eat" every day and cover him with a blanket to keep him warm at night. On Christmas day the log is put in the fireplace and children beat it with sticks while singing traditional songs. Much like a Mexican piñanta, the log then drops out sweets, nuts, dried figs and Turrón (a Spanish nougat). When nothing is left, the exhausted caga tió drops a salt herring to indicate it has finished bearing gifts. Strange but true.

When: 29 Nov - 23 Dec 2008 (annual)
Where: Barcelona Cathedral

Cost: Free
Opening Hours: Daily 10am-10pm

Merry Christmas to all of us here at HelloBCN Hostel...

Christmas in Barcelona

Christmas is almost here... Hard to believe that we are coming to the end of another year. For some it's a time to take a break and celebrate all the good things (and perhaps work on forgetting about the bad things) that 2008 has brought us. Here at HelloBCN Hostel, we're getting ready for all the festive spirits that will pass through our door.

Traditionally in Spain Christmas is celebrated on the Christmas Eve (24th of December), however here in Catalonia Christmas is generally celebrated on the 25th of December.

We are inviting all guests who will be staying with us on the night of the 25th of December to join us for lunch. For those of you who will be away from your loved ones during the festive season, we want to invite you to celebrate with the HelloBCN family!!!

Reserve now at www.hellobcnhostel.com

Skint

Things have been getting a little tight lately. I've lost two of my three part-time jobs, my girlfriend's in town, my minimal tax return is at least another six weeks away and my cornflake diet is wearing a bit thin.
Hopefully you'll be endowed with a bit more cash during your visit to Barcelona, but if you're struggling or simply want to save a bit of extra cash for later in your journey, these tips might come in handy...

Better tapas for less, and LOTS more of it.

Tapas is not a type of food so much as a style of eating. The word tapas means 'small servings'. Unless you're prepared to spend upwards of 20 euros per head, you'll be lucky to fill yourself up on anything but the most basic dishes, whereas twenty euros spent sensibly at a supermarket will feed three, maybe four.

What about the preparation? How do you make tapas? Easy. Many tapas dishes are served cold, and it's easy to prepare some delicious hot dishes such as patatas bravas (fried potato chunks), salchichas (sauasages) and tortilla (potato/egg/vegetable tarts). Believe me, with a tiny bit of effort, you'll be able to prepare food better than you'd get at most of the affordable joints in town, which are often TERRIBLE.

Emburtidos (Cold meat platter)
Buy yourself some jamon curado (cured ham), chorizo or fuet (local sausages similar to long, narrow salami), sobrasada (a soft, meat and tomato dish in sausage or paste form), and any of the many other varieties of meat stocked by all supermarkets. Simply unwrap it, arrange it all to your fancy on a plate, and Roberto's your uncle. In Spain, red meat, especially jamon, is treated much as other nations treat their red wines. Much as a professional wine-taster can tell the difference between a 1996 and a 1995 Penfolds Grange, jamon conoisseurs can tell the difference between the flesh of the acorn-fed black pig (jamon iberico) and the mountain-bred white pig (jamon serrano). The best can identify the regions in which they were bred, the quality of the breed itself and the age of the meat. Iberico is usually very dark in colour and can cost up to 145 euros per kilo, but don't worry, you can get some half-decent jamon for 11 euros a kilo, and you only need a about 100 grams per person on your platter.

200 grams jamon curado: €2.40
150 gram stick of fuet: €1.35
200 grams salami & chorizo slices: €1.75

Thats a three-person, four-meat platter for only €5.50

2: Plato de quesos (Cheese platter)

The same principle as emburtidos, but with cheese. Try to include a mix of hard and soft, light, medium and strong cheeses. Hard cheeses are generally older than soft cheeses. Sheep's milk is used for the stronger stuff, cow's milk for the milder varieties. Cabra (goat's cheese) is a very rich, soft, spreadable cheese usually served in a small wheel. Sprinkle a few walnuts, pines nuts and raisins over it all. Again, the supermarkets stock an adequate range, but as for most foodstuffs, the markets are where you'll find the best stuff. Check out the Boqueria, a great fresh food market just off La Rambla, about three hundres metres down from Plaza Catalunya on the right.

Pre-packed cheese platter for three: €3.99
A really good home-made platter from from the boqueria: €8.00

3: Pan con Tomata

A very simple but delicious way of preparing bread. Get the best baguette you can afford. Slice it. Toast it. Squeeze a tomato over each slice, rubbing the pulp into the bread. Season with salt and pepper (and provincial herbs if you have an extra euro).

Decent grain baguette: €1.50
Three tomatoes: €1.00
Salt and pepper: Free at the hostel

Total: €2.50

4: Sangria

There are heaps of good sangria recipes on the net. Thanks to allrecipes for this one.

• 1/2 cup brandy
• 1/4 cup lemon juice
• 1/3 cup frozen lemonade concentrate
• 1/3 cup orange juice
• 1 (750 milliliter) bottle dry red wine
• 1/2 cup triple sec
• 1 lemon, sliced into rounds
• 1 orange, sliced into rounds
• 1 lime, sliced into rounds
• 1/4 cup white sugar (optional)
• 8 maraschino cherries
• 2 cups carbonated water (optional)

In a large pitcher or bowl, mix together the brandy, lemon juice, lemonade concentrate, orange juice, red wine, triple sec, and sugar. Float slices of lemon, orange and lime, and maraschino cherries in the mixture. Refrigerate overnight for best flavor. For a fizzy sangria, add club soda just before serving.Yeah, this one would cost a bit, but it would make two litres of great sangria which would cost at least €20 anywhere else.

The cheaper alternative:

1 litre of Don Simon Sangria: €0.99

5: Other cheap tapas options

Pre-made tortilla for 3: €2.50
Can of olives stuffed with anchovies: €1.30
250gms Pimientos de padron: €1.50

Total €5.30

The entire, luxury tapas feast for three: About €25.00, or €6.50 each.

Not bad eh? And that's a really big, solid feed. You can enjoy yourself for about half that price. And the added bonus is, you can eat your food down on the beach or at the top of Tibidabo, and impress your friends with your know-how once you get home.

Salut!

Bar Exam

Like a lot of guys who have no idea what to do with their lives, I´ve decided to open a bar. The bank said that if I stick to a strict savings scheme, I´ll mess up my first beer on October 24, 2038. Stoked.

But how many bars have you walked into only to walk straight back out again? Time after time, I see beautiful, empty, million-dollar bars. (The reverse is also true, of course. Old 'locals' are still falling victim to a new, hipper breed of dive). Makes me sad. All that effort...someone´s lifetime dream wasting away under forty grand´s worth of lighting. And often there´ll be another bar just a few doors down, teeming with life even though the power to its old forty-watters was cut the week before.

So what attracts people to a place wall-papered with eviction notices, crunchy with cockroaches underfoot? Well, yeah, the drinks are cheaper, but if price was people's only concern, there'd be no room for the funky little cocktail joints that seem to pop up all the time. I think its more about environment. Just as some of us need toilets as clean as our starched collars, some of us feel most comfortable in more...lets say...organic surrounds. Some people like the bar equivalent of a London (picture a sleek, cold, minimalist concrete job with U.V. lights beneath the bar mirrors and finger-print I.D. on entry) and some prefer to visit Barcelona (more your old wooden floorboards, peeling ceilings, abusive bartenders and ancient resident labrador). The former could be seen, in its obscene luxury, as an escape from life, the latter an immersion in it.

Personally, I prefer a place where everyone's welcome, providing they pass the health and safety act. My bar will not have someone checking brandnames at the door. Maybe I'll even be able to do without a bouncer. Nothing against bouncers at all, but I'd like to think that whatever I do create makes people feel better abut themselves and each other rather than worse.

What are your favourite bars? Why? Can you identify anything in particular about them or is it just a 'vibe' thing? Can the 'vibe' be entirely created, or does it depend on who walks through the doors each night? Live music? Happy-hours? Themed toilet stalls? (Nothing like taking a piss surrounded by images of James Brown,'Too Funky in Here' blasting from the micro Boses). What are some of the more memorable details of the bars you've been to? One of my favourite bars over here has lampshades made from a variety of old, battered hats. Another has plastered the wall above the mens urinal with random bits and pieces from the internet. One has a hundred picture-frames on the wall. All the frames are empty. Another is merely very, very old. Another lets you bring your guitar along to destroy Marley numbers with a dozen other try-hard rastas. There's one where each step on the staircase is a piece perspex-covered art.

Yep, Barcelona is full of bars to suit wallets fat and anorexic. The nightlife here is amazing. But if you want to make the most of your time here, don't assume you'll stumble across the best joints, which tend to be hidden away in some fairly intimidating lanes. Come to the HelloBCN Bar and we'll point you in the right direction. Don't worry. We're not going to send you to places we have deals with. We're not paid for the recommendations we make. We've been here a year now, and while we haven't seen it all, we've got a pretty good idea of what's around.

And when you're really struggling for a buck, why not try the best bar of all. The streets. All night, enterprising Pakistanis and Indians sell cans of Estrella for one euro. Get a bunch of mates together, grab some tinnies, explore the city by night and wake up to the sun as it hits Barcelonetta beach. But please... leave your money and passports at the hostel.

How well-planned is too well-planned?

It's done. The world's greatest holiday itinerary. Twenty-four countries in thirteen days. Phineas Fogg has nothing on you. In less than two weeks, you'll return home with photographs and stories from more places than most of your mates see in a lifetime.
So what?
What are those photographs going to say? What kind of stories will you be able to tell? Chances are you won't get any pics that a hundred other snappers haven't posted on the net already, and the stories? Who wants to hear about the customs officials in Switzerland...the appalling public transport in Melbourne...the endless queues at Heathrow? Oh...but look at the souvenirs!!! Souvenirs of what? Souvenir shops? Where are the real souvenirs? The tales of romance, of near-misses, of the murderous-looking locals who took you home and gave you a great meal and a bed for a night. Oh, but the hotels were great, weren't they? They had brass taps and everything. Great conversationalists, those brass taps. Brilliant company.
Not much of a holiday after all was it. More like hard work. A race from bus to train to plane to luxury, lonely, five-star suite. Here's an idea. Got two weeks up your sleeve? Pick one or two countries. Do a bit of research. What do you REALLY need to see? Barcelona: Sagrada Familia. London: the Tate Modern.
Or whatever.
Just make sure you leave yourself time to wander the streets a bit...to get lost...to ask directions from a local. Feel the city, not the pressure of a schedule. Give yourself a chance to wander into the wrong neighbourhood...to SENSE it...then get the hell out. Talk to the homeless about the city they live in...they'll give you a different perspective than a tour-guide who's so busy trying to scrape a living from her tours, she couldn't recommend a single decent bar.

Coming across a bit preachy, aren't I? What about those of us who get stuck in one place and never leave, trapped to nocturnal life by daily hangovers. You're right. Night after night, people spend upwards of seven hours at the hostel bar. Sure...it's a cool place to hang out for a while (and we love to sell drinks), but to be honest, we'd rather see you getting out there a bit more. We know how much the city has to offer. The nightlife's great, but there are some wicked galleries, churches, beaches, bike-rides, buskers, markets and bad-news alleys to experience.

The upshot of all this? Plan a little, but not too much. Identify a few of the city's most interesting sights, and make sure you see them, but leave yourself time for exploration, for random encounters...for adventure.

The Long-distance Thing

Now here's a love story...

I know a guy who, at the age of twenty-nine was yet to kiss a girl. Luck was on his side though; his uncle died and left him heaps and heaps of cash. A week later, he had a round-the-world ticket in his hand, complete with scheduled stopovers in Syria, Nepal, North America and Europe.

Six-months down the track, his hard-earned desert tan paled by a week in London, he stood waiting in Heathrow´s Terminal A for his flight home. He turned and gazed at the woman beside him, a friend of a friend who had let him doss on the living-room floor of her Brixton flat for three nights. In his words: 'I suddenly realised I didn't really want to leave'. He had fallen in love.

So then...what do you do when the guy or girl of your dreams lives on the other side of the world? Two options: You either say goodbye to your flight home or say hello to the Long Distance Relationship.

Those of you currently surfing the hostel circuit could well find yourself having to make such a decision before your trip ends. Hostel life exposes you to a whole world of like-minded people, and for many, it's the most adventurous phase of their lives. They open themselves to interaction and experimentation to an unprecedented degree. Polish metal workers flirt with New Zealand viticulture students. Egyptian gynaecology freshmen shag Canadian pharmacology graduates. Admit it: At least part of the attraction of travel lies in its romantic possibilities.

Long-distance relationships. Frustrating bloody things. Trust, temptation and timezones conspire to sabotage love's attempt to hold hands across the Pacific. Face it. For all you know, lover Johnny's latest pledge of eternal devotion could have been written with the aid of Kimiko and Ukio, the nineteen year-old Japanese foreign exchange students he so generously lets stay in his one-bedroom apartment for free.

Assuming that your faith isn't quite so badly placed, gain comfort from the fact that things are a bit easier for long-distance lovers these days. The advent of instant messaging and free conference-call providers like Skype free us from the infuriations of the frequently unreliable international mail system. The postal service still has it's place, of course. It's fantastic to get a hand-written letter from anyone; an obscenely graphic description of your Austrian lover's latest sexual fantasy, scrawled breathlessly in red ink onto paper perfumed by her sweat...well that beats an email any day.

The downside of all that heated correspondence is the incredible sexual tenision that accumulates. A guy I work with recently made a vow of temporary celibacy in preparation for a trip to Greece to meet an old flame. The metamorphosis has been extraordinary. He used to be a gentle, relaxed creature; the very picture of post-coital calm. Now, he's all chest out, bear-hugging, bum-slapping, boom-voiced, vein-popping, beer-sculling, head-butting insanity. I truly fear for the well-being of the poor, unsuspecting girl waiting for him in Athens.

Not all of us have such immense self-discipline. Maybe an 'open' relationship is the way to go. I put the 'open' in inverted commas because ironically, open relationships are anything but. There aren't all that many people who would want to know about their partner's latest Brazilian conquests, so some element of secrecy is bound to play a part in any such arrangement. And think about it...you're lonely and horny. You meet a great, funny girl at a friend's party. You get to talking... about your girlfriend. About how it's been so long. About how hard it is. Your mate's friend is very sympathetic. She puts her hand on your thigh, looks into your eyes and says 'I don't know how you do it'. A few nights later, you're still shagging like crazy, and while technically you're not doing anything wrong, Rio suddenly seems a lot further away.

Don't get discouraged. There are some wonderful ways to maintain sexual intrigue and satisfaction in a long-distance relationship. It just takes a little effort. While my boss wouldn't be too happy with me going into details, I heartily recommend:

http://www.xeromag.com/fvbdsm_scenarios.html

Just a WARNING!
It's a fairly explicit site. Scroll down towards the bottom to find the part relevant to long-distance relationships.

The internet is full of advice on how to deal with long-distance longing. There are also many excellent books written on the subject. Hopefully, your guy or girl is worth a little further investigation.

In case you haven't already guessed, I'm in a long-distance relationship of my own at the moment. I'm luckier than some. A lot of people - soldiers, journalists, aid workers, for example - have to endure far longer periods apart. Martina and I get to see each other about once a month, and we're doing okay, but writing this article has made me realise there's a lot more I could be doing to make it fun. In a week or so, she'll start receiving some very interesting letters in the mail.

When things are getting rough, don't just give up. If you made the decision to undertake a long-distance relationship, chances are the girl or guy is worth it. Communicate regularly. Talk about your intimate thoughts and feelings. Remind your partner of how much you miss them, but be positive and share your happier moments as well. A person who is having fun is generally more attractive than a manic depressive (Ok, ok...not always).

Look, this is a big issue, and I'd hate to think that any rash decisions were made on the basis of this drunk blogger's ramblings. Do your research. Dig around on the net. You'll find that - with a bit of effort- a long-distance relationship can be a lot of fun.

Lovers...

Good luck.

x

When it's just no fun anymore.

Three months ago, 6:00am. You're crawling up the rotting aisle of an antique 747, sweating out the early stages of a farewell party hangover. You lever yourself into your Q-class (Student Bum) seat. A scowling stewardess cinches the belt far too tight around your swollen gut. The engines whine their way into a roar and sling-shot you into an astonishingly turbulent sky. You can't get the smile off your face. This is it. Your Big Trip Overseas.
So why is it then, that three months later, basking in the obscene luxury of the Swiss yacht you were paid ludicrous amounts of money to pretend to look after for three weeks, swamped by Finnish lingerie models intent on serving you icy Caipirinha's from between their perfect lips, you collapse suddenly into a shuddering embarrassment of tears?
Guess what? You're homesick.
It generally strikes at just one of these moments, to ensure you receive absolutely no sympathy from all your mates back home, still slugging it out back there at the abattoirs and the sewerage farms for minimum wage.

I know I should be happy mate, I know, but it's just...Hang on a sec, mate...No, Sasha, please. Please Baby. No more. Can't you see how sore it is?...Sorry mate, What were you saying?... Danny?... Danny?

Danny slams the phone down. You feel even more alone than ever. You fall asleep clutching your complimentary satellite phone as though some part of Danny might still linger inside, and a bewildered Sasha and Misha and Tasha are left to entertain themselves.


Symptoms

Homesickness can be experienced emotionally, physically and even cognitively. In other words, it can shoot you in the guts, knife you in the the heart or smack you in the head. Depending on your circumstances, homesickness might manifest itself merely as a longing for a favourite beer, or as a full-blown, suicidal depression brought about by the suspicion that your boyfriend Gus has found a blonder, taller, more athletic way of dealing with your absence.
Feeling crap after a big night out? Don't necessarily write it off as the consequence of twenty-seven tequilas, a suitcase full of coke and a spiked cerveza. Ulcers, cramps, headaches, diarrhea, muscular tension, crying, vomiting, impaired cognitive ability: all potential physical symptoms of homesickness.
(But yeah, it was probably tequila twenty-seven).


Prevention and Treatment

1: Practice makes Perfect.
According to Wikipedia, the shrinks all reckon one of the best ways to prevent homesickness is to practice spending time away from home. By this, I assume they mean that if you live in Essendon, you should try a pub in Keilor before you drive all the way to Fitzroy. The logical extension would be to try five days in a luxury Bali resort before travelling to the Sudan for a year of digging wells.

2: Stay Upbeat.
The next pearl of wisdom, apparently, is to 'Keep a positive attitude'. So, if you are feeling a bit low just three months into your Baghdad holiday: Smile. You could be in DarFur.

3: Maintain Contact With Home.
Even if the warden of whatever Colombian prison you find yourself in denies you access to the net or pen and paper, you can always pretend. Write long letters home in your mind, but be nice; Mummy doesn't really need to hear about your cell-mate Hector's latest favourite position, does she?

4: Get Busy.
I know it sounds hard to believe, but staying at home, curled up around your six-chamber bhong under a blanket of sticky Thai Buddha might not actually be the best way to forget how much nicer the muggers were in Manhattan. Try a sit-up or two. At the very least, walk downstairs to meet your dealer rather than asking him up for a cone or two.

5: Talk.
Preferably to someone else. Chatting with others, even if you don't know them, can reinforce the idea that you have friends; that actually people like you and value what you have to say.

6: And I quote: 'Enjoy What is Different About the Novel Environment'
See your guide disappearing into the crowd with your backpack, complete with passport, wallet and Prozac prescription. Taste the toxins in that tap-water. Listen to the screams of the batoned masses. Feel the sweet heat of the bullet passing millimetres from your cheek. Smell the burning flesh. Remember, you won't get another chance once you're back in good ol' Brighton.

7: Bring 'A Transitional Object'.
Translation: Bring something from home that you'll cherish during those lonely nights on the park bench. A telescopic baton, perhaps. Or a taser.


Jokes aside, homesickness can be a total prick. We all experience it to different degrees and in different ways. There's actually a lot of wisdom to be found in the seven points above, so read them again if you need to, and try to implement some of them into your travelling routine.

Oh yeah...one last thing: There's nothing to say that just because you've graduated and spent the last year planning your trip, you have to stick it out. Give yourself a goal. Tell yourself: 'Righto. I'm going to stick it out for three months. If things are still shit after then, I'll fly home'.
Not all of us are travel-ready at eighteen. Take a look in any of the big hostels in Europe. They're full of sub-twenty year-olds who spend their every waking hour in an alcohol and ecstasy narcosis (What?! Three quid to see Picasso at the National?!! That's three whole PILLS, dude!

Me, I wasn't really ready until my twenty-ninth birthday, and I still struggle at times. The point is, don't stay away from home out of shame or pride. If the most attractive thing about Budapest's seven bridges is the drop to the water, go home, and wait until travel's something you want, not something you feel you have to do.

Don't forget the...

A half-decent hostel is more than just a stack of beds and a luggage-room. It's the throbbing, sweaty essence of travel, the ecstatic hum of a college dorm, untempered by attendance requirements and impending mid-term exams. Nonetheless, it is an education, an arousal, and for many, an awakening; an introduction to the best and worst aspects of impatient, promiscuous youth.

Even on a quiet night in the bar (or the chill-out room, or the showers on level five), you can see the noses twitching in the pheromone haze. It’s a Guggenheim of body language; a gallery of averted gazes, crossings of the legs, hinted smiles, mirror-honed grins and merciless backs turned on the too-young, the too-drunk, the undesired.

Students from all over the world converge and cohabit and comingle. The schools of Finance, Law and Business dissolve and reunify in Music, Drama, International Relations, the Physics and Philosophy of Sexology. All the guys and girls who never get a look in on campus - the beautiful shy, the ugly drunks, the hopeless romantics, the too-loud, the too-old, the too-much…the untouchables - suddenly find themselves the focus of frenzied hair-twirlings and cheeky whispers between friends.

Why? Why this sudden, sexual utopia amidst the unforgiving tiers of bunk-beds and shared toilets? Is it the alcohol? It certainly plays a part, but there are far greater biological forces at work.

Adventure is not an experience limited only to geographical exploration, and travel, in itself, is not an inherently adventurous undertaking, not in this not-so-Brave New World. But it inspires adventure, physical, emotional and sexual. Travellers are generally an excited, unburdened bunch, glad to be somewhere different, willing to brave a few blind alleys and unsigned roads. Choirboys become cowboys. Nuns turn into nymphs. Morality taken for granted back home is tried before a jury of the senses, interrogated by temptation, cajoled by curiosity, strapped to the bed and gagged by desire.

For many of us, I suspect, the real function of travel is not adventure, but anonymity. Whether on our own, or in a small group of friends, we booked that ticket not only to go somewhere, but to flee the moral and social monotony of life at home, to get away from somewhere. Anonymous, we become less accountable to others and more to ourselves. At home, we're famous. Celebrities, forever paraniod of the paternal papparazzi and fine-tuned friends . The truly bold; those who defy convention and live the traveller's life at home, become infamous. So we buy a ticket. We hop on a plane. We land in the United States of Anonymity or the Island of Invisibility where they confiscate our emotional baggage at customs.

The trick in all this, of course, is to keep that one little idea bouncing away at the back of your brain, long after the sangria has swamped the last of your inhibitions:

Roll it on! That's right. Don't forget the:

Love glove
Willie warmer
Sheath
Raincoat
Cock sock
Johnny bag
Gentleman’s Jerkin

Ie: CONDOM

Even the most beautiful Swedish Gods lose a lot in the light of Hepatitis C and AIDS. Sex is everything, but it's not everything. Pay attention to your own alarm-bells, whatever they are, and survive your Next Big Adventure.

Tourist or Culture Vulture? Find the middle ground.

If you're only in the city for a short period of time, you may mistakenly assume you have a choice to make: Parties or Picasso?

Why? Because Barcelona has a split personality. On the one hand, you have the works of Gaudi, some great galleries and inspiring natural surrounds. Everything a 'Lets get up at 6:am and see everything we possibly can , Darling' traveller needs. But as you stride purposefully from the hostel doors in the pre-dawn light, you'll notice a different species of tourist, the kind that migrates to Barcelona for one of the best night scenes in Europe. The bars open early and close at around 2:30am. Time to go home? No way. The clubs are just kicking off. A good night out in this city will see you back to the hostel just in time for breakfast.

So how does one taste both sides of Barcelona's 'Jekyll and Hyde'? How is it possible to absorb Picasso's many moods along with the ridiculous quantities of alcohol a Barcelona Bar-crawl inevitably inflicts? One word:

Siesta.

Here's an example itinerary:

6:00 am Out the doors for a quick jaunt up Montjuic to get a view of the city as it slumbers in the morning sun.

8:00 Breakfast at the hostel.

10:00 Picasso Museum

12:00pm Packed Lunch and Coffee at Park Guell

2:30 SIESTA! (Keep it between 1 and 2 hours, or you'll wake up feeling stoned)

5:00 Walk the streets of the Barri Gotic

7:00 Tapas

8:30 Flamenco at Tarantos

9:30 Shisha Pipe and coffee at La Concha

10:30 Mojito at Ambar

11:30 Absinthe at Bar Marsella

1:00am Whichever club takes your fancy

4:00 Back to the hostel. Five hours sleep.

9:00 Breakfast


Take the siesta out of the equation, and you might make it through the night, but it'll take you at least another day to recover. Follow the local example, and you'll soon adapt to the demands of this schizophrenic city.

Just as it would be a shame to miss out on a tour through the Sagrada Familia, it is tragic that so many leave without having visited even one of Barcelona's brilliant bars and clubs. Question your idea of travel. Museums and and walking tours provide a sense of a city's history, but it is often the nightlife which reveals most about its youth; its future.

A Friendly Reminder

Okay, so you've just landed in Barcelona. The cabbie charged you €70 for the half-hour trip into the centre. He drops you at a place he insists serves good, cheap, food and you end up forking out another thrity-five big-ones for a jug of old Pepsi, a stale baguette and yesterday's tortillia special. On the way to your hostel, a really friendly young guy approaches you. Just a kid really. Isn't he cute? The way he keeps saying 'You like football? Look. Ronaldinho! Football. Football!', pretending to dribble a ball around you? You reach for you camera to preserve the occasion, but it's gone. So is your wallet. So is your watch. So is the cute little kid.

Don't blame yourself. It's very easy to get ripped off when you first arrive in Barcelona. In any city. It still sucks though, doesn't it? Here are some tips gleaned from the experience of those who got ripped off for your benefit.

Staying Safe and Financially Sound in Barcelona

1: Trains and Buses
Bus: It's easy. Step out of any of the terminals at BCN, and the bus stops are immediately apparent. If you have any trouble, there are plenty of people ready to help you.

Cost: €3,90

Train: If you're arriving between 5 am and 11 pm, consider taking the train. Just follow the signs from the airport. At the time of writing, a bus shuttle will take you from the terminals to the train station, due to construction works, and the train is free, compensation for putting you to the 'inconvenience'. Get off at Sants Estacio and ask the helpful staff in red 'information' vests to direct you to the metro. If you're staying at HelloBCN Hostel, take the green line to Parallel. See our website: www.hellobcnhostel.com for more detailed instructions.

Cost: Train from Airport to Sants Estacio - €2,50
Metro ticket - €1,30

A cab to the centre from BCN airport should cost you no more than €30, even at four in the morning. If your driver demands more, ignore him or her, walk straight into the hostel and tell reception what's going on. The drivers get a lot of business from hostels, so they won't push the issue too far after that. Girona Airort: If you've taken the Girona Airport option, ignore cabs altogether. It's a 1.5 hour bus trip to the centre, and if you're staying at a hostel, you'd probably prefer to spend €100 in far less practical ways. The bus will cost you about €12.00.


2: It sounds obvious, but BOOK A ROOM BEFORE YOU TAKE OFF!

In summer, you'll be lucky to get a hostel bed unless you book well in advance, especially if there are more than one of you. If the net sites tell you everything's already taken, try ringing the hostels directly. Your alternatives are lonely, €300 night rooms, well out of the centre, or cosy naps in the park with all your new homeless buddies. Not necessarily a bad experience, but I can't exactly vouch for your wellbeing.


3: Leave the Passport at Home

Book a bed at a hostel with good lockers and front-door security. Don't walk around with your passport. In the unlikely event you get stopped by the city's finest, and they ask for your passport, tell them you didn't want to risk losing it. I'm yet to hear of someone being fined for not carrying their passport.


4: Getting Home Safe

Barcelona has an exaggerated reputation for being a bit of a dodgy place. Personally, I've seen far more aggression amongst drunk university students in Melbourne, Australia than I ever have in BCN. In general, the people over here are a fairly laid-back bunch. Crime tends to be restricted to petty theft, and if you chase people for long enough, you might even get your new camcorder back in one piece, but I don't recommend it. Chase them into the wrong area, and the cost of a new Sony will soon seem insignificant.

Barcelona has another reputation, this one well-deserved, for offering some of the best night-life you could wish for. This means, of course, that you could well find yourself a bit vulnerable during the long, confusing walk home. If you're drunk, catch a cab, or walk with someone else. And while sticking in groups is generally far safer, the number of English Bucks-partiers who come back sans wallet and passport is frightening.

SINGLE WOMEN: If you're a chick, and you're here by yourself, make some friends (another great reason to stay at a hostel) and party with others. While you'd be unlucky to experience anything worse than a frightened stalker, you could land yourself in a bit of trouble if you provide the wrong dude with the right opportunity.

Streets to avoid late at night, or when alone...

C. de Sant Pau (especially at Sant Ramon intersection (Raval): One of my favourite streets, and home to the famous Bar Marsella and the wonderful La Confiteria, it is full of characters, shady and otherwise. It also provides access to many smaller, equally dodgy Raval streets with equally brilliant venues. Walk it, and avoid it, at your peril.

Corner of C. Escudellers & C. Vidre/Nou de Sant Francesc (Barri Gotic): Every corner of this tiny intersection is occupied by at least one drug dealer. The centre of it is haunted by a team of professional pickpockets who have absolutely no qualms in swarming virtually every non-local who passes by. Be aggressive. Yell at them. They don't want any trouble, they just want your money. And a warning...if you fancy yourself as a bit of a tough guy, even of the shortest of them will delight in luring you into a fight so they can rob you while you try to hit them. If your really ARE tough, keep your fists in your pockets. Fight one of them, you fight all of them, and those are knives in their back pockets.


5: Street Scams

There are too many street scams in operation to describe here. For detailed information, visit the 'Street Scams' link: http://www.jones.tc/barna/scams.html (Note: it is a text only site. You will need to scroll down befor you see any information).

Basic Principles
Keep them away: If you are approached by people you don't know, keep them at a distance. A pickpocket needs to get close to you. Therefore, be particularly careful in circumstances which force you in to crowded environments, such as trains, buses, crowded streets and bars. Remember: Kids, women and the elderly make some of the best thieves, simply because we mistakenly assume they could never do us any harm.
Carry only as much cash as you need. You can always withdraw more later.
Get into the habit of using your locker, even when you're in the room. Theives will happily rob you while you sleep.
Don't gamble on the street. You WILL be cheated.
Keep your heart open, but your wallet closed. You will hear many sob-stories from many talented actors. An ability to speak German, or a pretty face, or a foreign accent does not mean their story is legitimate. Offer to buy them food instead, and see if they're still interested, but don't hand over cash.


6. Shopping

As in cities all over the world, businesses on the main streets generally pay a lot more rent and charge a lot more than places - often just around the corner - offering better products or services. Consult your travel guides for good deals, but better yet, ask the hostel staff.


7. Don't be scared!

Barcelona is a wonderful city. It would be a shame to miss it just because of a few petty crims. With a bit of common sense, you will avoid being ripped off and have a fantastic time.

Dorm-room Dos and Donts

According to statistics I just made up, at least twenty percent of homicides committed by travellers are provoked by some half-pissed, inconsiderate cretin rummaging through a suitcase full of plastic bags at 4:30am, looking for a boarding pass that was in their back pocket the whole time.

Yes, dorms can have their downside, but even if you gave me five hundred bucks a night to spend on a room, I´d still book myself into the local hostel. I travel to meet people, not to hide from them in the so-called luxury of a sound-proofed hotel room and the lonely love of an overpriced mini-bar. And more and more people, it seems, are converting to hostelism. It´s a great thing, but there are those who experience difficulty when making the transition to the more spartan hostel lifestyle. For those accustomed to five star privacy, it can take a while to become familiar with dorm-room etiquette. So for those of you new to the world of communal living, there are a few cardinal rules. Observe them, and you´ll be embraced by your fellow travellers. Ignore them and incur their frequently imaginative wrath.

Submit your own suggestions to hellobcnblog@gmail.com

Dorm-room Dos and Donts

Bad feet? Store your stinky shoes and toxic socks outside. Give your footsies a scrub before you hit the hostel bar. Travel with a second pair of footwear (thongs are great), so you have something clean to put on once you return from your two hour hike up to the Russian consulate in the thirty-five degree heat to organise another replacement visa after having had your pockets picked by a gang of transvestites on Rue De Sant Pau for the second time in three days.

Respect the Shhhhhhh! The key here is to keep your belongings well organised, so you don´t wake everyone one up with your drunken fumblings. The needless rustling of plastic bags in the morning can drive a calm man to even calmer murder.

Party Animals: Getting plastered, for better or worse, is a prioritiy for many of us. Remember, the toilets are across the hall, not in your bunk-mate´s laptop bag.

Malicious Music: Not everyone will appreciate the sheer brilliance of your favourite death metal compilation. Ask before plugging your ipod into your four billion gigawatt portable speakers. If you like falling asleep to the sweet, soft melodies of Marilyn Manson, keep the volume of your headphones below 11.

Snoring: People snore. Get over it. In general, it´s a habit they have very little control over. If it´s a serious problem, request a change of rooms. Not possible? Buy some decent ear-plugs.