la cucaracha

That does mean the cockroach doesn't it?

So I'm happily ensconced in my new Barcelona digs for (hopefully) the next couple weeks. It's really big, in an incredible location just on the edge of the Raval, I don't have to pay a lot (it's much cheaper than a hostel), I get my own room which is not nearly as small as I was led to believe, the guys who live here are cool (skateboards in the hallway, lots of Afghan Whigs and Archers of Loaf albums in the iTunes library, and daily downloads of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report), good sized kitchen with a gas stove...and a big ass cockroach running around on top of said stove. We met when I lifted the water pot off the burner and saw something move out of the corner of my eye.
Two years of living in Palais Lansdowne with my furry little grey friends taught me that when you think you see something move out of the corner of your eye, your eye is probably not playing tricks on you.

Mr. Cucaracha is about 3/4 of an inch long and a rusty brown colour. He's wily and hard to catch once he sets his mind to it...oh it might look like he's just bumbling around on the stove top with no particular destination in mind, but when you rush out to grab some paper to squish him with he will find a hidey hole and then you'll be sorry. Update! I went back in later and found like 4 more Cucarachas running around on the stove. The guys say they see them occasionally...I must be super lucky to get such a show on my first day!

Anyway, this is a new and interesting experience, I've never really lived with roaches before. I'll let you know how it goes.

In other news, Valencia was nice. Even though I was about 12 hours late and missed the end of Las Fallas I was still met (unexpectedly) at the train station by the friend (who is currently cycling down the coast) I had just stood up for lunch...he decided to stay in Valencia and take a day off from the ride so I got an instant companion and a guide to take me to the hostel. This is not to be undervalued as the instructions to get to the hostel as defined online are something like this: "when you get out of the train station turn right and take three steps then look to your left. You will see a building that looks sort of like a castle. Walk toward it until you get to the Citibank, then turn left. Jump up and down seven times. Walk 150 paces until you see the statue of elvis and then close your eyes and quack like a duck. Open your eyes, walk for 10 meters, and voila! Knock on the red door and we'll buzz you in."

I exaggerate only slightly. The odd thing is that the directions generally do work, it's just a pain playing Treasure Map with a backpack strapped on your back.

The weather in Valencia was fantastic - on Tuesday it must have been in the high 20s (according to one sign it was even 30 degrees at one point) and sunny, we walked to the beach assuming that if a city's built on the sea the beach can't be too far from downtown. More than an hour and several blisters later (note to self: do not walk anywhere in flip flops ever again) we found the beach. It was nice, if a little powdery (still finding sand in the pockets of my jeans), so we drank a little sangria, lay in the sun for a little while, and then headed back. The buses in Valencia have televisions in them.