Coming from the stage of my life where lifelong friends are made from just asking, “What’s your major?” I was a tad worried to see what the next phase would entail. But traveling alone means you sometimes have to have courage in order to meet new people and common sense to be smart about the new people you meet.
I used my resources, and reached out to a few. I began messaging a girl my age, who lives in Barcelona, recently traveled to the US and is currently in college. The first time we met up, it was also my first time in the city, so she showed me around. I felt very comfortable with her as if we had been friends for a while, talking about each other’s lives and plans. Given that we got along and nothing had been sketchy, we agreed to meet again. This time it was for a night out in the city with her and a few friends.
We greeted each other with a kiss on both cheeks around 6:30. This is a custom in Spain, so don’t be startled when someone you just met gets close for a hello. Remember, it’s two or you’ll leave the person hanging on that second cheek, and it can get awkward.
We began our trek while making a few stops, including Casa Gaudí, a thrift shop with hats from Texas and a home decor store with a longhorn, proving I will never feel that far away from the good ol’ lone star state.
She also showed me some street art along the way.
We met up with one of her friends and grabbed a late bite before stopping by a bar for 3.50€ mojitos. Mine was mango flavored, and I could’ve probably drank them non-stop they were so good. But that would’ve been dangerous, so I stopped at two.
Two more of their friends joined us. I noticed how fast they spoke Spanish and realized I was not keeping up with the speed or the slang despite being fluent. For example, while “chamo” is used for dude or bro in Venezuela, Spain uses the word “tío.” Luckily, after a few minutes of me wondering if the guy in front of me could really be an uncle, the group sweetly slowed down a bit for me and translated the lingo.
Later, we went to another bar that had shots for 1€ each. HA-HA, not today, Satan. But actually, we ended up leaving because the service was taking too long.
At this time, it was around 2 AM. Since I had never taken a night bus, my new friends walked me to my stop and waited until I got on. From afar we could see a group of drunk guys trying to find their stop. We made jokes about them until one of them asked a bus driver, a little too loudly for the painfully sober, if he was going to Alella. I gasped. Great. “At least you’ll be entertained,” my friend said.
I’m happy to say I made it back safely and without any trouble.
The funny thing is, my getting home at 3 AM is the Spanish equivalent of me going home early.
As my friend explained it, our prep process is still the same. By 11, you’ve eaten (skip this and you’ll regret it), gotten ready, and have started your pregaming. You leave to make it to the bars and clubs around midnight. However, while my friends and I bar hop for the next two hours, struggle to make it to our ride in heels, and then sit down for a greasy meal at 3 AM, my Spanish counterpart and her friends are still partying. Their bars and clubs don’t close for another 4 hours compared to our last call. Meaning her squad leaves at around 6 AM, pick up some breakfast, and get home at around 8 AM.
Both of our eyes widened at the others’ “normal.” However, after spending the night hearing her friend’s love troubles, others teasing tinder users, and the confirmation that I have no idea when a guy is actually flirting because I always think they’re just being nice, I realized a night out with friends doesn’t differ much internationally. Romance still left us confused. Music still made us bop our heads to the beat. Sarcasm still bounced from all sides of the table. And laughter was still the primary language used.
At the end of the day, regardless of how late your bar stays open or where you end up in the wee hours of the morning, who you have as company is the key in making your night.
“I note the obvious differences between each sort and type, but we are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike.” –Human Family by Maya Angelou