"what happens in barcelona stays in barcelona."

almost every single day for the past few weeks, months even, has been spent reading seemingly endless stacks of literature; all those sleepless nights agonizing over this pilot dissertation. i grow more and more weary with each day, surviving on 4 and a half hours of sleep or less. with assignments piled on daily at amfi; concepting, mindmaps, powerpoint presentations and this pilot due back at uca, my spirit is slowly but surely being worn down to nothingness.

(fyi: the pilot, brand manual and marketing strategy are due ON THE SAME DAY)

i find that these days, i don't have much to say, i'm my very own personal zombie. i am even beginning to find comfort in solitude - shocking! - lest i infect others with my flagging spirit.

every morning i wake up, therein lies the problem; an internal tug-of-war - the struggle to get up, get dressed and drag my unwilling body out of the flat, onto a tram and to school. i find no solace in mindnumbingly long lectures, writing notes until my brain goes blank and fails to absorb anything else. i just want to be alone.

i can't help but wish for the days of barcelona; where we had absolutely no cares in the world. perfect weather; the sun, sand, sea, perfect food; eating delicious tapas, paella and drinking wine everyday, being madly spontaneous (how unlike me); let this be known, i was in excellent company. 4 of us, 4 bottles of wine, drinking ourselves silly by the beach, CRASHING BARCELONA FASHION WEEK AND ACTUALLY GETTING ESCORTED INTO THE TENT/FASHION SHOW - LIKE VIPS.

summary: got word that BFW coincided with our study trip. spontaneity struck! got dressed to kill. cabbed to the location. upon arrival, noticed beefy security guards and everyone with VIP/PRESS tags. so screwed. were about to give up and go home. walked to the opp side, it looked like the admin/logistics tent. IL talked her/our way into the fashion show. apparently folks, all it takes is the truth. and maybe a little exaggeration.

:)

endless shopping; for some reason, shopping in barca was a completely different experience to shopping elsewhere, for once i was in the right mood to try & buy. i bought this assymetrical jersey summer dress from mango, in the most shocking tangerine. i made the executive decision after the sad realization that my wardrobe is utterly drab and lacking in colour. other purchases include a navy military/marching band-esque blazer with rows of rusty coloured buttons along the lapels, the prettiest lingerie i've ever laid my hands on and a box of HAPPY PILLS (yes, that's actually the name of the shop) for V1.

i have the sweetest memories of barca. ALL of us waking up with hangovers every. single. morning, holding animated discussions based on the foggy remnants of our previous night's escapades. (in my case, completely forgetten chunks resurfacing at the breakfast table, and being kindly informed by F that i actually HUGGED F/P in my inebriated state. apparently i become extremely friendly/touchy/flirtatious under the influence - so i've been told.)

no comment. at least i had SOME sense left in me not to extend a hug to BP. thank god for self-control. he's just the most beautiful boy everrr. double sigh.

most of this talk took place in the boy's bathroom, where we promptly claimed territory soon after arriving at the lovely hostel. never in my wildest dreams did i envision getting drunk and peeing on the beach. HAHA! if it's any consolation, i doubt any of us did. i vaguely recall lying on our 'borrowed' (otherwise known as stolen) blankets from the hostel, listening to music on F's iphone? and gazing at the stars in the sky. then the sudden urge to whip off my boots - it simply didn't feel right wearing shoes on the beach, and not feeling the sand between your toes - and run into the ocean. the rest of them were wise not to follow suit, it was FREEEEEZING as i learnt in due time, but worth every second.

listening to groove armada's "at the river" as i write this passage and it is the perfect song of choice. that's exactly how i felt; IL had her camera on hand the instant i ran into the water. my red floral dress emerged looking like a blaze of fiery flames amidst the blur of waves. i can't help but smile at the thought of that particular moment in time, captured in a photograph.

it was delightful. even in my drunken state, i remember telling them that the water felt like 'champagne and strawberries'. don't ask me when/how i got so poetic. not a clue.

oh right, how can i forget to mention this? gaudi architecture, sagrada familia yada yada. it's not that i didn't enjoy it, i did. it was gorgeous, but not really my cup of tea. i much preferred the museum of contemporary art. ah, that i truly enjoyed. and our last night in barca; the fashion show afterparty followed by a wild night which i will not elaborate on. lest my boyfriend reads this entry. nothing he doesn't already know though.

i held back on blogging about barca, because i felt that unless i was in the right frame of mind, my words wouldn't do it justice. it was by far, the most amazing experience i've had. travel, or otherwise. great company, great conversations. note: i saw the most undescribable sunset atop one of the gaudi buildings, as well as on the flight back to amsterdam. they were beautiful in different ways. the former was in shades of dusty pink and blue; its beauty caught me by surprise. i couldn't stop myself from taking one photo after the other, right up till the moment my camera decided to die on me. which was a blessing in disguise, because it allowed me to truly take in the moment, and experience it firsthand.

maybe if i close my eyes and still my mind, i can recreate that moment in my head...