The rain in Spain stays mainly…out of reach

As long as I can remember I have wanted to go to Spain, specifically Barcelona. I could care less about Disney World or an amusement park — I wanted flamenco dancers and (when I was older) sangria. I grew up hearing stories of how awesome my mother’s trip to Madrid was which may have started my Obssesion de Espana, but Barcelona was never mentioned.

I grew up, but never out of my desire for Barcelona. I went to Guatemala, Argentina and Colombia and still wasn’t satisfied, though Buenos Aires did come close. My thoughts went from wanting to travel there to wanting to live there, a feeling that was not helped by my friend Lion King who went to Barcelona for vacation and proclaimed it as the perfect place for me (artsy, cultural diverse and bohemian…and the guys were pretty hot).

With my deeeeee-lightful 30th (ugh, I want to dry heave every time I type that) coming next year, I was determined not to celebrate that without having been to Barcelona. My previous goal for my 30th was to have finished my grad degree, but since I’ve traded grad school for belly dancing, Barcelona moved up on the list.

So the planning ensued. My uncle has a timeshare membership of some sort that allows vacations around the world, the only catch being you have to reserve waaaaay in advance and he’s always wanting me to use some of that membership…so easy-peasy, right? Wrong. (another catch is that the membership is in late aunt’s name, so when I try to call I have to pretend to be my uncle’s dead wife.)

For starters, having my mom and her brother plan a vacation for me means I run a huge risk of ending up on a random goat farm in Poland instead of Barcelona. Case in point: I wanted to use the timeshare for this year’s birthday and go to Manhattan. Having decided this in September of last year, I was told it was no problem(o). After not getting any confirmations,  I called to see what was up. Apparently the Abbot and Costello travel agents that are my mom and tio thought Manhattan was in the mountains, somewhere near Niagara Falls. After directing them to Google Maps and the true location of Manhattan, I was informed it had a 2-year wait list, but hey, the Poconos resorts are available and close to Manhattan. Again I had to make use of Google Maps. (side note, my tio and mother know me pretty well. Why in the hell did they not stop to think that lil’ Pithy suddenly deciding that she liked nature and wanted to spend her birthday there might be worthy of clarification?!?!?)

I assumed that since I was dealing with the sainted motherland of all motherlands (Spain) I wouldn’t have to clarify where Barcelona was on a map. The first phone call I received informed me that Barcelona was booked. Oooook. I looked at the timeshare site and saw that they had cruises leaving from Barcelona. I can do that. Or not. Next phone call was to tell me forget the cruise, they had already booked me for Salou, “15 minutes” from Barcelona. After discovering it was an hour from Barcelona, I had them cancel, since having to rent a car was not a hassle I wanted.

After a very long convo (could have walked from Salou to Barcelona, twice!) I gave my “travel agents” a list of cities in Europe that I would like to visit, thinking this would make it easier for them. Wrong. Next phone call was to tell me they were booking the cruise. Again. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! (this flip-flopping took place over 2 days. 2 days people!!!!)

So last night, mom calls again. The prices for the cruise are incorrect (and waaaaaay out of my range), so the cruise is a no.

<banging head against wall>


~ by pithycomments on May 16, 2008.

One Response to “The rain in Spain stays mainly…out of reach”

  1. […] I say more?? My 30th birthday will be spent splashing happily in the bottom of a bottle(s) of sangria while in the Motherland of […]

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