So… here’s the real part that’s left out of the guidebooks; where we done goofed. When we left Dallas, we were under idyllic impressionism, intoxicated on the draw of the European backpacking lifestyle. Let me tell you, these people have money. The blogs have made it seem as if simply being there and showing a smiling face to the hostel lady who looks weary from the night before would get you a volunteer job in exchange for a night, a week or even a months stay.

I’m not sure if everyone is aware of this, but it seems like Americans think that they are only ones that are the greatest. The government of Spain slightly disagrees.

We spent our first day at the Oficina de Extranjeros, trying to get our NIE (Número de Identificación Fiscal), which is a card that essentially gives you A tax ID and the ability to open a Spanish bank account. If you you want to do it otherwise, just watch out for La Guardia Urbana (the cops); however, busking is pretty common and most buskers are pretty damn good at what they do. The hard part is being in the country and not having the correct documents to open a bank account. No bank account, no NIE; no NIE, no bank account. I’m pretty sure Joseph Heller wrote most of Spain’s laws. But, due to EU laws, it’s pretty hard for an American who hasn’t set something up months in advance. Have your CV ready, learn Spanish, and prepare for rejection. Godspeed!

So, plans change. Ours was never to party our way through the country, but to lose ourselves in the unknown. As I said before, Barcelona is one of the most beautiful cities in the world (if you can afford it); where the mountains blend into the sea at the edge of the horizon. We are still here, breathing it all in, but the road and lack of funds carry us on soon.