the neighborhood.

We walked out of the Barcelona airport two hours later into an amazing, long-anticipated warm breeze. We signaled a cab, and the driver proceeded to try and cram our luggage into the trunk. Preston's bag wasn't a problem, but the rest of us had not packed light. As a result, my trusty Samsonite ended up getting a ride on the top of the car. "Are you sure that's going to hold?" I asked nervously, watching the driver loop some feeble looking rope through the windows and over my bulging suitcase. "Si, si," he assured me, waving his hand nonchalantly. I looked at my friends for reassurance, but of course, it wasn't their luggage that might end up flying onto the highway and getting steamrolled by a passing truck. Initially the cabbie's maniac driving didn't ease my fears, but after I realized that I'd have a great story to tell, I sat back happily for the rest of the ride.

As the cab driver chattered away in Spanish to Rose, the rest of us gazed out the window eagerly at the streets lined with shops and vendors and bustling with people.

"I can't wait to see our apartment!" Exclaimed Chastity, as we veered off the main road and navigated through a series of more narrow streets. The buildings, I noted after a few blocks, were becoming increasingly dilapidated and the passerby less frequent. We finally slowed down next to a square which was littered with trash and beer bottles and lined with graffiti. A group of shirtless teenage guys playing basketball stopped to stare at the cab. The various men leaning against the walls approached to peer in the windows.

"Ummm, where are we?" queried Preston politely as we pulled into an alley.

"Esta aqui, numero uno Calle Aurora" announced the driver proudly, hitting the brake and slamming the gearshift into neutral.

"Ohhhh, my, god......" murmured Chastity.

I burst out laughing. "We're going to DIE."

"Hello, hello!" A young man was knocking on the windows and motioning for us to come out.

"Who is that?!"

“Omigod, lock the doors!”

“What if he has a weapon?!”

It took us about ten minutes to realize that the apartment had a landlord, and this increasingly confused Irish guy was it.