Hungover and tired on a Saturday afternoon, I got a Facebook message from a new Spanish friend, Edu, asking if I wanted to go to Valencia (about three hours south of Barcelona) with him and his friend, Bardou (whose family happens to own a place on a golf resort out there). We’d drive down, stay for a night, and return the next day. Always down for impromptu adventures, I of course said yes. One hour later, after a quick trip to LIDL to stock up on munchies, my flatmate, Shaye, and I waited on the corner, pillows and munchies in hand, for the boys to come around.
Next thing you know, a van pulls up. Not a car, not a truck, a van. And to make matters even worse (or better as we would soon find out), it was a work van. Two seats in the front, already occupied by the boys, and….well, a huge plank of wood in the back. After greeting Edu, who I’d met only once before, and Bardou, who I’d never met, naturally, Shaye and I climbed into the back of the van. Sprawled out with our pillows and our munchies, the journey began. Five minutes in, Bardou is asking me to fish the bag of weed out of his jacket pocket and Edu is rolling a j. Picture perfect is an understatement- laying in the back of a somewhat sketch van, cruising down the highway, passing a perfectly executed joint, Spanish radio playing, sharing sour candies, Pringles and 40s.
This went on for two hours or so until we had to pull over because the breaks were acting up. Then a cop car pulls up behind us. Roaches, opened 40s, and two foreign girls hiding in the back of the van, we all quickly realized the deep shit we would be in if that cop got out of his car and took a peek into ours. Needless to say, ten seconds later, he is in fact getting out of his car and walking up to the passenger side. Paralyzed in fear, Shaye and I attempt to make ourselves and the half-drunken 40s around us invisible as Bardou talked to the officer only three feet away. After what seemed like forever, the officer returned to his car and drove off, the four of us delinquents in the clear. Elated, we continued our journey.
Finally, we make it to Bardou’s family’s place on the golf resort- a two-bedroom, two-bathroom family suite with a terrace looking over a beautiful swimming pool and the golf course. We drop of our stuff and set out to find dinner in the nearby fishing village. We arrive in the village and it’s deserted. Eerily silent and dark, we walked down the street lining the water until we found what I believe was the only open restaurant in town. Six courses (octopus, mussels, you name it) and almost 150 Euros later, we stop at the only other place open in town, a hole in the wall bar, for a bit, and then head back to Bardou’s suite. About an hour later, after we’ve polished off at least a few bottles of wine and a j or two, we’re all drunk and stoned and the four of us climb into one of the suite’s two beds and lay there giggly and uncomfortable until Shaye decides her and Bardou would be better off in the other room. So that left me and Edu in a giant, wonderful bed, drunk and affectionate, and there we spent all night cuddling. Just cuddling.
As all good things must come to an end, we woke up with the sun, ending our cuddle sesh, and walked out to the living room where Bardou was awaiting us with an already rolled and lit j. When we were all fully awake and had cleaned up the mess of a suite, we headed out, Shaye and I hopped into the back of the van, and, satisfied with our short but sweet adventure in Valencia, we headed back to Barcelona, back to the big city we all call home.
