Zaragoza

so our host turned out the be the couchsurfing ambassator of zaragoza and had visited australia as well as lived in the uk for a while, which explained his strange english accent, a mix of english and spanish. He was a nice guy and took us out to a student bar for drinks, but by then James and I were both exhausted, and my stomach was still making noises, so we drank little, wanting to sleep early, because our host was getting up early, and for some odd reason, didn’t want to give us keys to his apartment so we could sleep in.

 

We woke 9am next day, to shitty cold rainy weather and I went to the toilet, returning whitened from the experience. The water certainly was dodgy because now pretty much anything I ate or drank instantly liquified in my bowels and then wanted out.

 

So we wandered the streets of zaragoza for 12 hours, because our host was returning later than usual due to a chinese language class. Drank a little wine, but it made me sick, james went skating while I lay  in small patches of sunlight, between the showers, slept inbetween working on my rubix cube (I bourght one for 70 cents, it helps kill time).

 

By the time our host got home, I felt frozen and like shit, and pretty much went straight to bed after eating a cheap meal of cheese, chips and egg. Something I later regret. Knowing we had to hitch again the next day, with no host organised to stay with in madrid made me feel a little depressed and shitty about the whole experience. But being the tough aussies we are we soldliered on, walking about 5kms to the a-2 highway to barcelona. Once we got there we realised after a few hours that getting a lift would be hopeless here, and had to trudge along another 2km strip of muddy roadworks to find a much better gasolina.