I decide to take everything out of my purse except the bare essentials, seeing as Barcelona is infamous for pick pocketers. Savannah and I jokingly discuss how all our shit will soon be stollen from us and find ways to hide money all over our bodies, in different pockets, in zipper pockets and everywhere. Finally ready to face these theives we venture off down the Romblas and head to the beach.
Each person that bumps into me is a suspect. Despite the distraction of my fear I take in the beauty of the Romblas and all the people. Just as France was so French, Spain is so Spanish...thus far sterotypes hold true (except the whole French are rude and Spanish are polite...very opposite due to a crazy language aggression in Barcelona) I find that spanish fashion consists of large, baggy, brightly colored, skirts or gennie pants and lots of dreads and incredibly weird piercings. At the end of the Ramblas the buildings give way to the sea, god I love the Mediteranean.
The people don't disipate but rather switch from tourist and spanish to tourist and illegal immigrants. We find a little opening and lay our towels out. I soon realize in front of us lie two very topless ladies, to the right are two beautiful brazillian men, and the left are four Brits around nineteen years old. Yet again stereotypes prove to hold true as I am intertained by the Brits' Russell Brand like attitude, talking about parties, booze, and girls, as their mini ipod speakers play hits from about a year ago. Over all their racket the real noise comes from the vendors circling like vultures around a carcas. "Masseh, Masseh, Masseh". No i do not want your hands on my body...no massage. The sun warms my body and puts me in a lul until I start sweating. I slowly wade into the cool sea and finally make it all the way in and float around for a little while. It's the perfect mix of the cool water and the warm sun. I climb over sleepy sun bathers and push past the obnoxious swarm and reach my towel. I lie down and watch a "massuse" give her glorified back rub, but notice that she's not concentrating or even looking at the person's back, her fear stricken eyes scan the horizon...IIII don't think what she's doing is legal. My eyes slooowly close.
I'm kicked and yelled at. Wtf I don't want a massage!!! I look to my side, no purse. I gasp "Savannah they got my purse". I know it's over and am convinced it's the girl that kicked my that is apart of this scandall. She keeps yelling and pointing away from the beach. Her determination gets me to jump up and look around. She insists I run after them. Savannah and I both head off and then stop realizing we are leaving our other stuff behind. She stays with the stuff and I chase down the imaginary theif in the distance, after jgging a couple yards more massage ladies snile and yell pointing awya. OK great. Now I'm their dumb intertainment. I walk back and surprisingly vendors are no longer in our little area. We say a few words to the people around and of course no one saw anything. Apparently some people selling towels help them up around the two of us blocking people's view of the action. The two Brazillians along with the others have a slight expression of guilt. It's one of those things where they realized things were a little off, but pushed it aside. Supposedly a certain vendor had been circling me for some time making sure I was asleep, befire the scheme was played out.
Overall I'm more mad that they had one the game than I was at loosing the purse. I lost a cute orange purse ($15), hand sanitizer (priceless), keys to the apt ($30), a metro pass($10), about 15 euros, annnnnd the kicker.. my camera. Sadly I will be taking/posting no more pictures of the places I go. I plan on leaving hate notes in all my pockets and possibly fishing for theifs at a later date. Or maybe even buying cheap purses and leaving hate messages in them throughout the city. All great ideas I think. lol
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