The Spanish love going out. Specifically, they love going out all night long. Mornings aren't made for them. They rather spend their days at home, waking up slowly and taking it easy. But, as soon as the sun starts setting, that's when they feel most alive. They go out for endless dinners (at 23.00 or later) and after they are done, they get ready to party. And when you start your night late, you continue until the early morning. So, as you can imagine I had to slightly get used to that. Coming home at eight in the morning in the weekends can get quite exhausting. All I want to do is sleep all day and stay in, but when you are friends with Americans who are in love with everything Europe, that just won't happen. So there I was, with only an hour of sleep, ready at the bus station to travel up north. To Tossa de Mar to be exact. Past the touristy Lloret de Mar and through the mountains, I slowly started to forget how tired I was. And when we arrived in the tiny town, and walked up into the hills, I felt one hundred percent awake (or at least, until the busride back).
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