Day Seventy Five (septuagesimo quinta dia) Tuesday (Terca-feira) We got up early to be ready for Ernesto to pick us up at 8:00am. Marco was supposed to take us, but then said he couldn’t. Pedro couldn’t take us until after 9:15am, so Ernresto offered to take us. He picked Ken up and then grabbed us. Because Ken packed like he was going on Apollo Twenty Five, it took us a little while to situate our luggage in Ernesto’s car. I had done my thirty burpees before I got in the shower. #30burpees30days Day 28: 30 burpee SPLATS. We saw the cows again on our morning drive. We got to the airport just before 9:00am, and the check-in for our flight hadn’t even opened. I pulled a bolos levedos that I’d been hoarding since Saturday’s trip to Furnas out of my purse and split it with Ken. After we went through security, we got raped by the ridiculous prices at the one airport cafe—2.25€ for a can of iced tea? We spent 15€ before we even left the island. Our flight was delayed about 45 minutes, which only made our layover there shorter. Even though it’s only two hours to Lisbon they served a “light meal”—a sandwich, a fruit puree, and a drink. The tuna had cream cheese on it and I ate it anyways. It was delicious. When we landed in Lisbon, we checked for our next gate and saw that that flight was delayed too—only fifteen minutes. We headed to find what my little heart had been craving since we planned this trip. The Promised Land. After we got our coffees and a snack, we went back to our gate. Delayed again. Our only concern was arriving on time for our first (and only) scheduled Barcelona activity: FC Barcelona vs. Cartegena at Camp Nou that night. At 10:00pm local time. We were originally set to land at 7:30pm and we ended up landing at 8:00pm. We got our checked bags and headed to find a cab. We didn’t go through customs so we didn’t get caught up. We also didn’t get stamps for our passports. An Indian man approached us along the way and asked where we were headed and we told him what hotel we were staying at. He said he would charge us 35€. I thought that sounded like a lot. We tried to get him down to 30€, but he wouldn’t budge. We left him to find a cab, which he warned us against—with the traffic at “rush hour” it would be much more, he heeded. It was 8:30pm, where in the world had rush-hour traffic? We hopped in a Prius in the taxi queue. It cost us 32.70€. He tried to bring us to the Hotel Astoria first (no, no, sir. The ASS-TON SU-NO-TELL). Thankfully, he turned off his meter shortly after he started his new route to our hotel. We arrived there before 9:00pm. After we figured out how to open our door and turn on the lights (harder than you might think), we dropped our stuff off (valuables in the safe!) and took the Metro to Camp Nou. We had been planning to take another cab, but the concierge urged us to take the Metro—it’s easy, he said. And it was. It was only about a four-minute walk to the station and Camp Nou was five stops away. We got to the stadium 15 minutes before the game started. It was lots of fun for me and John kept saying he felt like he was in a dream. After Barcelona won 3-0 we headed off to take the Metro home again, only the station was closed. It was hard to tell whether it was just this stop or whether the Metro shut down at midnight. Lots of other people were trying to take it as well. After a few minutes of standing there, we decided to walk back to the hotel (only 3 kilometers away). We had no idea which direction to walk (even with my map). We walked into a McDonald’s on the corner and used their WiFi. I took a screen shot of the directions and 45 minutes later we were back at the hotel. Success.