Photo: Barri Gotic

My backpacking trip through Europe begins with a sojourn in the land of siesta, sangria and Cervantes. Disembarking in Barcelona, I make haste to beat nightfall to my lodging. Looking for a hostel along the old city streets of the Barri Gotic, I feel like an animal. Backpacking is zoomorphic. You become like the camel relying on the back for sustenance, sympathetic of the turtle, cognizant of his carried shelter. And upon my first night in a hostel, I learn that sleep habits adapt the traits of the nocturnal marsupial, attempting to sleep in a room with five other men all racing to the land of Nod.