Trip to Barcelona

Author's Note: My apologies for whatever errors you may find. Hope you enjoy it
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I was so excited I could hardly get any sleep. It was a miracle that I eventually shut my eyes at 2am, but even then, my dreams overflowed with everything and anything that had some connection with the Catalonian city, Barcelona. I had completed my Masters dissertation a week ago and vacationing in Spain was my way of celebrating my newfound freedom from the heart-wrenching, mind-numbing days of studying into the late hours of the night, sometimes veering into mornings.
My baggage (a small suitcase and a large leather handbag) was already packed and waiting by my door. All I had to do was shower and get dressed. I showered in 6 minutes, a new record, considering I normally spent 16 to 20 minutes in the bathroom. Rummaging through my wardrobe, I dumped a variety of clothes on my bed for selection. It was imperative that I dressed my best. There was absolutely no way I was walking into Spain for the first time in my 24 years of existence in tacky attire. Methodical eyes swept the available clothes, weighing the pros and cons of whatever blouse-and-skirt/jeans combo that popped into my head. I finally settled for a pair of dark-blue skinny jeans, a white sleeveless blouse, and a pair of black heeled, open-toed sandals, topped with a chic crimson jacket. Mirror appraisal substantiated my exact thoughts that the jeans snugly embraced my shapely thighs and moderately-sized butt, and my blouse flaunted the peaked outline of my 36c breasts.
'That's more like it,' I said to my mirror image, grinning as I swung my body into several sexy poses. I puckered my plump lips and applied lip-gloss to them. My keen eyes scanned my chocolate-brown skin for blemishes (found none), and made sure my dark hair wasn't sticking out at the wrong places.
When I was done playing around, I called my mum and sister to inform them that I was on my way to the airport. I had said my goodbyes properly yesterday so our phone conversations were pretty short.
My apartment secured, I took my baggage downstairs and boarded the waiting taxi I had booked earlier. Half-way into the journey to the airport, my phone vibrated. I checked and discovered a text message from my boyfriend ... or soon to be ex-boyfriend. We had been having fights for months about my decision to travel to Spain alone, and last night witnessed our biggest argument to date (though it did not dampen my thrill of the prospect of relaxing on the Icaria Beach). Terry had given me an ultimatum: remain in Canada and be with me, or go to Spain and forget about us. I couldn't understand his problem. Why was he being such a buzz-kill? Why couldn't he allow me this one act of freedom? I practically spent every day with him; surely, it wasn't too much to take a three-week break away from him. Besides, I hadn't thrown a hissy when he and his friends had jetted off to England last summer for one month, so he had no excuse for this appalling behaviour.
'"I hope you've given ample thought to what you're giving up."' I read the text to myself and dumped the phone into my handbag, shrugging off whatever feeling of guilt or anger that would normally claw its way into my chest whenever Terry and I quarrelled like this. I was determined to enjoy my holiday. Terry would have to wait until I got back.
The taxi pulled into a parking space at the airport, and I got out with my luggage. After paying the driver, I carried my things inside to be checked in. I beamed at the attendant, a brunette with sparse freckles dotting her cheeks, as I presented my passport. As soon as my suitcase was out of my hands, I made my way to the correct terminal. I had to wait with other travellers for 20 minutes before I was allowed into the plane.
The flight was a gruelling 10-hour-29-minute ride, interspersed with watching some in-flight movies, listening to music on my iPod, and napping. By the time I arrived in Spain it was rather late at night. Lucky for me, I had taken my Spanish classes seriously so I was able to direct a cabdriver to the hotel I would be lodging at. The instant I stepped foot into my spacious, scented room, I unpacked, and then got on Facebook to chat with my friends. I spent most of the night on my computer, and finally went to bed at 1am.

I woke up at around 2 in the afternoon, washed, wore my sandals, jeans and a brown V-necked top, and vacated the hotel with my handbag. The Icaria beach was my destination. There, I stripped to my red bikini, donned my D