An Ode to Barcelona

In the hospital in the UK, I sit reading a book while I wait for my dad to finish X-rays for his broken arms (yes both arms.) He finishes earlier than expected and as he approaches he says “careful, your foot’s tangled in the strap of your bag.”

My reply is “I know, I put it through the strap so it doesn’t get stolen.” And then I realise how insane that sounds, in a hospital waiting room, surrounded by people with broken arms and legs and nurses and doctors.

I guess you could say a week in Barcelona changed me, perhaps you could go so far as to say it gave me “real street-smarts” but that may be a stretch.

If you walk down La Rambla you’ll be greeted by food menus being thrust in your face, people throwing glow- in-the-dark toys in the air, a bustle of people and you’ll probably be clutching your bag to your stomach. It’s not every day you see grown men with their back packs on backwards, cradling it in their arms, but La Rambla is notorious for pickpockets. At first the anxiety of having your phone, money, and all you hold dear stolen can interfere with your ability to just have a good time, but you’ll soon get used to it. Plus, I may go so far as to say La Rambla is overrated. There is so much more to see, so let’s get to it.

Arrival

‘The apartment is only 5 minutes walk from the bus stop’ must be the biggest lie told in history. It has to be an Airbnb host thing. We were staying in the gothic quarter in a shared apartment with another person, and after hours of travel, we lugged our suitcases through the cobble-stone streets, pausing occasionally to look up at a pretty building. The streets were quiet, the heat curled around my neck and glancing around, I didn’t really feel anything besides the strong urge to shower.

The relief of getting to the apartment was overshadowed by Mike (the Airbnb host) telling us that the lift was broken.

After a steep climb, Mike gave us the grand tour and told us that the building was from the 1400s or maybe the 1800s, something “historic”. I wish I’d paid more attention to what he was saying but it was something really old and I was distracted by the fact that I didn’t believe him.

Anyway, what he failed to mention was the old, if archaic fan on the ceiling. It turned at the speed of [ the opposite of light ], and even opening the windows seemed to let in warm blustery air. It was hot.

I went to take a quick shower and saw a sign that said something along the lines of “Do not use the bathroom longer than 15 minutes, be considerate of others”. I thought screw you Mike, I will take as long as I want to shower. Then I ran into four guys coming out the room next to ours.

Another three girls from Ireland in the kitchen. How many people were staying in this apartment?

It was almost comical.

There had to be at least 15 people in the apartment. A real party.

Sometimes all you can do is shower as fast as you can and laugh, (Maybe not at the same time, you don’t want to give the wrong impression).

Gaudi

To sum it up, Gaudi basically designed a lot of famous buildings. Casa Battlo, Parc Guell, Sagrada Familia. If you google ‘Top 10 things to do in Barcelona’, more than a couple of things will be attributed to him. One man. The hype is real.

Gaudi was inspired by nature, and he designed Casa Battlo as a family home for someone who loved the ocean. You can see it in the wallpaper patterned with scales, the curves of the ceiling and the sea-shell inspired glass windows or the way the light sifts through the window.

Sagrada Familia was something else. I like to think I can appreciate beauty, but when I go into churches or museums, I sort of think “That’s nice,” but I don’t really feel anything inside. Sagrada Familia is the first building I’ve been in that made me feel anything. My chest sort of caved in my chest and I felt a real sense of awe as I looked up at the gigantic pillars towering over us, shaped like trees. It felt like something out of game of thrones, and I was a pauper, speechless at the sight.

One side of the church faces the sea and the stained-glass windows are blue-green-yellow, the other faces the sunrise and the orange-red hues reflect it. It really is magical.

Here’s a photo I took of my friend. And then here’s the photo she took of me. I need new friends.

The Incident

Everywhere we looked, people were eating black paella. You could have probably played ‘I Spy’ at any point near the beach and used it, so at 8.30 when we were starved from a day out, we saw Black Paella on the menu and jumped on it.

They brought it out on a steaming pan, and as you can see from the photo, I don’t think there’s really an attractive angle to capture it.

The first mouthful was amazing, I’m not sure how to describe it besides rich.

Me and my friend hummed happily as we chewed that first bite. And then she said, “I wonder what makes it black.”

 “Probably the onions,” I said. (I don’t think I even bought that).

“Let me google it,” she said.

“Don’t google it,” I said, shovelling more into my mouth. “I don’t want to know.”

It’s safe to say she googled it and didn’t eat another bite. Meanwhile I funnelled it into my mouth before I had a chance to change my mind. The air was tense.

The only thing that salvaged it was our walk back. The sky was black but the beach was lit up, “Shall we?” I said, and we sat on the sand and watched the waves for a bit. The moon was round and full (more full than my friend), and the energy on the beach was amazing. Some people were having a little dance party beside us, doing moves that they probably wouldn’t have done if sober. Three older women, probably in their sixties were posing, taking photos together by the water. Couples sat together intimately talking. You could see the silhouettes of people paddle boarding beneath the moonlit sky. It was midnight and beautiful.

Some Random Travelling Thoughts

Barcelona was my first time staying in a hostel by myself, (I stayed a couple days after the Airbnb accommodation ended), and I was honestly a bit nervous. Flashbacks from the movie Taken kept replaying in my head-I was just kidnapping material, right here. But when it actually got to it, it was fine, it was actually fun.

The first day I got chatting to some people from America while they were doing laundry and got invited on a night out. I didn’t end up going because I had the energy of a potato, but it’s just to say making friends isn’t as hard as you think. People are all there to have fun and are generally pretty open. Some hostels even have different activities that they do, e.g. a paella making class, a bike tour, make your own mojito class, so there’s no shortage of ways to meet people.

If you’re worried about solo travel- just do it!

The one thing I would say is bring ear plugs. Rookie error. No hanky panky took place in the room, but Barcelona is like party central, and people were getting ready to go out at like 2 am, in and out all night, so unless you’re comatose, pack them.

Anyway, this isn’t really a travel guide. I guess this is a tribute to Barcelona.

It may not look like much when you get there, but if you roam around you’ll be surprised by what you find on the street- maybe a flamenco dancer, someone singing or strumming their guitar, an ice-cream shop tucked away in the corner, a man describing what he can see to his blind girlfriend, someone holding a water-pistol and banana to your head (this actually happened). Maybe none of it makes sense, but it’s life, there’s so much life.