Bar[th]elona.

This was the first time I have traveled quite so alone. What a truly incredible experience it was, too.

I have always wanted to go to Spain - since freshman year of college when I had to choose which Spanish-speaking area I would focus my studies on: Latin America or Spain. I chose Latin America, as it provided more variety in coursework and with the immigration patterns back home, I figured it made more sense. I do not regret in the least that decision; but I knew I wouldn't have much of a fighting chance of getting a study abroad trip to Spain included with college since it wasn't required.

It's so much better to have accomplished that goal on my own! Abuela and Opa, the paternal set of grandparents who live in Madrid are visiting our house this week, and as such I was blessed with the opportunity to take a long weekend. Unfortunately, not many of my au pair friends get time off on a random occasion, so there weren't many options as to whom I could convince to go with me. I am so thankful to Becca for convincing me that I could go on my own, and for the confidence that I am sure came as a result of prayer about it.

I booked my flight with RyanAir, the discount airline here which is similar to Southwest [but actually even cheaper] to get out to Barcelona. The only problem really with RyanAir is that in order to maintain such low costs, they fly in and out of small town airports, usually an hour or so out of the town you are trying to go to - oh, and they usually fly at odd times of the day where your arrival will put you into town at 2am. Instead, I chose to take the early flight, which had me arrive where I could still enjoy my first day in Barcelona, but that required me to get up at 4:30am to take the very first RER from my house at 5:08am, to connect to the metro, to get on the bus out to the airport for my flight. [That's right - 4 transportation methods.]

So, other than being incredibly sleepy, arrival was great. For accommodation I decided to do something which I had only recently heard of and was a bit skeptical of: Couch Surfing. CouchSurfing.com is an online community, basically of hippies, that allows travelers to find other travelers with an open-door free-couch mentality. I found two hostesses that were willing to have me as a temporary roommate, and in addition to meeting some quirky new friends, my Excel spreadsheet budget looks much nicer without the potential hostel expenses. This definitely added to the uniqueness of the experience in Barcelona – my first hostess, Elvira, is a native Barcelonan who has been hosting couch surfers nearly every week for the past two years, and had rave reviews. She was a wealth of information that was a great supplement to the guidebook that didn’t leave my purse, and was great for practicing my increasingly rusty Spanish with! My second hostess, Silvia, is a Slovakian English teacher who moved to Barcelona about the time that I moved to Paris, and was truly great. I met up with her Monday morning, and after dropping off my stuff we headed to the beach with a small picnic and had some good conversation. Silvia was raised in an Eastern Orthodox Christian household, which unfortunately I don’t know much about, except what she told me: that it is quite pretentious, stuffy, and showy. And not much about God’s love of people, or our love for people; consequently, Silvia relates more to principles and values of various religions, and has chosen a vague spiritual path for now. I am praying that she will find the fulfillment and profound joy that I have in knowing the grace that God has given me, and hope to maintain a friendship and good conversation with her.

My planning for this trip didn’t extend far; I figured I could lump attractions together by geographic proximity or relational correspondence, and for the most part that worked. I have never had an experience that was such a perfect blend of education, attractions, and relaxation. Living in Costa Rica, there were definitely touristy attractions to go see and do, but as soon as you got to the beach that is basically all there was to do. Which was wonderful; I have absolutely no complaints. Paris, with the exception of cafes, is really all about the going and doing and seeing. Barcelona has a fabulous blend of the two, in that it is a city founded by the Romans before Christ, and so is steeped in history. But, as it is a beach town, and a Latin culture, it is imperative to being a cultural tourist to take in the sights and the city and the people from a bench, or a beach blanket.

I started Saturday with heading to Las Ramblas, five connected streets that ramble on a path from Placa Catalunya down to the dock and Port of Barcelona. I checked out the market, walked on, had a bite, walked on, watched street performers, walked on, and found a sunny spot on some grass at the end by the boats to people-watch and read. After a bit I headed up to the architectural stunners by Antonio Gaudi, and saw his Casas in the north of Barcelona. They sit side-by-side, and form the Block of Discord, because of the clashing styles of the architecture. One evokes that ugly southwestern style rug that everyone’s aunt probably had at one point in time, with the stair-step configuration and sunset-like colors. The other, Casa Botllo, has a wavy façade and is covered in a rich mosaic of colored tiles and glasswork. Very impressive. Down a block or two is the Pedrera, the most famous of the casas built by Gaudi. It is wavy in stature too, and has incredible ironwork on each of its many balconies, windows and doorframes.

I also checked out the Museum of Contemporary Art. I thought I liked contemporary art. Apparently not, but the building was a cool structure, and the teenage hipster skater crowd seemed to agree. Great tapas polished off the evening.

Palm Sunday, I rang in Holy Week with a televised mass outside of the Sagrada Familia temple, the church the Gaudi began work in 1882 that is still under construction. There was a lot of palm-frond waving, but it was neat to see such crowds of believers gathered to celebrate. I ducked in a side entrance to a chapel where I stumbled across a much more intimate gathering, and enjoyed finishing up 2 Samuel[nothing much to do with Holy Week, but what I happened to be reading at the time]. When I finished with my two masses, I discovered that they had finally opened up the ticket counters for tourists to enter the temple, and thus I only waited in line long enough to polish off the sandwich I had packed and then I was in…

…To the most incredible architectural display I have seen. I have been blessed with opportunities for travel and exploration, and thus have seen some great displays of intricate architecture. But never before have I seen something so innovative and so intricate. I will have to go back in 2026 upon the estimated time of completion to see what it will look like without scaffolds, cranes and sheet plastic.

After five hours at La Sagrada Familia, I decided I should probably head on, so I went to the Picasso Museum and the Museum of Design. Both were notably awesome. After the beach with Silvia on Monday, I went to Park Guell, designed again by Gaudi, and enjoyed some cool views of Barcelona as well as some nice time with green space and not quite as many tourists. [Still a lot.] I saw the gothic cathedral of Barcelona and then went back to share a great dinner with Silvia. My last day in Barcelona, Tuesday, I went to the Museum of Catalan Music, as it has fabulous tile work, mosaic stained glass fixtures, and a stunning auditorium. The History of Barcelona museum is probably the greatest history museum I have ever seen. The museum is built into and on top of the original Roman city of Barcilo from before Christ, and allows you to tour the ruins of a wine production center, a garment production factory, several homes, and even the outer defensive wall, which you can see above ground as it makes up parts of the museum’s walls.

Then I headed to the beach and enjoyed calamari and sangria with seafood paella. A very perfect Spanish meal to round off my time in the sun before coming back to windy, rainy, cold Paris. But, it’s become home.