I believe I left off last time being torn from dance floor at the gay club at 3am. Doesn’t sound like me, does it. One thing I really try to do when I travel is embrace whatever scene it is I’m experiencing, embarrassing or uncomfortable as it might be. I feel like it took a while, but by the end of my time in Barcelona I felt like I was truly embracing the Spanish lifestyle. But we’re not there yet.
The day after the party all was quiet in the WhatsApp group chat as most people took the day to recover. A few of us headed down to the beach for my first dip in the Mediterranean in a very long time. This is probably my favorite thing about Barcelona — it is a super urban city that meets the edge of a very beautiful sea, and from any given lookout point, the big blue stretches out and makes me feel at home. And a dip in the sea is a great hangover cure.
It wasn’t until I dove into the crystal clear blue turquoise of the water that I had my first “I could live here” moment in Barcelona. Surprisingly, took a solid 4 days for me to have that aha moment. Not to say that I didn’t find the city fascinating, and wildly fun, but I didn’t really connect with it.
For example, we so happened to be in the city during the Gracia Festival, which is one of the biggest neighborhood parties of the year. Streets were decked out with themed floats, decorations, street side bars, bands playing music, art installations… it was creative, fun and super high energy. It is also definitely a celebration for the people of the Gracia neighborhood, and while anyone can attend, it felt like an exclusive club. Maybe I’m being overly sensitive, but I talked with an ex pat who’s lived in the Barcelona for 8 years about it, and she had similar feelings about the city in general. Not to mention the “fuck tourists” and “go home tourists” signs everywhere, which I get it, but um who else is going to buy your kitschy magnets and other crappy souvenirs? For the record, I’m not knocking the Gracia Festival. It was the coolest street party I’ve ever been to. It just wasn’t enough to make me want to move there.
We took a family outing to the labyrinth garden and surprisingly lost no one
Spent time in a fancy rooftop pool
And then, after a bunch more partying and doing a bunch of other cool stuff, everyone left, and left me all by my lonesome. I would have left Barcelona with the rest of them, but my buddy Adam, who I met sailing in the South Pacific, and his lovely fiancé Lauren, who I had yet to meet, decided to meet me in the city for some Spanish shenaniganery.
Unfortunately I had to leave the hotel room I had become very fond of, and massively downgrade to a hostel bunk bed, because I waited too long to book the extra few nights and hotel rooms were outrageously expensive. At least my hostel was right off Calle Blai, where Adam and Lauren were staying with a friend. So I packed up my little life, hefted it on my back, did my laundry, hopped on the bus, and then the metro, then walked a block in the wrong direction, and showed up to my new home hot and sweaty. At least I had clean clothes.
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