I went to Barcelona this past Tuesday. The trip was an impulsive decision. We had a long, long weekend because of two holidays (Constitution Day and Day of the Virgin of the Assumption) and on this particular day I did NOT want to be in Alicante doing nothing for ten days. My funds are doing fine, so I bought a ticket and told myself to save some money I would couch surf. For those that are unfamiliar, couchsurfing.org is a non-profit organization with the goal of making travel more personal and accessible to people. People create profiles telling their interests and previous travels and what they're looking for, a couch or even just a drink or coffee. Once you get started, you see that it's pretty safe--people leave references, "identity vouchers", and reviews of their experiences. So a few weeks ago I sent out some requests for couches. I got declined by some because of availability, and some accepted. The one that ended up working with my schedule was a 26-year-old guy named Mustafa who seemed pretty amiable, so I made my "lodging" plans.
My flight was at 8:45 on Tuesday morning which of course meant I had to wake up at 6 and, as such, did not get a wink of sleep the night before. I always have terrible anxiety before I fly, especially early in the morning. I have nightmares about losing my passport, or luggage, or not making the flight. At least I got a little sleep on the flight.
I got into Barcelona at about 10, got into the city center, and had about 5 hours to kill before meeting my host. It was a perfect day for wandering. I went to the Joan Miró park, with lots of chattering parrots, and Plaça Espanya, that had a lot of great fountains and landscaping, and sat by the National Museum of Art.
I liked the solitude that traveling alone offered me. It was nice to be alone with my thoughts and not feel like I was obligated to do anything. I did get a little teary at some points thinking of Erik and how my overall sentiment with traveling is that it's an invaluable experience and so fun and rewarding, but Erik makes everything better. I thought of my friends and my mom and sister, and how I wish they could share these experiences with me, but I know we share so many experiences already and will have more adventures when I get home.
Anyway. I decided I needed to caffeinate, so I arbitrarily chose a direction to walk and stumbled upon this café with a sweet typeface (I am the person marketing people live for. I WILL choose an establishment to patronize based on the font they use for their business). It was a lovely little coffeeshop called Ben and they had REAL COFFEE. This was a huge deal. Since I have been in Spain I have not had any good coffee. Espresso is nice sometimes, but I just want a giant mug of good joe. I didn't realize what a snob I have become, caring about the palate of my coffee and the topnotes and nonsense like that. The baristas here were really nice too. I initially started talking to one, Chris, because he had a non-Spanish accent (he is English). After that I met Bernardo, the Portuguese/British owner. We all chatted about Spain and homes and how they ended up in Barcelona. They asked where I was staying and I told them I was couchsurfing, at which point they got very serious and told me that they both had places I could stay were my plans to fall through or my host ended up being a serial killer or something.
I met my host later that afternoon and we wandered to his place. Literally wandered, he only moved in a week ago and wasn't exactly sure how to get back. He also informed me he didn't have a couch, but he would sleep on the floor. I was in a good enough mood where I forced myself to roll with the punches but I was also hearing a voice in my head asking what I had gotten myself into. His apartment was tiiiiiny, as well. At this point I was still willing to roll with the punches.
Mustafa made us dinner and then I said I wanted to walk around Barcelona a little bit, so we went out wandering for a while and went for some drinks. It was a harmless sort of awkward for the most part--he speaks Italian better than he speaks Spanish so he was talking to me in this Romance-language fusion. I can understand Italian for the most part, but the language barrier was a little frustrating. After a little while the awkwardness progressed: First, when I walk sometimes I just shut up and get lost in my thoughts. I think I take for granted that the people I love the most don't need to talk when we're together. Sometimes we're very okay just being in each others' company. So it's a pet peeve that when I'm quiet people ask "What's wrong? Why are you quiet?" like Mustafa did (he also asked if I was really drunk, which was almost insulting since I had had a grand total of two beers over an hour and a half). I told him I was fine, that sometimes I just don't talk, it doesn't mean anything's wrong, but he KEPT ASKING. He also asked if I wanted to go out (as the Spanish are wan to do) and I told him honestly that I was about to drop from exhaustion and just wanted to go to bed. He got a little whiny about it--it was his day off the next day and he wanted to go out. That made me REALLY frustrated, because a) he agreed to host ME, and I think hosting should not be about accommodating the host, b) I told him during our correspondence that I was NOT a partier and wasn't interested in Barcelona nightlife, and c) he is 26 years old. Don't whine at me like I told you you couldn't go to your best fwend's birfday party.
So we got back to his apartment and as I was brushing my teeth his roommate's girlfriend poked her head in the doorway and wanted to know who I was and if I was spending the night. She then got a little mad at Mustafa because APPARENTLY no one told them I was coming and spending the night. So after I was ushered into the bedroom while Mustafa and his roommates had a Discussion (which is uncomfortable for me, I felt like Mommy and Daddy were fighting over something). Mustafa then told me that no one knew I was coming (which I responded wasn't MY problem) and gave me a little song-and-dance about how bad his living situation is and whatever. I told him that I wasn't going anywhere that night, because it was 11:00 and I wasn't about to wander around Barcelona looking for a hostel, but I would do my best to find another place to stay the next day. I went to bed feeling a little frustrated, but at the same time amused, because go figure that would be my first couchsurfing experience. I had other people that agreed to host me for my time there, and worst case scenario I would've gotten a hostel.
So the next day I went back to Ben and Bernardo asked me how my experience went. I told him I was on the hunt for another couch because of the mini-fiasco that took place the night before, and he said to look no further because he had a place where some friends stayed a few weeks ago. He told me to meet him at a metro station later that day.
In between my lodgings, I checked out an art exhibit about contemporary art in the 50s and 60s. They had a really great exhibit of Miquel Barceló's work. My favorite painting was "El Artista Borracho", ("the drunk painter"):
And I went to some botanical garden near the National Art Museum
I also hit the Picasso museum that day. The museum is in a renovated building in an alley off the Rambla, the main street of Barcelona. The amount of paintings they had in there was amazing. I didn't realize that Picasso was so talented at such a young age--he was painting realistic-looking portraits by the time he was 15. He also did a lot of ceramics. I know he was as smug as can be, but I think I would be too if I were so talented and I INVENTED cubism. He has an unbelievable range to his work. My two favorite works were really different:
"Mujer con Mantilla" is on the left and "Las Meninas" is on the right. "Mujer con Mantilla" is colored in using
pointilist techniques (I saw that he also experimented with
post-impressionism) and "Las Meninas" is considered a really good example of his Cubist works. He based the painting directly off Diego Velasquez's
"Las Meninas" which is one of the most famous works of Western art. I spent a good three hours in this museum. Picasso has always been one of my favorite artists, and it was so fascinating to see so many of his works in one place.
I met Bernardo right after that and he took me to an empty office space that his friend had used for his business, but had moved so now it was just up for rent. My "room" had a camp bed and a sleeping bag and a lamp. It was really cool, and I felt very hard-core.
After that Bernardo (who told me to call him B, as all his friends do) decided that we should get dinner. He took me to this adorable bistro in his neighborhood where I had the BEST MEAL EVER. Salad was fried sardines with lime and cauliflower/white truffle sauce, the main course was grilled fish with caramelized leeks, white truffle foam, and asparagus, and dessert was rice pudding with cardamom, chocolate wafers, seared pineapple [my favorite ever], and raspberry sauce. I was floored. We hung out for about four hours and just chatted and laughed. It was really nice to speak English fluently with someone besides other American students. Sometimes when I speak Castillian for too long my brain hurts. Especially when I have been awake for 36 hours.
The next day I went to the Sagrada Familia, which was amazing. The Sagrada Familia is a cathedral that started construction in 1882 or so and still hasn't finished. It's supposed to be finished in another 30 years. It's a Gothic-style cathedral but with a lot of modern elements in it. This trip I've learned that I love architecture above almost all other forms of visual art so the Sagrada Familia was a treat. Observe:
The passion façade
The Lord's Prayer and gospel of Luke (?) in Catalán is written on the doors
The back entrance, the nativity façade
nice, sunny, happy addition to a church
The wedding of Joseph and Mary
The coronation of Mary
And then I went to the market, which was a spectacular array of colors and wares
a dragonfruit!
I was reminded why I don't drink anything but beer, coffee, and water in Spain:
7 euros a cocktail equals $9.45. I've heard Barcelona is more expensive, but that is just ridiculous. I could pay that much for HALF A BOTTLE of whiskey.
And I caved and answered the clarion call of one of my favorite mega-corporations
And saw the sweetest graffiti yet
After my wanderings I went back to B's place and he made dinner (pork stir-fry. My contribution was cutting mushrooms) and watched some AMERICAN television IN ENGLISH which was a real treat. I left that night to sleep in the airport (my flight was at 7 am the next day) after giving B my email address and telling him to keep in touch and let me know if he's ever stateside.
It was a little surreal how generous and kind B was. Here I was, this punk 21 year old with no travel experience, and he decided to spend time and resources on me without getting anything in return. He opened up his home (literally, he gave me a key) and made my time in Barcelona really spectacular.
It's also really humbling when I meet people like that. I haven't met a lot of people during my time abroad, but most of the ones I have gotten to know have made my time really special. It's humbling because I know that when I leave, my life will go on without them and theirs will go on without me. I would love to see B again but I know that our paths might not ever cross. Being abroad has made me really value the fleeting moments I have with people, and has made me really thankful for the wonderful, rock-solid relationships I've cultivated back home.
I leave Alicante in a week. I have extremely ambivalent feelings on it. I'm ready to get out of here and start the next new adventure, but I know that I'll miss Spain and being in Europe once I get back to real life. I will have a permanent wanderlust in me until I can pack up and travel again, but I'll be so happy to be at home with all the comforts that being in one's Place brings.
I will update when I get home on travels in Edinburgh, Berlin, and Copenhagen, and until then, hasta luego, mis amigos
Maren
