It was Five a.m. Saturday morning and I had a bus to catch at six. It was raining and it would be a 35 minute walk to the Rotund. But by noon I would be in Barcelona, so after hitting the snooze button twice, I decided to carpe diem!
Seven hours and four naps at an upright angle later, I opened my eyes to see palm trees and fields of green. The rain in Spain evidently does stay mainly in the plain.
"Allo, allo," the tour guide George whispered into the bus microphone, "Désolé de vous réveiller, mais nous sommes arrivés."
The day was a perfect combination of sun and breeze and the chilly dawn walk through Aix was a million years ago. George took us on a tour of the city, pointing out architecture and fountains. I marveled that I am an American being spoken to in French in the middle of Spain. I bumped into people on the crowded streets and said "Désolé, erm, sorry, uhh, pardon!" I should know more words in Spanish by now.
George dropped us off at the markets for lunch. The options were overwhelming. There was fruit and candy and juice and pastries everywhere. Legs of pigs hung from stand awnings and rows empanadas were lined up in wooden boxes. I just pointed and said "por favore."
The rest of the day was spent shopping with girl friends and getting gelato whenever the craving arose. When the stores started to close around 9 p.m. and the restaurants opened, it was time to try Paella and tapas. This whole experience should be relabeled "eating abroad."
The next morning after a breakfast of churros and hot chocolate, my friends and I embarked on our second day in Barcelona. We saw Gaudi's Casa Batlló. This was one of the most whimsical homes I have ever been in with its circular windows and ceiling painted like tortoise shells.
We saw Gaudi's style again in La Sagrada Familia, only this time on a much larger scale. La Sagrada Familia is one of the largest Cathedrals, and construction projects in Europe. Construction started in 1882 and is not projected to be done until 2026, think about that next time you have to take a detour at Towson. Though certainty impressive, to my aesthetics I cannot say as though the Cathedral is beautiful. There seemed to be too much happening on one facade. There is a mixture of Gaudi's playful hints of nature to the structured lines of classic goth architecture and modern almost cubist statues tossed in among classic spanish parapets and columns. The eye does not know what to focus on. Inside however, perhaps because they have not finished, was simple and beautiful with geometrical patterns in stained glass reflecting onto pristine white columns.
The architecture of Barcelona has been some of my favorite of all of Europe. Each building has some little quirk or elegant feature that distinguishes it from the rest.
My favorite place in all of Barcelona was the La Monumental, the bullfighting arena. There was an old man sitting in a closet at the entrance whom we were not sure actually worked there or if he was homeless but we paid him five euros to go in.
The arena was deserted. It was just the four of us and 20,000 empty seats. We found the entrance for the bull ring. With just an audience of seagulls we ran around, skipped, yelled and laughed in the sand. We pretended to be bulls and matadors. It was the general silliness and euphoria that happens when you stumble upon something great.
As we were leaving the ring we noticed a matador museum tucked into one of the arena's corridors. As we approached it a Spanish man in his 70's hopped up from his chair and started beckoning "Niñas, niñas!" We came over and said "hola." He looked very excited and for some reason he looked at us and started telling us about his wife, pointing to his ring finger and saying "Chino." "Apparently he has been married to a Chinese woman for the past eight years," my friend translated.
He gestured us into the museum and proceeded to push us past all the displays, still telling us his life's story in Spanish. We came out into a court yard over looking empty pens where they kept the bulls. My friend who could speak Spanish translated as the man rambled nonsense. "50 bulls!" He said pointing to the pens. Then he pointed to us and said "Pretty girls." He repeated this gesture over and over. "50 bulls here once, four pretty girls!"
With a flick of his hand he waved us over to where there was a display of matador costumes. "Four pretty girls, look, and after, I take your picture." He rounded us up around the bust of a famous matador without explaining anything and took our picture. Whether it was because of the language barrier or if he was an eccentric, he is one of the most strange and endearing people I have met in Europe so far.
Though I am not a partier or embrace many aspects of my millennial culture, Spain really made me embrace being young. Exploring Barcelona on foot all day, drinking a goblet sized glass of sangria, writing a poem to our funny spanish waiter about paella and sleeping in a tiny hostel room with 7 other girls are things I can say I did in my 20's. For the first time I feel like I really am being the spontaneous care free 20-something that all those movies and songs say I am supposed to be. It was very fitting that I went to Barcelona in the springtime.
Seven hours and four naps at an upright angle later, I opened my eyes to see palm trees and fields of green. The rain in Spain evidently does stay mainly in the plain.
"Allo, allo," the tour guide George whispered into the bus microphone, "Désolé de vous réveiller, mais nous sommes arrivés."
The day was a perfect combination of sun and breeze and the chilly dawn walk through Aix was a million years ago. George took us on a tour of the city, pointing out architecture and fountains. I marveled that I am an American being spoken to in French in the middle of Spain. I bumped into people on the crowded streets and said "Désolé, erm, sorry, uhh, pardon!" I should know more words in Spanish by now.
George dropped us off at the markets for lunch. The options were overwhelming. There was fruit and candy and juice and pastries everywhere. Legs of pigs hung from stand awnings and rows empanadas were lined up in wooden boxes. I just pointed and said "por favore."
The rest of the day was spent shopping with girl friends and getting gelato whenever the craving arose. When the stores started to close around 9 p.m. and the restaurants opened, it was time to try Paella and tapas. This whole experience should be relabeled "eating abroad."
The next morning after a breakfast of churros and hot chocolate, my friends and I embarked on our second day in Barcelona. We saw Gaudi's Casa Batlló. This was one of the most whimsical homes I have ever been in with its circular windows and ceiling painted like tortoise shells.
We saw Gaudi's style again in La Sagrada Familia, only this time on a much larger scale. La Sagrada Familia is one of the largest Cathedrals, and construction projects in Europe. Construction started in 1882 and is not projected to be done until 2026, think about that next time you have to take a detour at Towson. Though certainty impressive, to my aesthetics I cannot say as though the Cathedral is beautiful. There seemed to be too much happening on one facade. There is a mixture of Gaudi's playful hints of nature to the structured lines of classic goth architecture and modern almost cubist statues tossed in among classic spanish parapets and columns. The eye does not know what to focus on. Inside however, perhaps because they have not finished, was simple and beautiful with geometrical patterns in stained glass reflecting onto pristine white columns.
The architecture of Barcelona has been some of my favorite of all of Europe. Each building has some little quirk or elegant feature that distinguishes it from the rest.
My favorite place in all of Barcelona was the La Monumental, the bullfighting arena. There was an old man sitting in a closet at the entrance whom we were not sure actually worked there or if he was homeless but we paid him five euros to go in.
The arena was deserted. It was just the four of us and 20,000 empty seats. We found the entrance for the bull ring. With just an audience of seagulls we ran around, skipped, yelled and laughed in the sand. We pretended to be bulls and matadors. It was the general silliness and euphoria that happens when you stumble upon something great.
As we were leaving the ring we noticed a matador museum tucked into one of the arena's corridors. As we approached it a Spanish man in his 70's hopped up from his chair and started beckoning "Niñas, niñas!" We came over and said "hola." He looked very excited and for some reason he looked at us and started telling us about his wife, pointing to his ring finger and saying "Chino." "Apparently he has been married to a Chinese woman for the past eight years," my friend translated.
He gestured us into the museum and proceeded to push us past all the displays, still telling us his life's story in Spanish. We came out into a court yard over looking empty pens where they kept the bulls. My friend who could speak Spanish translated as the man rambled nonsense. "50 bulls!" He said pointing to the pens. Then he pointed to us and said "Pretty girls." He repeated this gesture over and over. "50 bulls here once, four pretty girls!"
With a flick of his hand he waved us over to where there was a display of matador costumes. "Four pretty girls, look, and after, I take your picture." He rounded us up around the bust of a famous matador without explaining anything and took our picture. Whether it was because of the language barrier or if he was an eccentric, he is one of the most strange and endearing people I have met in Europe so far.
Though I am not a partier or embrace many aspects of my millennial culture, Spain really made me embrace being young. Exploring Barcelona on foot all day, drinking a goblet sized glass of sangria, writing a poem to our funny spanish waiter about paella and sleeping in a tiny hostel room with 7 other girls are things I can say I did in my 20's. For the first time I feel like I really am being the spontaneous care free 20-something that all those movies and songs say I am supposed to be. It was very fitting that I went to Barcelona in the springtime.