Here the buildings turn and twist, ocean waves of architecture against the clouds in the sky. They are streaked with colors brought directly out of a dream. Never in my life had I known a place could look like this; just like wonderland.
But this is Barcelona and it feels like anything is possible.
Before a few of my friends from camp told me that they were going to be in Barcelona and it would be a perfect weekend to meet up, I really knew nothing about this city other than what I had seen as a twelve-year-old watching Cheetah Girls on Disney channel. I was enlightened to its greatness soon enough.
Around ten at night, I took my backpack and stepped onto a bus at the Gare Routiere. The next morning I was at Barcelona’s North train station, wondering just which way was south west. Eventually I figured it out and made it to my hostel.
There Monica was waiting for me.
AHHHHHHHH. We were so excited to see each other, and of course spend a good portion of the day talking about camp. We also wandered the streets of this beautiful city, which were both ancient and modern pressed together. It was rainy, but people were out and about.
We took a tour and learned about the history of Barcelona. We took a cooking class and learned how to make a Paella and Sangria. I had tapas for the first time. I was awestruck by a building. I drank some freshly squeezed juice made from a fruit I had never heard of before.
And that was only the first day.
The second day Monica and I met up with yet another camp friend. It was great to be in Barcelona, halfway around the world, so far from where we had started. Welly, Monica and I together in a place so much different than Camp Foster.
Although it was hard to say which place was more beautiful. Barcelona with its bright Goudy Architecture and giant food markets does come close to being as beautiful as that one lake in Western Iowa that has been my home for so many summers.
Barcelona, of course, though, was much different from that familiar spot at camp. Yet, eating churros and laughing about stories of ours, I got a little taste of home and it was absolutely wonderful.
But this is Barcelona and it feels like anything is possible.
Before a few of my friends from camp told me that they were going to be in Barcelona and it would be a perfect weekend to meet up, I really knew nothing about this city other than what I had seen as a twelve-year-old watching Cheetah Girls on Disney channel. I was enlightened to its greatness soon enough.
Around ten at night, I took my backpack and stepped onto a bus at the Gare Routiere. The next morning I was at Barcelona’s North train station, wondering just which way was south west. Eventually I figured it out and made it to my hostel.
There Monica was waiting for me.
AHHHHHHHH. We were so excited to see each other, and of course spend a good portion of the day talking about camp. We also wandered the streets of this beautiful city, which were both ancient and modern pressed together. It was rainy, but people were out and about.
We took a tour and learned about the history of Barcelona. We took a cooking class and learned how to make a Paella and Sangria. I had tapas for the first time. I was awestruck by a building. I drank some freshly squeezed juice made from a fruit I had never heard of before.
And that was only the first day.
The second day Monica and I met up with yet another camp friend. It was great to be in Barcelona, halfway around the world, so far from where we had started. Welly, Monica and I together in a place so much different than Camp Foster.
Although it was hard to say which place was more beautiful. Barcelona with its bright Goudy Architecture and giant food markets does come close to being as beautiful as that one lake in Western Iowa that has been my home for so many summers.
Barcelona, of course, though, was much different from that familiar spot at camp. Yet, eating churros and laughing about stories of ours, I got a little taste of home and it was absolutely wonderful.