Barcelona was definitely the busiest stop in that we went non-stop. I almost wish I hadn’t gone to Barcelona, because we saw the least there and now I have less of a reason to go for real, since I’ve already “seen” it. Whereas some cities were really easy to walk around and everything touristy was very close, Barcelona was much more spread out and we walked far to see very few things. I really wanted to see Gaudi’s Mosaic Garden but it was too far away and we just didn’t have time. We really just saw La Sagrada Familia and Las Ramblas, and walked by the water and through the park with the zoo a little. We still walked far, and got a good look at typical architecture, typical streets. Since we had no place to stay, we had to carry our backpacks around with us all day, which was extra tiring.
On the plane from Italy to Barcelona, I couldn’t help being a little excited that I would finally be going someplace where I would understand what was being said beyond “gratzi”. I didn’t know how much Spanish I would remember but I was excited to try! Unfortunately, I had no idea what was going on in Barcelona, but not because I didn’t remember any Spanish—they speak Catalan in Barcelona, the most well-known dialect in Spain. All the signs were in Catalan too, occasionally with Spanish underneath it. It’s also reflected in how people from other areas of Spain (like the South) talk about Barcelona; when we told our hostel owner in Sevilla we’d been to Barcelona, he told use “Barcelona is not the real Spain”. And when someone answered a question our Italian tour guide asked us with “Barcelona”, he shrugged it off with “eh, that’s Catalun”. I had to wait until Sevilla to really use my Spanish skills.
First off, Gaudi is all over that city. It’s his. He owns it. Everywhere you turn there’s some bizarre, wavy building and you think, “Yep, that’s Gaudi”. It’s really interesting to see all these normal but pretty buildings and then BAM! something crazy. La Sagrada Familia was insane, and it’s not even done yet! When Gaudi died in 1926 is was only about 20% done, and they’ve been working on it ever since. It was so cool to see because I’ve never seen anything else like it; everywhere you go in Europe you see some old, stately, beautiful church that’s a work of art, but it’s nothing like this work of art. We were short on time and the line was long, plus Kelli didn’t want to pay the 12 euro to get in, so we just looked at the outside. I so wish I could have seen what he had planned for the inside!
The weirdest thing happened when we were across the street from La Sagrada Familia taking pictures—this guy came up and said he was taking photos for this exhibition he was working on in which they are constructing a body out of thousands of images of people from all over the place, and he was working on feet. He asked if he could photograph our feet for the project, it would only take a few seconds, and we foolishly said yes. It took way longer than a minute or so, and it got more creepy and uncomfortable as time went on; we really think that it was just some random creeper with a foot fetish. He wouldn’t tell us the name of the project (“Umm, it’s untitled") and was shaking a little as he took the pictures, and the camera wasn’t that heavy. The whole thing was just weird, and we eventually just told him we didn’t have the time and had to go. He tried to get us to stay so he could take more but it was just too creepy. I don’t know it he was legit or not but I’m fairly certain we had a strange encounter with a foot fetish man.
That night we had a dish of paella (first of many in Spain) on Las Ramblas, and stretched it out for another two hours over glasses of sangria. Then, when the time was right, we went into the bathroom, changed into dresses, did our make-up, and walked to the club. I don’t know how we ever got in, considering we got ready in a restaurant bathroom and were toting the very stylish mondo-backpack, but we got in no problem and checked our backpacks at coat check. We got there around 12:30 and there was no one there; we started to get a little nervous. Around 1:30 it really got going and we just danced until four, where we reclaimed our bags, walked to the bus stop, and took the first morning bus to the airport. It was way better than any of our hobo nights, but I was exhausted. We’d been up since 7:30, flew from Rome, walked around all day carrying our heavy backpacks, then danced for four hours. I don’t remember take-off or landing, I woke up when people were taking their bags down. I got such a story out of it though!
Barcelona pictures for you to enjoy: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rachelgoesgreek/sets/72157626613287226/
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