Note: After finishing this blog entry, I'm somewhat appalled by how long it is. It probably looks intimidating, but I wanted to record the details of what happened this weekend in Barcelona. After all, ironically it's the details that slip away first yet are probably the most important. I tried to break it up by alternating descriptions of each of my hostel-mates with paragraphs about sightseeing, and of course lots of pictures!
The Spanish Man: Carlos. The first roommate we met was Carlos, the 40-year-old Spanish man who definitely loved having two young American girls as roommates. Carlos's favorite outfit was a light blue towel wrapped around his waist, and we rarely saw him in anything else. I think this was his goal, because once we came back around 4 in the afternoon while he was taking a nap fully clothed, and when he woke up and realized we were there he immediately changed into the towel. I have to note though I really only saw him get a shower maybe once- he just liked to walk around in the towel. He also called us beautiful every time we walked into the room. The compliment would have been much better received if he had had pants on. Carlos could understand English, but spoke to us only in Spanish except for a few words. I should rephrase that- Carlos spoke Catalan, which is the language spoken in Catalunya in the north of Spain. Catalan is sort of a mixture of Spanish and French. If you go to Catalunya and speak only Spanish, it's definitely not enough to get around. The signs, the shop names, everything is written in Catalan, which is like Spanish in some words but not most. I'm not exactly sure what his job is, but he was staying in the hostel (Urbany Hostel, for anyone who plans to visit Barcelona) while he was on business. Hostel Juan (more about him later) referred to Carlos as "The Catalunyan" instead of "The Spanish Man," and when I asked him why Juan said that if we asked Carlos himself, he would not say he was Spanish, he would say he is Catalunyan. It's interesting how much Spaniards identify with their region- I would never say "I'm a Pennsylvanian."
We left our home on Calle Pages del Corro in
Sevilla at 4:15 am on Friday (Valentine's Day) in order to catch a bus to the airport. Our flight left Sevilla at 7:35 am, but it's customary in the US to arrive 1-2 hours in advance of flights. This is not the way in Spain. Here being one hour early is more than sufficient. When catching our return flight out of Barcelona, Hostel Juan and the Russian Man were shocked when we told them we wanted to catch the 6 pm bus to the airport when our flight didn't leave until 8:55. After a slightly rocky flight, we decided to do some shopping/exploring before 1:30 pm when we could check into our hostel. Our exploring led us to Las Ramblas, which is the most famous shopping street in Barcelona. One of the girls we were traveling with had a friend who studied in Barcelona and told her about an amazing crepe place located in a market off Las Ramblas, and we made this our goal. I couldn't help thinking, upon entering the market, that if you were missing one of your five senses it wouldn't really matter all that much- all five were appealed to at the same time, it was sensory overload!
The colors hit my eyes before anything else- the fruits and vegetables were saturated with color and thinking they were anything but picked from the fields that very day seemed unrealistic. As the food was saturated with color, the air was saturated with the smell of fish and other seafood and with the voices of vendors enticing shoppers to their stands with deals and also with conversations, as older women met one another to discuss the best stands to purchase their groceries from. We stopped at a stand selling chocolates of every imaginable design and flavor and of course couldn't help ourselves from selecting some. It was incredible that by running my fingers over the chocolates I could feel the ridges and details with which they were designed. The taste of all the foods was the best sensation of all! The chocolates were rich and creamy- everything that chocolate should be with nuts and mint and caramel and turron and coffee flavors combined. I also bought a cup of juice that quickly became my favorite drink- mango and coconut juice. Even though the beach of Barcelona was over an hour walk from Las Ramblas, I felt as though I was already there while drinking this wonderful tropical concoction. In keeping with the theme of the juice I also had a cup of fresh pineapple, strawberries, and coconut. I love the flavor of coconut, but I've never actually had a coconut before now. It was difficult to eat and I gave up after a couple chunks because I don't like to bite into foods and it was too hard to cut, but the fruit was all sweet and juicy and savory! We returned to the market the next day, Saturday, as well for lunch. Emily got a dish from a stand called "Organic is Orgasmic" that had probably at least 15 questionable-looking foods in it. Anyone who knows me knows I'm definitely not brave enough to try that- I ate a cup of pineapple along with a glass of strawberry and coconut juice.
The Russian Man: Edgar. Edgar was definitely the funniest member of our little hostel group. We had known him for less than half an hour on Friday when he began eating a sandwich in our hostel room at 2:40 in the afternoon. After eating the sandwich we heard him laugh for the first time, a sound that will be unforgettable as long as I live. His laughter is the kind that rolls and doesn't leave the room even after his mouth shuts. He laughed with his tongue out, his whole face quivering with amusement instead of just his mouth. At 53 years old, Edgar considered himself a "tourist for life." When he was 18, he began his obligatory service in the Russian army where he ended up in Afghanistan. This next part I'm a little unclear on- he didn't speak English very well and spoke to us in Spanish. Juan tried to translate the parts of the story that we didn't understand, but some of the details were lost in the translation. What I did understand was that a bazooka exploded near him during the war and put him in a coma for six months. He also still has two bullets lodged in his body. Because of this, he smokes marijuana at least twice a day in order to keep his muscles relaxed. He has been literally all over the world traveling and meeting new people. According to him however, Barcelona is the best place in the entire world. He was impressed with Emily and I for traveling so much at only age twenty, and he encouraged us to never lose that sense of adventure and willingness to embrace strangers and let them into our lives as we did with him.
We started off Saturday by taking the metro to Parc Guell, which is where Gaudi lived amongst a park that he designed. The park is beautiful- full of palm trees (which are quickly becoming my favorite tree) among other kinds. Of course the natural beauty was enhanced by the perfect weather that we had during the weekend- it was sunny and around 63 degrees both Friday and Saturday! There were families picnicing and friends playing frisbee throughout the open sandy spaces in the park. We spent probably over an hour walking through the park and exploring the beauty that was around us. I think that I love parks because it's like a small getaway from the city life, but Parc Guell, though absolutely gorgeous, was small and cramped, and not open and sprawling like the parks I prefer in Sevilla and Pittsburgh. However it did have some breathtaking views of the entire city, like the one below.
After the Parc Guell we headed back to our hostel to drop off our bags from shopping that morning before heading to the beach for the remainder of the afternoon. However upon arriving at our hostel, we received the saddest news- our favorite hostel-mate, Juan (see below), had been switched into another room! We were so sad to see Juan go- he was definitely the most normal roommate that we had in room 1201. We changed into more beach-appropriate clothing, and then walked the half hour (which has become a short walk in comparison to how much we walk in Spain) to the beach! Every single time I go to a beach I always feel so excited and kind of jog the last few meters to the sand. It's just so wonderful! I love the open sand and the endless water, especially when the water is the wonderfully clear blue of the Mediterranean. I think it's so fascinating to think about where the water that is touching your feet has been other than where it is now. When we returned from the beach, we had a moment of panic- there was a man asleep in my bed!! I definitely was a little freaked out, but at the same time I felt like this was exactly the kind of hilarious and awkward thing that happens in hostels. However to our absolute joy, we discovered while climbing up the ladder to my top bunk with the intention of waking the stranger, we realized it was Juan!!
The Belgian Man: Hostel Juan. Juan was the member of our hostel room 1201 who was most like Emily and I. At 22 and very good looking, Juan was a college student from Belgium who was in Barcelona completing the required internship during his last semester before graduation. Originally Carlos told us that Juan was from Finland, and then later Juan told us that he was French. It wasn't until giving me his phone number that I realized that +32 is not the country code for France (+33 is) and after calling him out on this, he laughingly admitted to us that he was from Belgium. I'm still not really sure why he lied or why it was so funny, but I guess everyone has their own sense of humor? We bonded with Juan quickly- Friday night while getting ready to go out, Emily, Juan, and I ended up sitting on his bed for three hours sharing a sandwich, drinking, and talking about everything under the sun- Barcelona, Belgium, France, the United States, and everything in between. Juan had come to Barcelona when he was younger, and knew that this was the place he wanted to return to to complete his internship. He also had many other options, including Paris and London, however he still chose Barcelona. He spoke four languages fluently- French, Spanish, English, and Dutch. Although he wasn't technically a local, he still knew enough of Barcelona to be able to offer to be our personal tour guide on Sunday!
Sunday we woke early and said goodbye to our hostel-mates, some goodbyes more sad (mostly Juan) and some definitely more joyful (Carlos). We walked to Gaudi's famous Sagrada Familia, which there is no better word to describe than insane, but in an enrapturing, majestic way. Although construction on the Sagrada Familia is not scheduled to be completed until 2026, which is 100 years after Gaudi's death, it was still absolutely breathtaking. It's been wonderful to see all the beautiful cathedrals in Madrid, Toledo, and Sevilla, but they were all built over 700 years ago. It's so inspiring to know that the Sagrada Familia was built recently (in just over the past 100 years) and possibly has even more detail and intricacy than the ancient cathedrals. It's lovely that buildings like this don't have to be old to be beautiful, cared for, and historical.
After the Sagrada Familia, we walked back to Las Ramblas, not entirely sure what we were going to do for the rest of the day before our flight. The answer came to us in the form of a text from Juan- he had nothing to do until 7 pm, and would we be willing to spend our last day in Barcelona with him? We readily agreed, and he said that he (along with Edgar, see the group picture below- Juan is in blue and Edgar is in the tan jacket) would take us to the Olympic Park, something that I didn't even know existed. However indeed, the summer Olympic games of 1992 were held in Barcelona, and the Olympic Park is now open to the public. The main stadium is still used for sports games and concerts today. Juan had never been there, but his friends had told him that it was definitely a place that he should visit sometime during his stay in Barcelona. I'm so glad he took us there. Standing in the massive stadium was an out of body experience- I couldn't help think about how many people had been there before me, and what it meant to them to be there, both athletes and spectators alike. I especially liked being there because although it is something that tourists do, it's not necessarily something that Barcelona is known for and it's not a super popular destination for tourists. Also, Juan knew a lot of the history behind the buildings and places, and he was the perfect tour guide for us. Visiting the Olympic Park with Juan and Edgar made our Barcelona experience unique, and something worth telling.
The Japanese Man: I honestly cannot remember his real name. He spoke English well, and explained to us that he was here in Barcelona by himself to do some sightseeing before moving to the next city. What a brave young man, exploring the world by himself. He went to sleep early, and slept in the bunk closest to me. We were both on the top bunks along the right hand wall. He was so tall, and when he slept a lot of the time his feet extended onto my bed, which led to some semi-awkward sessions of footsie in the middle of the night.
The Chinese Man: I don't know his name either. He spoke English very well because he does business in Chicago sometimes, as well as Germany. He rose very early in the mornings, well before we did, and came back after we had already left for the nights. We didn't see much of him. but he was pretty normal. Although he did comment on how beautiful he thought I was, and slept in his underwear which I knew because he tended to throw off his covers while talking to me.
The French Man: 90% sure his name was Amin. Amin did not speak English or Spanish- only French. This wasn't so bad because we had Juan who could translate for us, but obviously Juan didn't want to spend his entire time translating from French to English and back again. Amin took over Juan's bed when Juan got moved out of our room, but he arrived before we knew that Juan got switched into another room. As a result, when we came back to the room and saw a man without a beard sleeping in Juan's bed, our instinctive creepiness took over and we leaned over him trying to figure out if Juan had shaved his scruff or if this was indeed a new member of our little family of 1201. Amin came out with us on Saturday night, and he seemed to enjoy himself. It was just harder to get to know him because of the language barrier.
Overall this weekend was perfect. Yes, I prefer Sevilla. Yes, Carlos was probably the creepiest 40-year-old I've ever met. But it's wonderful how these six strange men have become a part of my story, and I've become a small part of theirs. All we did was book the cheapest possible room for the weekend, and I'm sure that they did the same thing. None of us expected to meet each other, yet meeting them was the highlight of my trip. I think that's what traveling is all about- it's not always what you do, it's who you do things with. Sometimes it's the other way around, but this trip it was definitely who we did them with. How many other people did the same touristy things that we did? Hundreds of thousands. How many did them with the filter of a crazy Russian and a random Belgian they've known how a couple of hours? Zero. That is why this trip was beautiful.
