So Barcelona was basically great from the get-go. Even the flight over was great. Kristina and I had paid for window seats in front of each other, but we barely made it to the airport in time – literally ran through the gate as they made a last-call announcement, so by the time we got on the plane, there were people in the middle and aisle seats on both of our rows. Howeverrr, we boarded from the back, and row 30 was empty, so we just sat down! Since this was the third time I snagged a seat in an empty row 30, I’m thinking the budget airlines must leave row 30 empty for some reason, but since I always board so late, I get to sneak in! And the view was beautiful! I think it was the Pyrenees mountains. Sooo pretty.

Our flight was super stinking early, but that meant we got to Barcelona at 8:20, which meant we had the entire day to explore. Our Airbnb host let us drop off our things early, and he was so sweet and helpful. He even told us he would do our laundry for us. Hahaha. Kristina was worried about him handling our undies butttt whatcha gonna do?

We had passed a cute-looking tapas (small plates) restaurant/ café on our way to the apartment from the bus, so we went back there for lunch. However, we forgot it was still nine in the morning, so it was actually still breakfast time. We got some little sandwiches, and Kristina got an Americano and I got a fresh orange juice. Guys. I have been actually obsessed with fresh orange juice. I think I’ve had a dozen on this trip, and I’ve had at least one a day since we got to Spain. They are just everywhere, and they are so cheap compared to what I would pay at a Jamba Juice or something. I can’t say no! It’s so fresh! It’s like I’m actually just eating a liquefied orange. Gaahhh. If you like orange juice but have never had it fresh-squeezed, you’re doing life wrong.

And then we wandered! There were a lot of shady residential streets with tall apartments lining either side of a narrow, cobblestoned alleyway, and we zigged and zagged our way through. Kristina stopped to get a pollo (chicken) empanada at this little shop at one point, and it was soooo good. I didn’t try a bite until it was almost gone, and then it was too late to go back! But it was one of the juiciest, most flavorful foods I have ever tasted. I am still craving it now because we never managed to find the store again! That’s what happens sometimes when you wander aimlessly. Kind of like how my dad makes jambalaya – he never used a recipe, so sometimes it turns out perfect: spicy, sweet, meaty, juicy; but other times it ends up… meh. And he can never make it exactly the same way twice! I’ve joked that I will start video taping him or writing down exactly what he puts in it while cooking, just in case it turns out to be a perfect batch. Maybe I should start leaving breadcrumbs while wandering, too.

Wandering has its perks, though, like stellar empanada finds and surprise stumbles upon large attractions. I imagine it would have been difficult to miss, even if we’d tried, but we stumbled straight onto the main avenue of Barcelona. The street had a one-lane road for cars on either side of the street, and in the middle was a wide, sunny, bustling pedestrian throughway.

My first stop was for some mango gelato, but then I found this other fruit flavor I had never heard of. I can’t remember the name of it now, but it was very long and started with an ‘m,’ and it had the same sweet, refreshing qualities of mango that I was looking for. Hit the spot!

This street was so fun to wander down, and it seemed to go on and on forever. What was funny was that the shopping stalls were set up in sections: first were souvenir stands, then plants/ seeds and flowers, then art, and lastly, a bunch of those people who dress up and paint themselves and pretend to be statues. So strange! My favorite area was the plants because they had a lot of quirky little things like tiny mugs with cacti growing out of them. I had to stop myself from buying seven.

After this, we continued our wanderings through the city, making our way to the water.

We sat on a little dock for a while to give our feat a rest, and we saw two jellyfish! It was crazy! I dont’t think I’ve ever seen a jellyfish out and about in the wild. The first one was pretty big, and the second was just a baby. Didn’t get a picture, though.

It was pretty sad because there was a lot of trash around us in the water. I think the tide was bringing everything to us, because the water farther out seemed cleaner. There was just so much paper and plastic floating around. I definitely understand how sea animals can confuse plastic for jellyfish and end up eating it; I kept searching for more jellyfish and mistaking plastic bags or wrappers for them. :/

After a good long sit (and the beginnings of a sunburn), we walked along the water until we found the cutest market! There were so many things! I found some adorable hand-made jewelry that was mixed metal and crochet, but I couldn’t decide on just one, so we said we’d come back another day. Then Kristina bought the cutest little purse, kind of like my mini purse-wallet that I use, but slightly bigger and with three zipper pockets instead of two. The biggest one is just perfect for fitting a passport, so she’s been using that as a perfect little travel purse! She also found these adorable flowy shorts:

Spoiler: she ended up wearing them basically every day for the next week, so you’ll see them in many pictures from now on, I’m sure.

The day was really heating up by this point, so we bought a cup of fruit and found some shade near the market to hang out for a bit. We were pretty close to a walking street along the water, and the sides of the path were lined with African men selling anything from sunglasses to bags, shoes, and FC jerseys. I’ve seen groups of guys like this in almost every major city, but what I’ve never whitnessed was the hilarious scene which happened next.

Apparently, these guys weren’t allowed to be selling their stuff here, for whatever reason. A police car came around the corner, and every one of the men grabbed some ropes I hadn’t before notice at the corners of the tarps all their merchandise lay on. They picked up the ropes, and the tarps collapsed in on themselves like rucksacks, which they then threw over their shoulders so they could make a quick escape from the cops.

The police car rolled slowly through the streets as the men dispursed, then turned out of sight.

HOWEVER. Before the car had even rounded the corner, the men came back and began laying out their things again! To no one’s surprise, the police car quickly turned around and drove back to the street, dispursing the men yet again.

This serioulsy happened about a dozen times in the half hour we were sitting there. It was so strange to watch. You would think the salesmen would at least wait a couple minutes to ensure the police were a safe distance away, but I suppose a couple minutes off the streets means a couple dollars of lost business! So strange. So strange.

We then wandered to the cutest little cafe, where Kristina got this gigantic pizza/ flatbread thing for only four euros, and I got a delicious ham and cheese croissant. The drinks around us looked so good, though, that once we fiinished eating, I ordered a coffee and another fresh orange juice. No regrets.

Wow. My head looks strangely large in that photo. Haha.

Next, we bought some art! We found a small art shop with gorgeous originals and prints. However, the originals were a bit out of our price range, and the prints were very high-quality, so we both got a bunch. Hahaha. Oops.

Then, to Barcelona’s mini duomo! So pretty! Unfortunately, we were too-scantily-clad to be allowed access to the cathedral (shoulders and knees must be covered), so we had to view the beauty from the outside alone. There were a bunch of little Spanish women outside the entrance wrapping scarves around girls and women also in shorts or tank tops, and I thought they were just doing this out of the kindness of their hearts and out of respect for the church. But no! We went up and spread our arms to be wrapped up, and the woman said, ‘Five euro.’

Uhhh… Haha. Cute little Spanish lady with a profitable business model. Oh, well. We decided we would come back the next day with our own scarves, instead.

Shortly after this, my phone died, and I didn’t have a charger. I’m pretty sure we just wandered around a bit more, with plans to see a flemenco show later in the evening. When we made our way back to the flemenco restaurant around 7:45pm,  though, we had to pass by the duomo again. And low and behold! A band was all set up and ready to play right on the church’s front steps. We were cutting it close for the flemenco show, but Kristina insisted we stay and at least here one song. So glad we did!

The second the band started playing, about a hundred elderly Spanish men and women popped up out of nowhere and began some sort of hand-holding circle dance to the music! Not a flash mob, or anything. It was some sort of organized dance that must happen all the time. But it was so cute! More and more people kept running under hands to drop their bags in the center of the circle before joining in the ring to finish out the song. I was actually dying. I could not handle it. The music. The dancing. The adorable old peole. It was too much!

Kristina kept trying to get me to join, but I was too nervous, especially because everybody dancing clearly knew the dance already, and also because all the dancers were about forty years my senior.

We sat on the steps with the band, watching the dancing and occasionally sneaking over to the antiques market on the other side of the square, and I kept trying to get up the courage to join. The funniest part was that among all the giant circles of old people, there was one tiny circle made up of three young men. Their style was a bit different, but you could tell it was the same dance. They moved at about double speed, and they jumped around a lot more and kicked their feet much higher. They were also completely focused. It was so entertaining!

We tried going up to them between songs to ask what the dance was all about, and to find out if we could join. However, none of them spoke English, and they seemed pretty freaked out by us. Hahaha. At least we tried.

By this point, we had been watching for almost an hour, and I was REALLY REALLY wanting to dance. I just couldn’t muster the courage! We went and sat near a smaller circle that had a couple of younger people in it, hoping that would help my motivation. Then! A new girl joined the group! A tourist! And she did not know the dance in the slightest! She held hands with the other young woman in the circle (the one I was using for my inspiration), and the Spanish girl tried leading her along.

This was it. This was my moment. If this girl could join without knowing the steps, I certainly could, as I had been studying the dancers’ feet and movements for the past hour! The song ended, and it seemed the whole thing was over!

NOOOOO. I had missed my chance! Oh, woe is me! Why had I been so nervous?!?!?! It was all my fault!!!

But… wait! They were doing an encore!

The young Spanish lady tried beckoning over the blonde tourist girl, but she said no. The Spanish lady insisted, ‘It’s just a little one! A short one!’

Well, that was enough convincing for me. Before the blonde girl could change her mind, I threw my purse to Kristina and hopped up to grab the hand of the Spanish girl.

I was so. Happy.

The Spanish girl kept pulling my hand this way and that to try and give me directions, and she stared intently at my feet the whole time, but all in all, I think I did pretty good! And it was so much fun! Eep! I should have joined earlier!

At the very last second, Kristina popped underneat my arm to throw her stuff in and try joining, but the song ended almost immediately after. Hahaha. We suck.

But yes. It was amazing. And wonderul. And oh-so-happy-making. (:

It was definitely a great way to end a great first day in Barcelona. We popped into a cafe for some late-night dinner, as most things were closed up by this time. We got sandwiches, and I had one of the best coffee drinks I have ever tasted: espresso, chocolate, and condensed milk. Yummmm!!

Day two started off less-than-strong! Kristina woke up at a reasonable hour because her jetlag was still making her wake up pretty early. My exhaustion, however, was doing just the opposite. Every time she nudged me and told me the time, I would grunt, ‘mhmm,’ and then promptly fall back asleep. By the time we left the apartment, it was after noon. First, we headed to our favorite cafe for another round of breakfast and fresh orange juice. We were going to start exploring from there, but… I was tired again. And she felt the tiredness coming on, too. What’s dangerous about our little cafe is that it was so close to our apartment that it was hard to not pop back in. And besides, a one hour nap wouldn’t hurt anything, right?

While this is probably true, we didn’t exactly test it out, seeing as I did’t wake up again until four-ish. Oops, again.

We planned to see all the bits of the city we had missed on Day One, and we were going to start by meeting with Kristina’s friend Prescott. We quickly arranged a meeting place so we would be forced to leave the apartment, and then we set off. The meeting place was this adorable park:

We never did find Prescott, though. Hm. Not sure what happened there. We were pretty bummed, but we couldn’t waste the day anymore than we already had! We headed south to the Olympic park, leftovers from when Barcelona hosted the Olympics in 1992.

On our way there, we passed a fire station. Funny – firefighters are called bombers in Spain. A little counterproductive, if you ask me. As we passed the station, we peaked in through a wire fence and saw about fifteen Spanish firemen playing basketball.

About half of them had their shirts off.

I may have drooled a bit.

Honest to goodness, I was about to take my phone out to take a picture to send to my mom, but one of them noticed us and waved, beaming smile on his face.

We’d been caught!

I waved back quite stupidly before running away and pulling Kristina with me. Gah. I really wanted that picture, too. Tehehe.

The Olympic park took us by surprise when we found it because it was situated on a massive hill. We had to take four or five escalators to get to the top, but the view was gorgeous!

We wandered for an hour or two, checking out the soccer stadium, a botanical garden, and some more great views of the city!

We got lost a bit, but eventually we found our way back to the water to get me my crochet necklace.

We asked if the jewelry was hand-made, just to make sure, and the saleswoman said, ‘Yes, my grandma make all of them.’ Now this was quite surprising because the saleswoman was at least in her fifties, but sitting behind her and to her right was a woman in her nineties, crocheting away! It must be granny! So cute!

I was extremely happy with my purchase at that point, and Kristina was pretty happy with her developing Spanish skills. She was so nervous at first, and on Day One in Barcelona, she kept going up to waitors/ salespeople/ information desk workers, and the first thing she would say was, ‘Do you speak English?’ I told her not to do this, and she said, ‘Well, how else am I supposed to know?’

I explained my philosophy while travelling in non-English-dominated countries: if you can get through the interaction without bringing up English, don’t do it. It can seem difficult or scary, but nine times out of ten, the whole conversation can consist of hello, yes, no, thank you, good-bye! Ordering food can be done by pointing. Paying can be done with a card or with enough cash that it will definitely be enough, even if you can’t understand the numbers they rattle off to you at lightning speed. It might be silly, but I always feel bad when I make somebody switch to English. I feel like people are always stooping down to my level, and if I force them to do so, I will never be making the effort to reach up to them.

When I go to a new country, the phrases I like to know are: yes, no, please, thank you, hello, goodbye, and whatever you would say to someone if you accidentally bumped into them at the grocery store (sorry/ excuse me). I’ve found that with these safely tucked under my belt, I can go entire days without ever speaking to someone in English, and it is positively liberating. It makes me feel like I belong. Like I’m a real Dane, or a real Italian, or a real Portugese girl, even if only in my mind! I feel like I’m tricking everyone into believing I live here and I understand what’s going on around me. (Both total lies. Tehe.)

Kristina was pretty unsure of this, and she continued asking for English for a while, but every time she did, I’d say, ‘Kristina! You could have done that in Spanish!’ And she’d think about it for a second before say, ‘Yeah… I guess I could have.’

I think the first time she really tried out her Spanish was at that waterfront market. She began listening to the Spanish around her and being reminded of words and phrases she had forgotten she’d known. ‘OH!’ she’d say. ‘When you want to ask how much something is, you say, cuanto!’ She remembered little things her mom says to her around the house. (Her mom’s Chilean! A native Spanish speaker!) She tried more and more Spanish, and it seemed to make her giddy, almost. I could see the same excited light in her eyes that I feel in myself when I successfully order a pastry in French. About every five seconds walking through that market, she would look at something and say, ‘Oooh! Bonita!’ and then fall into a fit of smiles and giggles. She’s so cute! She couldn’t stop talking about how much she was loving it and how she was already thinking about coming back to Barcelona. Travel bug: bite achieved.

To finish off the night, we finally made it to the flemenco show we had missed before. Three courses plus wine for me and sangria for Kristina. The fish was delicious, and the show was great! We were a little confused, because the flyers had depicted a young, fiesty-looking dancer, but when the music started, a woman in her sixties popped up to take the stage. She was definitely rocking it, though. The band behind her was made up of an older man on guitar who was positively in love with the music, a younger man on one of those box-drum things that you sit on (can’t remember what they’re called), and an older gentleman who sang with a loud, soulfull vibrato. Overall experience 10/10, and my Catalan creme dessert wasn’t half-bad, either!

On Day Three, our train left late afternoon, so we had plenty of time to do some more exploring. First was some bagel breakfast:

Excuse my face. I was sleepy.

And then we found this famous building, though I’m not sure exactly what it is used for. It seemed like housing? A hotel, maybe?

Some more exploring…

It actually rained our last day here, at least in the morning. It was pretty funny to see the locals, as it was clear that rain is an oddity. Everytime the thunder cracked and it began to drizzle, everyone on the street pretty much sprinted to the nearest restaurant or sunken doorway. The drizzle would pick up into a true downpour for about five minutes, and then the rain would vanish as quickly as it had come. This happened probably half a dozen times as we made our way through the city.

And then, the big one: the Sagrada Familia:

It was gorgeous! So huge! A massive cathedral with so much going on! Such a unique architectural style!

The only thing was…. tickets were sold out. For the entire day.

…. ):

So that was kind of sad… Apparently we should have booked tickets ahead of time online, but we didn’t know and we hadn’t done the proper research. ‘That’s okay!’ Kristina said. ‘We’ll just have to come back!’ Always the optimist. Haha.

My mood was brightened exponentially by the street art we found. I may have accidentally purchased three paintings before talking myself out of buying a fourth. I just love originals! Especially when I get to buy them directly from the artist! And they were so cheap! My bedroom wall is gonna look so hip. And my next apartment? Just you wait.

We wandered a bit more and saw some more castles…

And then we found the most beautiful fountain in yet another gorgeous city park:

Seriously, though! I have nothing against the Trevi Fountain, but why have I never heard of this one?! It was sooooo beautiful! I couldn’t handle it! The water! The green! The massive sculpture of it all! Gahhhhh. I can’t.

And then, the Arc de Triomphe! (sp? haha)

So. Everything was dandy. We still had over an hour to get our stuff from the apartment and get to the train station for our ride to Zaragoza. What could possibly go wrong?

Turns out we were farther from the apartment than I thought.

Much farther.

I’ll save you the gory details, but there was essentially a lot of fast walking, a lot of sweating, a smattering of bickering and whining from both parties, and in the end, we missed our train by about two minutes because we couldn’t find the platform in time.

Our original tickets cost about fifteen dollars, but they were nonrefundable and nontransferrable, so we had to buy new ones for about sixty bucks.

Yeah. I was not a happy camper.

But I got over it eventually, and our train ended up being super nice and over twice as fast as a cheap bus ticket would have been, so…. *shrug*.

To be continued in Zaragoza…

 

Venlig hilsen/ hasta luego,

Lizzy-wa