Barcelona!

So, for those of you who weren't aware, I went to Barcelona this weekend! Clearly such an event merits a blog post.

Thursday night I boarded a train with Sam and Jon, spending all 12 hours of the trip's duration-- layover not included-- attempting to drown out the sound of a fat Frenchman's snoring in our couchette. At some point in the night I contemplated "accidentally" knocking a complimentary bottle of water onto his head. Sam tried snapping his fingers to no avail.

And then we arrived. Both days we were there, it was 75 and sunny: absolutely gorgeous. So gorgeous, in fact, that we walked. Everywhere. We walked all the way to the hostel from the train station, poor Sam having to carry his luggage in his hands. Barcelona has gorgeous architecture, even the Gaudi buildings aside. And so different! In Paris, most buildings look relatively the same. Barcelona had everything, more modern buildings aside art nouveau, and those aside from very classical buildings. And so many balconies! It reminded me a little bit of Tel Aviv. Then again, both are Mediterannean...

A typical Catalonian building:

Barcelona is known for 2 things: its bustling nightlife (which I of course took advantage of), and its numerous buildings by fin-de-siecle art nouveau architect Antoni Gaudi. He quite possibly might be my favorite architect at the moment. His work is both ornate and organic, modern and timeless. And SO original. Nobody can be "Gaudi-esque": there is only Gaudi.

This building was only a few meters away from our hostel:
Gorgeous.

After arriving at the hostel-- right at Passeig de Gracia, practically the 5th Ave of Barcelona-- we met up with everyone (there were 9 of us total!) at Parc Guell, aka "Gaudi's Park." If you've ever seen "L'Auberge Espagnole," this is where the main character has sex with the French lady. That's right, on those wavy mosaic-covered benches. Frankly if it wasn't a movie, he'd never have pulled it off. It was PACKED with tourists, which didn't detract a bit from its fairytale charm.


View of all of Barcelona from the top of the park, including Gaudi's famous (yet-unfinished) church, Sagrada Familia:


While we were walking out of the park, Jon had an aventure with a Catalan woman dressed as a witch. She was standing on top of the fountain and asked to be placed on the ground, he gave his hand, she jumped on him, he put her over his shoulder and KISSED HER. It was a moment of horror and hilarity for all of us. Ok, more hilarious than horrible. There was black residue on his face from the makeup and everything.

Afterwards, tapas for dinner (appetizer-type things) and adventuring in the infamous Barcelona nightlife. Memories include a British man dressed as an angel, his quarter-wolf guard dog, water bottles full of not-water, gypsies dancing flamenco on the street, pitchers of Sangria, and never-have-I-ever. A good night, except for poor Nate who lost his wallet to infamous gypsy pickpocketers.

Saturday, up at 8:30 for our free hostel breakfast. Hangover aside, proceeded to Joan Miro park and walking around aimlessly. We happened upon the University of Barcelona campus, without a doubt the most beautiful campus I have ever seen. There were gardens! And koi fish! And cats running aroung! And palm trees!


The rest of the day included wandering around the beach boardwalk. Authentic Barcelona. To be honest, most of the trip consisted of waiting around for somebody else. Just sitting, relaxing. Just being. And that's fine with me. It's also the price you pay for a trip with 9 people, most of whom are living in completely different places. Thankfully most of them were in the same hostel.

More nightlife adventures that evening. Dinner in Spain starts at 10 and lasts until midnight, and then the real fun begins. The next day, however, was a complete disaster. Barely made the 10 AM checkout at the hostel, missed breakfast, and it was overcast. Terrible for sightseeing. And then we lost Sam, and my cell phone died, and so did his. Regardless, ended up seeing the Sagrada Familia:

Was raining, so didn't get a very good view. And we also ended up going to the zoo, where I took many pictures of adorable animals, all of which would be completely redundant if I put them up online. Except this hilarious rabbit-like creature, whose name I completely forgot:

Then, unfortunately, back to the 12-hour train ride, thankfully without a "ronfler"-er (snorer) this time. And the layover in the Mediterranean town of Cerbere was relaxing. Sam, Jon, and I made a new friend and relaxed on the rocky sands while waiting for our train to arrive. Sam and Jon went swimming but us girls weren't quite so gutsy, so we just sprawled on the sand smoking cigarettes. A beautiful night.
Strange to think I was sitting on that sand, throwing rocks at the Mediterranean, just 24 hours ago. Traveler's blues, I guess.

While in Spain, Sam and I talked extensively of the differences between Spanish and French culture, and how it manifests itself in language. Spoken Spanish is a beautiful thing, warm and vibrant. Just like the Spanish/Catalan people: overflowing with energy, open and enthused, extreme in many facets and generally much happier than the French. These are of course generalizations, although a little part of them is true. The French are more enigmatic, cold and distant although infinitely polite. The French are people of moderation and restraint, the Spanish of vibrancy and activity. In Spain I felt, many a time, how different it would be to study in a Spanish-speaking country; perhaps it'd be better, however much I love Paris. Warmer (literally and figuratively). But then I arrived in Paris this morning, and as the train sped mast the Assemblee Nationale train station--covered with murals promoting the government and the great works of the nation of France in the past few decades post-Mitterand--and I remembered why it was that I was studying here and not Barcelona (language barrier aside). I instantly got La Marseillaise stuck in my head, again. France is romantic, idealistic, intellectual: a grand country. Just grand.

But, back to Barcelona. What will I think of when I think of Barcelona? Light-filled streets at 2 AM. Parrots in Palm Trees at Parc Guell. Flamenco music. Children running around laughing, parents in tow. Sangria. Tapas-hopping. Sunlight and warmth. Seafood Paella. For once, forgetting about homework and wandering, just wandering. If I could, I would wander forever, "flaner"-ing around the world, a slightly happier Baudelaire.