As per your request, I will take you to church. Even though my religion isn’t very churchy at all, I’ll still accompany you… as long as it’s the Sagrada Familia.
This structure is one of the anomalies that refuses to let its essence be captured by any document. The magic is firmly implanted among the tree trunk-like basalt columns, stunning inclusion of geometric patterns found in nature like honeycomb hexagons and snail shell spirals, and overflowing abundance of color that spills through the multitudinous stained glass windows.
You can take a virtual tour here, if you’d like. It’s a fraction as amazing as it is in person, but even so, even its photographic component reeks of wonder. Try it out.
Another reason I enjoy this building is because it’s so new. Although old things have their own type of beauty, the SF’s pristine basalt columns and very clean interior spoke its its young age. Indeed, even though Gaudi spent something like 16 years living in it and working on it before he was killed by a tram, it’s still being built. Not refurbished- built.
After that “religious experience”, I headed off to Park Guell, another brilliant and fun work of Gaudi. This is where everyone takes the quintessential Barcelona picture; you know, the one with them on the pretty mosaic bench with a nice view in the background?
The park had its special architecture-filled terrace, but most of it was in fact a real tree-filled park. With some great views of the city. And illegal souvenir sellers, some of whom I, half amused, half saddened, watched flee from the police who tried to pounce on them very unsuccessfully owing to their noisy vespas. (Sorry if that was a run-on. Writing this as I’ve settled in at home on day 2, fighting off jet-lag and reverse culture shock! Haven’t experienced much of that at all, to be honest. But why am I telling you this when you should be living in my Barcelona memories?! Back to the land of Picasso and Columbus!)
Quick nap-and-rally at the hostel, then a trip to the El Born area for some much-anticipated shopping. It’s amazing how loath some tourists are to leave the main drags: Just heading down one side street brought me to a vibrant yarn and clothing shop where I had a private opportunity to view the lovely wares and see the huge loom that created them up close. Without a companion, I was able to step in and out of shops much more quickly and at my own pace, leading me to see more and present myself as a sole traveller open to conversing with the shopkeepers. With a friend, it would’ve been very different. For instance, I walked into a handmade clothing shop with lots of asymmetrical shirts and dresses, a kind owner who humored me with my limping Spanish, and her funny, hysterically sobbing 6 year old son who wanted money but obviously wasn’t receiving any. Then I talked to a man who made purses with felt and introduced myself to his nameless cat.
I guess I’m leading to the fact that being a solo traveller makes you appear more vulnerable, even if you don’t feel that way, and there are various positive and negative consequences. I personally enjoyed it so much and look forward to visiting foreign countries alone again.
Enjoyed another dinner of tapas (mmm fried calamari!) and patiently refused a date from my very doting waiter. More moments of reflection through journalling at dinner. Wandered to the ocean, satisfied my beachy vibes quota, and retired for an early flight the next day.Then I packed up my life and came back home. Maybe it was the mood-stabilizing power of my pepita-plentiful trail mix, maybe it was the long-term, premature mourning period I’d begun in early May to start nostalgia-izing London before I left, maybe it was just time to go home. But so far it’s been two full days at home and I’m very comfortable. My parents have made my transition very pain-free and the ego boost from posting study abroad pics on Facebook hasn’t hurt (too much, yet, but that’s going to change very soon. I feel it.) I will say that upon landing at JFK, two immediate things I noticed about Americans are that 1) we are the nation that gives its police incredible gun privileges and 2) let no one doubt our obsession with sweatpants.
So yeah, I’m at home now. No more London until who knows when. This blog has reached its final post! I appreciate those who have taken the time to keep me in their life through my writing. Now before I get sappy or say goodbye or anything here’s a few pictures I put on my walls that reminded me of who I was amidst tough periods of self-doubt and difficulty.
While studying/living abroad definitely has its challenges, I encourage everyone to at least consider it both as a college student and as an adult looking to add depth to their life. Count me as another one in the legions of study abroad zealots.