It had been three days. Only three days, yet it seemed as if we’d finished half of a semester studying abroad in Barcelona. Every new city block & each human interaction was an opportunity to uncover what was next, which was always a mystery. The air was humidly warm, the epitome of summer upon our skin’s pores. An annoyance to the comfort-driven yet a pleasant reminder of its fleeting season to others. The sun was out early, bright in our district of the city. The previous night’s adventure had delayed our inevitable rise. Nevertheless, we awoke to bold faces - mostly those of our newest friends, some of new acquaintances, their first night at the hostel.
We walked eastward, toward La Sagrada Familia. “The Sacred Family” Cathedral was and is famous for its impressive height, age, and cultural significance to the Catalonian (and Spanish) culture(s). The streets were bustling with a smorgasbord of business-oriented residents, lightly clad nomads, and eclectic characters of the surrounding areas. The day had only just begun for us but was well under way for the organism that is Barcelona. We, I will admit, did the touristy thing and purchased tickets to see the aforementioned cathedral. The lines were insanely long and arduous, and possibly more varied and interesting than those you might see at Disney World. The structure itself was gigantic, like a desert monolith, firmly set in the center of an international city. Just seeing it from the outside, if you could drown out the public chatter and pitching street vendors, was an awe-inducing experience. The air stunk pleasantly of delicious street food, the music changing twice each block. The tourism of that place was peaking, and it was apparent. Yet, there was an oddly sure sense of meaning to that place.
We walked eastward, toward La Sagrada Familia. “The Sacred Family” Cathedral was and is famous for its impressive height, age, and cultural significance to the Catalonian (and Spanish) culture(s). The streets were bustling with a smorgasbord of business-oriented residents, lightly clad nomads, and eclectic characters of the surrounding areas. The day had only just begun for us but was well under way for the organism that is Barcelona. We, I will admit, did the touristy thing and purchased tickets to see the aforementioned cathedral. The lines were insanely long and arduous, and possibly more varied and interesting than those you might see at Disney World. The structure itself was gigantic, like a desert monolith, firmly set in the center of an international city. Just seeing it from the outside, if you could drown out the public chatter and pitching street vendors, was an awe-inducing experience. The air stunk pleasantly of delicious street food, the music changing twice each block. The tourism of that place was peaking, and it was apparent. Yet, there was an oddly sure sense of meaning to that place.
Inside La Sagrada Familia
The interior was flooded by lights of all colors, patterns, and intensities. It was difficult to actively look down and navigate through the omnipresent crowd in the chapel. First-world cultures from all around the world seemed to be equally represented - an infinite mixture of dialects, complexions, and religious predispositions were weaving amongst each other as in a jar full of “sand art” that hasn't yet been inevitably mixed together into a color of odd beauty. Observing each human’s take on this special place - their first reactions, their raw expressions - I think, was the most intriguing part of the deal. A deal that I’m glad we paid “too much” for. I will admit that I have seen more beautiful cathedrals, especially after traveling through much more of Spain, so after a short while we were ready to continue our day’s walking. North.
With a quick consultation to the map and a general direction of attack, we made the adult decision to buy ice cream. Like I said, it was HOT. And with those delectable minimart-bought ice cream treats in our stomachs, we continued our walk uphill to Park Güell. Antoni Gaudí, well-known for his most admired (and also very hated) architectural work, is the creator of the Park Güell. This place was an artful maze of tile-laden structures, pillars, towers, and seating, complete with… … more tourists, of course. As breathtaking as it was (and the views of the city from atop were to die for), we began our descent back through Barcelona, wandering for food after about two hours observing Gaudí’s masterpiece.
Walking through yet another new region of the Catalonian capitol pulled a bit of adventurous energy from our tired selves. Walking for who-knows-how-many kilometers had taken its toll, yet the legs will keep moving when the appetite is impossible to ignore. Two or three kilometers later, and with no particular direction in mind, we found a literal whole(s) in the wall which seemed to have a decent pizza selection, tapas, beer, and wine. This is exactly what we were naively hoping for.
With a quick consultation to the map and a general direction of attack, we made the adult decision to buy ice cream. Like I said, it was HOT. And with those delectable minimart-bought ice cream treats in our stomachs, we continued our walk uphill to Park Güell. Antoni Gaudí, well-known for his most admired (and also very hated) architectural work, is the creator of the Park Güell. This place was an artful maze of tile-laden structures, pillars, towers, and seating, complete with… … more tourists, of course. As breathtaking as it was (and the views of the city from atop were to die for), we began our descent back through Barcelona, wandering for food after about two hours observing Gaudí’s masterpiece.
Walking through yet another new region of the Catalonian capitol pulled a bit of adventurous energy from our tired selves. Walking for who-knows-how-many kilometers had taken its toll, yet the legs will keep moving when the appetite is impossible to ignore. Two or three kilometers later, and with no particular direction in mind, we found a literal whole(s) in the wall which seemed to have a decent pizza selection, tapas, beer, and wine. This is exactly what we were naively hoping for.
Park Güell
Walking into the restaurant, our greeting was boisterous and genuine. I replied in Spanish, but after Chloe’s slow-to-speak-English response, they gladly showed their bilingual capabilities and presented us each with cold beverages. An Estrella Galicia beer for me and a sangria for ma' lady. After taking a second to settle in with each other and with our respective chairs, we tok our first few sips of well-deserved alcohol and then realized that every person in the restaurant was extraordinarily attractive. Also, many of them were smoking cigarettes. So when in Rome... I lit one to a full flavorful drag. Trying to ignore the death-suggesting image on the nearby pack of cigarettes, Chloe and I felt as if we were in a movie set without knowing. Maybe some sort of reality television show? As if waiting for the confirmation of that notion to be served to us with our pizza, we probably gave a strong vibe of enamor to anyone people-watching nearby. But it was not a television set, and there were no cameras. Only tobacco-smoking Spaniards enjoying the tasteful beginnings of their respective evenings.
A beautiful meal & another tasty drink eventually prompted us to settle the bill and continue on our unknown trajectory. Something in our street-wandering reminded me of the day prior, in which I went solo from Chloe for a long skateboarding session through the city - something I demand of myself just as much of each new city I visit. After skating at MACBA (Museum of Contemporary Art in Barcelona) for an hour or so, landing a few manual tricks and meeting a few fellow skaters (all with different countries of origin), I’d decided to push through the city, giving up the temporary experience of skateboarding “grail spot” for the uncertainty of new finds on other city blocks. Skating MACBA, for those that skateboard, was like skating LOVE Park in Philadelphia. People travel from faraway places for the opportunity to roll on that familiar ground. The same we’ve seen in skate videos for decades and the same that have rendered some of the biggest moments in skate history. The international camradery of skateboarders was apparent, and the vibes were good, but I had expected to see more local skateboarders… The local Barcelona skateboarder was definitely the least common of the skaters that I saw, which is what tempted me to venture outward.
A beautiful meal & another tasty drink eventually prompted us to settle the bill and continue on our unknown trajectory. Something in our street-wandering reminded me of the day prior, in which I went solo from Chloe for a long skateboarding session through the city - something I demand of myself just as much of each new city I visit. After skating at MACBA (Museum of Contemporary Art in Barcelona) for an hour or so, landing a few manual tricks and meeting a few fellow skaters (all with different countries of origin), I’d decided to push through the city, giving up the temporary experience of skateboarding “grail spot” for the uncertainty of new finds on other city blocks. Skating MACBA, for those that skateboard, was like skating LOVE Park in Philadelphia. People travel from faraway places for the opportunity to roll on that familiar ground. The same we’ve seen in skate videos for decades and the same that have rendered some of the biggest moments in skate history. The international camradery of skateboarders was apparent, and the vibes were good, but I had expected to see more local skateboarders… The local Barcelona skateboarder was definitely the least common of the skaters that I saw, which is what tempted me to venture outward.
Skating the Streets
Meanwhile, heading south toward the Mediterranean coast, there were familiar ledges, pole jams, and stair sets galore. Some were worthy of stopping to skate alone - others showed signs of too much risk or harsh security which waned the attraction. The push and coast of those urethane wheels on the tiles, slabs, bricks, and raw concrete of the city was to die for. The visceral feeling of connection to a city by using it more deeply than most, the feeling of making your own path and all the while navigating the crowds and car traffic more efficiently than a bicycle ever could - it was the classic kid-in-a-candy-store scenario. Stopping for photos in the city became secondary. I just didn’t want to stop. Cruising through Barcelona on those four wheels is the perfect compromise of adventure between walking, taking in every sight, and cycling, whizzing by them to catch that stoplight or miss the pedestrian. Not wanting to pause, I was skating along the harbor when I glanced at three skateboarders together.
These three French travelers and lifelong skateboarders were my new companions for the rest of the day. Each of a different age, each from a different city. One from Carcassonne, one from Bordeaux, and one from Lyon. they were all very friendly and just as excited to roam the city as I was. Already cruising along a picturesque harbor, we continued along the ground of large slab tiles. We constantly found obstacles to skate that seemed directly pulled from a skatepark of our dreams, sometimes being kicked out but more often being oogled at by tourists of all types.
Albeit a bit awkward to be at the center of attention, it became a lot of fun. Despite the circus-like feeling of a performance, the routine became as entertaining for us as I imagine it was for them. One particular “spot” inspired us to record our tricks. What can I say, the Instagram culture fueled us to document our moves for posting so that our friends back home could see, and it all went very well. Feeling as alive as ever, we pushed south along the ground of Barceloneta toward the beach…
- 7Ply Epic
These three French travelers and lifelong skateboarders were my new companions for the rest of the day. Each of a different age, each from a different city. One from Carcassonne, one from Bordeaux, and one from Lyon. they were all very friendly and just as excited to roam the city as I was. Already cruising along a picturesque harbor, we continued along the ground of large slab tiles. We constantly found obstacles to skate that seemed directly pulled from a skatepark of our dreams, sometimes being kicked out but more often being oogled at by tourists of all types.
Albeit a bit awkward to be at the center of attention, it became a lot of fun. Despite the circus-like feeling of a performance, the routine became as entertaining for us as I imagine it was for them. One particular “spot” inspired us to record our tricks. What can I say, the Instagram culture fueled us to document our moves for posting so that our friends back home could see, and it all went very well. Feeling as alive as ever, we pushed south along the ground of Barceloneta toward the beach…
- 7Ply Epic
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