After 20 Years of Travel, I Finally Arrive in Spain

When I was 12, each student in my 7th grade social studies class was assigned a European nation on which to write a 3 page report (which seemed like a lot at the time, though I'm sure I'll outdo it in length with this post). Mine, as you might have guessed, was about Spain.

Now, I have a good memory for the names and places and events of my life. 7th grade examples: the teacher, Mr. Cyrus, had a blond mustache and named his newborn first son Bradley, because he wanted "a good, strong, masculine name" for his boy; one day, a friend of mine distributed Pop Rocks candy to the bulk of the class and, at a predetermined time, we all tossed the full packets in our mouths, creating a cacophany of fizzing and cracking sounds, incapacitating said, gentle Mr. Cyrus with rage; the class pet, Alice Pierce (who did not participate in the Pop Rocks gag), would always have an extra pencil to loan me, as I repeatedly would lose my own (this trend would continue in 8th and 9th grade history classes, but it still blew my mind years later when, on my first day of college, in my first class on the Ancient Mediterranean, I turned to the girl next to me to ask for a pen, only to realize it was Alice).

The impossibly long point is: I hardly remember a thing about that paper. Spain had some catholic royalty at some point, had a civil war, and exists on the Iberian Penninsula. Nevertheless, I came away from that week of school with a burning desire to visit the country. In the time since, I have been to Japan, Mexico, Australia, Canada, Costa Rica and, according to some classified government reports, Cambodia.

At last, 20 years later, I made it to Barcelona on a Tuesday morning. After a long walk through the airport, a longer wait at baggage claim, and an excruciating long time trying to report my missing suitcase, I finally boarded a train heading towards my new temporary residence, the excitement of decades beating hard in my chest. At last, sunny, tapas-and-sangria-infused, post-catholic, socialist, siesta-loving Spain was mine to behold.

Too impatient to let the escalator do the work, I climbed the stairs out of the subway station only to be greeted by a cold, hard rain. I hadn't even packed for this in my missing suitcase. Never mind, though, because the first thing I see is celebrated turn-of-the-century architect Antonin Gaudi's Casa Batlló, essentially a tall townhouse he was hired to refurbish. As you can see from my photo, the results are astounding.



In Barcelona the streets have names, though you might not know it to look at them. I'll have photos of my neighborhood, l'Eixample, in a future post. For now, let's just say it took me awhile to get my bearings in the rain, as the massive edifaces filling every city block look remarkably similar to the hasty eye. Eventually, I figured out that the street signs are generally placed on the corners of certain buildings, affixed subtly to the stonework and, after walking a few circles, soaking wet and nevertheless giddy, came across my new pad.

My roommate met me at the door, showed me to my room and set me up with the wireless connection. Not to sound too boring, but I went straight to work. I had the energy and intent to explore, but with several hours and, as it turns out, days of rain yet ahead, I chose to fill the afternoon catching up on some business and corresponence and take a siesta. To be quite honest, despite my conversational experience in Costa Rica and a recent, rigorous study to reenforce my spanish language education, once I was face to face with native Spaniards I found myself a little intimidated, unable to comprehend much or find the words I wanted, leaving me trepidatious about venturing too far into the city.

Fortunately, the rain stopped for awhile in the late evening, giving me a chance to get lost in the streets again, finally discovering how close I am to the center of it all, Las Ramblas, where I at last settled on one of the myriad tapas restaurants for some pork and croquettes. This would prove enough of a first day. After all, I will be here a couple months at least, and it behooves me to pace myself, both in my adventures and with regard to this blog. So that's all for now. ¡Lo Siento!