Barcelona is an interesting mix of a city—both ancient and ultra-cosmopolitan a city that has stood for centuries, with Roman ruins from before the time of Christ peaking out around the edges, and modern day masterpieces still being completed. The Gothic Quarter of the city is too old to be wide enough for cars to pass through; sunlight barely filters down into the dark, narrow alleys with tall buildings rising on either side. Yet, in many ways, Barcelona has only been on the world stage in the modern era since the 1992 Olympic Games came over the summer and thrust the city onto the world stage—and the world has found it worthy.
Yet, I didn’t know what to expect or what I would find. There wasn’t a specific landmark I was looking to see when I booked my ticket, though once I started looking around at things to do in Barcelona, a few rose to the very top, very quickly. But on my first day in the city, as clouds crowded over the sky and I knew rain was coming, I wasn’t sure what to make of this place. I was saving those high ticket items—the ones everyone will tell you to do—for Saturday, and on Friday I was simply heading in the directions of some sights—most notably Castle Montjuic—and was curious what I would find along the way.
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| The Museu National d'Art de Catalunya sort of up close. |
I found Plazas stretching around and up in an grand display of statue and beauty. I found (what I later discovered was) the Museu National d’Art de Catalunya rising up above a series of staircases that only got grander the higher I climbed. I found the former Olympic stadium and where the flame was kept burning during the games 26 years ago. I debated with myself about the 20 minute walk up to Castle Montjuic, but the reviews were consistent—it would give me a display of the city that could not be missed. So despite the thickening clouds and fewer people, I climbed.
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| The view looking the other way from the Museu. |
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| The Castle Montjuic. Before the rain. |
Up, and around with occasional peaks through at the cityscape down below, and it was majestic. I kept going though it was a little chilly outside but my body was warm beneath my sweatshirt and slightly sweaty. I paid my 5 euro entrance fee and saw the port side of Barcelona, the area I wasn’t nearly as interested in. How would I describe this place and the feel of it, I wondered. How could I possibly capture it when I didn’t necessarily have a feel yet for this place and what it was like to be here? And then the city laid itself out for me as I stood overlooking this ancient, and yet entirely new, place.
Much of what I did in Barcelona was typical and at times touristy. Certainly as the rain finally came down at the Castle, it was one of the only times all weekend that I wasn’t surrounded by people. So I wondered, was I missing part of the soul of the city by not trying to find the hidden corners and the things only locals would know? What was this place and how could I capture it, even if not in words, in my own heart?
Feeling soggy and stuck, and certainly no closer to an answer to a fairly existential question, I accidentally came upon the cable cars that were more expensive than walking down, but also far quicker and dryer. And made it much more impossible for me to get lost. Somehow, by the time I was at the bottom, the rain had mostly stopped and I made my way to a tapas bar that Google Maps promised was close by and highly rated. It was warm and cozy and not so crowded that I was scared away. In about five minutes at Blai 9, I had a glass of wine, and the Spanish version of chicken nachos and my journal out in front of me. Life was good.
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| The fountain is still good. But see all the umbrellas? |
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| There isn't just one fountain--but many! |
It was total dumb luck I told her. Feeling pleased with myself and the world, I paid and headed back towards the fountain, slightly less excited that it was starting to sprinkle down rain again.
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| The Barcelona Cathedral rises almost out of nowhere in the Gothic Quarter. |
By 9:00, it was rainy steadily, umbrellas lined the walkways crammed with people, and though the weather didn’t affect the fountain at all, I found myself ready to go and not be soggy and cold with sore feet, so I went back to my hostel. I laid in bed, massaging my feet that were very cranky after a day in new shoes that weren’t broken in well but had gone over 20,000 steps, and I wondered about this place I had come to and what I might possibly learn about it over the next 24 hours.
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| Las Ramblas performers |
Saturday was the day for all the things that everyone—even people who don’t like touristy places—agrees are necessary stops on a trip through Barcelona: Las Ramblas, complete with a stop at Mercat de la Boqueria, and La Sagrada Familia.
I took a walking tour of the Gothic Quarter and was amazed at everything hidden in its depths, and ended up near the statue of Christopher Columbus that ends Las Ramblas. Though I have no lost love for the man, I have to admit that the area in his honor is impressive and the lions guarding it in different positions are well done. (I love when lions guard things, especially libraries.)
Then I strolled in the sunshine, enjoying the energy, the people, the hustle of this famous street. I ignored the restaurants selling paella and enormous fruity drinks, opting instead of an empendada at a stall inside the Mercat (it was delicious) and some ice cream back on the main street. It wasn’t a tourist trap (though there were tourist trap stalls) and it wasn’t just a quiet pedestrian area (though it was clearly made for strolling). There were street performers and souvenir shops and people everywhere.
I sat on one of the few chairs, resting my feet, enjoying my ice cream and looking at how far away La Sagrada Familia was. I knew I had to go—it was practically mandatory—and if I took the Metro it wouldn’t be that far. It would check off the last major item on my list of this city that still needed days more of exploration before I might understand. Before I might have an insight into what exactly the heart of Barcelona was and the rhythm it beat to.
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| Inside the market! |
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| Christopher Columbus ends Las Ramblas, looking to the sea. |
The stop I needed was conveniently named for Gaudi’s unfinished masterpiece, so I knew it would be close by. I was on the escalator coming up to street level when I saw people staring open mouthed and already raising their phones to take pictures. And when I stepped off, I saw why. A masterpiece in stone and marble that looks like it might also be made of drippy sand rises above you, overwhelming the senses and leaving me awed.
I walked around, keeping one eye on the immense building until I found a place out of the flow of traffic to stop and try to take it in. It was amazing and unique and completely indescribable. As I walked around it, seeing the different angles and the completely different and unbelievably complex ways that it changed from one moment to the next, I was absolutely dumbfounded. It can be seen in pictures, and I’m sure going inside it is even more incredible, but I found I couldn’t even begin to conjure what to say about it.
I found a quiet bench in a little park overlooking the chapel, a small plastic glass of wine in my hand from the street festival, a small lake in front of me before the cathedral rose immensely. I sat, contemplating it quietly, feeling almost private. And then a tour group of at least two dozen Asians—I couldn't catch exactly which language they were speaking—descended on me, squeezing in for selfies and chattering in disbelief about the masterpiece. Was this part of being a modern wonder too? If I was going to see the Eiffel Tower in Paris and the Coliseum in Rome (and I am), I probably need to get used to this—the majestic being crowded by the mundane and the selfies at many turns. And I couldn’t really blame them. I had taken a few shots of myself in front of the building too.
But, maybe this space—not the touristy crowded one, but what it surely must be early in the morning, before anyone is awake---this is why La Sagrada Familia is Barcelona’s most famous, most iconic site. It is the beating heartbeat, the soul of the city because it is truly like nothing else, and still evolving into something close to a finished product. Different at every turn, worth far more than a quick, passing glance, maybe this was the best way to capture Barcelona in my heart. That all the sides, equally different, equally lovely, were equally necessary to beginning to understand this modern wonder of the Old World.
Keep scrolling for more pictures of the Magic Fountain--I went back Saturday night to see it not in the rain and sit and give my poor tired feet a break!
