Or we could simply pack our bags and catch a plane to Barcelona cuz this city's a drag.

I never know how to begin these entries. Especially this one, about Barcelona. Well, I suppose first it's necessary to understand my deep love for cities. I love all cities, I love neighborhoods in cities, I love cafés in cities, I love the initial feeling of anonymity, and the ensuing grasp of identity once you have found your niche, your stores, your coffee shop, your friends. I love cities. I want to live in a city for as long as possible. Until someone pulls me away from them, kicking and screaming to a nursing home.

When we arrived in Girona, exhausted, we climbed onto a bus to the city, and something in me woke up. We drove through the countryside and eyes locked on our windows, Jen and I again marveled at the fact that at night, everything looks the same, looks like home, looks like familiar places and things. That building could be the law offices off of I-94 by Brookfield, that neighborhood could be in San Francisco. As we got closer, I ached to hear 'Holiday in Spain' by the Counting Crows, to understand the pull of the city that we were staying in for only 2 days. When we finally got to the bus station in Barcelona, everyone seemed to be cranky, hungry, and altogether done for the day.

But I wasn't. I saw wide streets (!!), I saw big buildings, new and old, I saw the hustle and bustle of a big city, a big city, the skyline that I had seen from the road from Girona was up close and literally felt personal, and I loved it. Not warm, but not as cold as Florence, it felt like the world was at my feet. It was my first European adventure by plane, and though it hadn't gone off without a hitch (ie: late plane, turbulence, an unexpected €21 for a bus ride, and then no idea where our hostal was or where we were), I was too excited to care.

Ultimately we found Hostal Central - a fantastic hostal, where Mandy, Nathan and I shared a room with bunk beds, a double bed, a shower, and an indoor sitting area that overlooked the city (pictures to come, once i figure out how to do such fancy things). Our first meal makes my mouth water just thinking about it. We got 2 pitchers of Sangria, 2 appetizers and our own meals - for about €10 each.

Friday morning we ate in our hostal - free breakfast of 3 pastries, and all-you-can drink coffee - REAL coffee, in CUPS. Needless to say, we did drink all we could throughout our stay. Walking outside into the bright Barcelona sunshine, walking down the busy streets, in a city that felt so incredibly international - everyone spoke catalana and spanish, with buildings old and new, with architecture that took my breath away, parks where old spanish men and women fed pigeons, I felt immediately at home.

It's how I felt after I visited Boston the first time. I could picture myself there. And it was, and now is again, a picture that is vivid, hopeful, and full of the limitless of potential of the life I still have to live. Park Guell was beautiful, La Sagrada Familia cathedral, began by Goya who died in 1936 (i think?) too enormous in size and intricacies to describe well, even the graffitti was amazing. The city was clean, the streets alive with markets and the Mediterranean Sea settled peacefully on the other end of Las Ramblas. All of which could be seen from the tip top of Park Guell. A view that I would not mind being able to see every day.

The food was exquisite. Sad to recall that guacamole is mexican cuisine, but happy to eat paella, fruit, and tapas. Actually, one of the best meals I had was a falafel pita. And I secretly was ecstatic to see Starbucks (yes, even in Barcelona, on almost every corner) and Subway. Jen and I, after discovering we could do Barcelona really cheap, quickly realized that it was better to spend a little bit more to eat more frequently (the food was way too good to not want to eat constantly), and thoroughly enjoy our time in a place that I could probably accurately claim is my favorite city in Europe right now, and still not be mistaken later on in this semester.

Friday night we went to Opium - Barcelona's most popular dance club in a city that is known for its clubs. We danced all night, we talked all night, we laughed all night, making it to our hostal no earlier than 6am, and staying up no later than 7am. It was the perfect ending to a trip that defied my expectations, and completely swept me off my feet.

I realize how silly it sounds to say that I fell in love with a city. To say that I found a place that could potentially be my home on the other side of the world. But that's how it felt. It felt like falling in love, like finding home.

I was sad to come back to Florence. I feel like a traitor saying that I like Barcelona more than Florence. But it's a very different love, and they are such different cities that it seems impossible to even begin to compare them. Florence, a place I love with all my heart. Florence is an old city though. It is ancient, and that is why I love it, for an entirely different reason than my love for Barcelona. But it was Valentine's Day without Micah, it was cold when we got home, there had been some drama the last few days, and I was extremely sick. An appropriate bodily response to the deep ache I felt missing Micah especially in Barcelona, and then the sadness I felt upon leaving my new favorite city.

So our spring break plans have changed. We are going to Ibiza, Spain. Back to Spain. Smaller than Barcelona, an island south of the mainland, with clubs and white sand beaches and a price thats a helluva lot lower than our Greece spring break would have been.


I have to go home now. My afternoon class was cancelled, and I want to cook a good meal and get some rest, so I'm not sick for very long.

Here's to traveling though. To experiencing an entirely new and different culture every week. To acclamating yourself to that change. To not being exhausted by it, but energized. Here's to the world as one grand culture, one grand community. Here's to finally understanding that.

Cheers
Sara