Reecuentro en Barcelona

Hola!

As per usual I am quite short on time but I wanted to reflect on my trip to Barcelona before the memory of the “super buena onda” fades away….

Here’s how it begins: my friend, Regina, who I met during study abroad in Chile (she was one of David’s roommates), is from a small town outside of Barcelona, Santpedor (coincidentally, and amazingly, the home town of Barça coach, Pep Guardiola, but more on that later).

Thankfully, I’ve had the chance to see her a few times this year in Pamplona but I’ve been meaning to pay her a visit over in Catalunya for quite some time. But, as is typical of me, I was putting it off. That is, until someone lit a fire under me to get a move on. Another very good friend of mine from study abroad was one of my roommates there, Amélie, from France. She returned home the same time as I did, only to turn around and go back to Chile six months later, and stay for an entire year. She just got back to France a few weeks ago and was planning on visiting Barcelona with a Chilean friend who is currently backpacking through Europe. Holy cow, I was finally going to get to see her. Thus commenced our mega weekend plans. Some other ex-study abroad in Chile folk from Pamplona were going to be in Barcelona by chance, and one of the Chile-Barcelona girls was planning a massive party at the country house where she lives with her boyfriend and 3 or 4 other raging hippies. Needless to say, my time in Catalunya was quite remarkable. After catching a flight from Madrid I met up with the aformentioned Pamplona-Chile people to stay in the house of one of the Chile-Barcelona girls, Anna.

We had a great time that night seeing downtown Barcelona, eating at a Japanese restaurant (there are NO sushi restaurants in Valladolid—I had a major craving!) and visiting the bar of one such Manu-Chao, a super famous rock-fusion artist who I LOVE and happens to have opened a not so well known bar in Barcelona. We stayed up way too late playing guitar and giggling in Anna’s super hippie apartment, which is behind a soap store in the very bohemian neighborhood of La Gracia.

The next day we got up early to pack up Anna’s car for our trip the countryside rave and to go out for a typical catalá breakfast: massive “tostadas” on “pan tumaca.”

We spent the day seeing the most famous attractions of Barcelona, including Gaudí’s Park Güell, and his famous church, “La Sagrada Familia.”

In most of Spain, Friday was a holiday, so there was an absolute mountain of people, but I was so content that it didn’t even bother me. I mean, it’s GAUDI. When we walked up to the Sagrada Familia, I literally gasped. Gaudí had a style that has yet to be duplicated, and I don’t think it ever will be exactly. Which is why, when he was tragically killed in a traffic accident, the church he was working on was left unfinished. Now that the architectural technology has advanced to catch up to his avant-garde vision, they’ve started to pick up where Gaudí left off, still holding true to his style.

After a busy morning of sight-seeing we headed to the main square in Barcelona, the Plaza de Catalunya, and planted ourselves right in the middle so Amélie wouldn’t miss us when she arrived at our agreed upon meeting place.

Between Las Ramblas (the main pedestrian street) and Plaza de Catalunya, there is so much life, so much hustle and bustle, you almost get swept up in the people: tourists, people on bikes, people heading to work, going home, juggling, playing fútbol, selling various and assorted items (everything from newspapers to pet birds). When we finally saw Amélie through the masses it was like that one sports song whose name escapes me was playing in slow motion. I stood up and went running toward her like a crazy person. We all hugged and greeted her and then set off the have lunch (Spanish lunch, so an early dinner) together, as if not a day had passed. It was just like seeing Marta after three and a half years. That’s the good thing about friends, everything changes and yet it all stays the same.

We had another delicious ethnic meal—Indian food, which I also miss dearly, —and headed to the train station to take the Cercanías line to María’s village. The party that María and her roommates and friends set up out there in country was truly something else. First of all, her house is beautiful, isolated in the mountains of Catalunya. They even have pet baby goats who are as friendly as puppies. Also, the weather was perfect so we ate and drank and danced and later slept outside. It was a night full of reminiscing and nostalgia, but at the same time, with the air of a new life chapter, the one of [an international] life after Chile.

The morning after the party, Amélie and I, as well as two other friends, got up early and went for a hike through the woods. We sat down on some rocks in the middle of the mountain mist for one less reminiscing session and then it was time to go. I said goodbye to everyone, save Regina, and set off for Santpedor. It was so cool to get to see where Regina was from and to meet her parents. They are so funny and nice, which showed in their awkward effort to only speak Spanish among one another in my presence, instead of Catalan. We watched the Barça vs. Zaragoza soccer game with them and laughed a lot.

They are all super fans, but Regina is the most vocal, while her Dad is super calm. She shouts "goooooooooool!!!" just like the announcers, while in contrast he mutters a satisfied, "gol." Since I am now totally hooked on Spanish soccer (it's almost impossible not to be) it was also neat to see the house where Guardiola was born and listen to Regina's parents talk about him like he's an old friend, which I suppose, in their case, he is.

Another great event of the day was getting to see yet an other good friend from Chile, Alba, who lives in the nearby town of Manresa. She and I had a few classes together in Santiago and we always hung out with David and the gang. Just like with Regina I was lucky enough to see her in Pamplona this year, but there is nothing like seeing old friends. We had a great time chatting at a local café/bar (probably the thing I will miss most about Spain—the abundance of these establishments), again everyone trying to speak Spanish with me. Then back to Santpedor for a sleepover with Regina and up and at 'em early the next day to combat rush hour traffic to the airport.

Barcelona, and what I saw of the surrounding Catalunya, has such a good vibe. That’s the only way I can think of to describe it. I am certain that seeing long lost friends as well as a city and its sights that I’ve dreamed of seeing for years all in a few days, had something to do with that, and the swell of emotion I felt while I was there. Either way, I left flying, literally and figuratively.