To pick up the story again:
Kevin came to Paris on Monday, and we spent a few days wandering together before flying down to Barcelona for the last four days of Spring Break.
From Park Guell, on top of a hill above the city:
I was expecting my Spanish to emerge from its cramped dormant state (after 6 years of cultuvation, only to be put away and supplanted with Italian!) but in Barcelona everyone's speaking Catalan so I never knew what the hell was going on anyway. The Catalan dialect seemed as different from Spanish as Italian. But I was still able to sort out enough Spanish to get by.
Some interesting Catalan words:
- "with" (Spanish: "con," Catalan: "amb")
- "only" (Spanish: "solo," Catalan: "suelto")
- "beach" (Spanish: "playa," Catalan: "platja")
- "milk" (Spanish: "leche," Catalan: "llet")
It was 70-75 degrees the whole time. Maybe half a dozen clouds in the sky for the whole weekend. It was an unreal place, more relaxed than Florence and Paris, but not immediately similar to the southern Spain I lived in during high school. The hostel was fabulous. It's called the Sant Jordi Diagonal - centrally located and very homey. Recommended. A good place to finish "The English Patient," also recommended.
It took us an hour or so of walking (down the central street Passeig de Gracia and then down La Rambla, the big pedestrian street) to find older Barcelona. The Barri Gotic neighborhood is small and thick in ways unlike the rest of the sprawl, and the Barceloneta neighborhood by the water is charming low-key residential. This, and also several Starbucks downtown (dare I sound excited?) offering the simple pleasure, unheard of in Italy, of walking with a hot drink.
Parc Guell, a tiny portion of which is pictured above, is Gaudi's grand architectural and landscaping project on the hill near Vallcarca, and it was fun to climb up to see the view with Kevin. We had an easy few days together, eating tapas when we could (although this gets expensive for small-time travelers like us) and checking out the young life. In the parks, lots of guitars, drums, martial arts and capoeira, and more juggling than I imagine I'd see in Italy all spring.
Paris felt like traveling. Barcelona felt like a vacation.
Much of the beach area was under construction, but can you really complain?? It was a really fun place: the sunny ease of southern California combined with the old-world compactness and the deeper histories of Europe.
Can't say the week was especially relaxing, though. I think it took us all by surprise how much we enjoyed coming back to something familiar. Where's the fun sensation of traveling, after all, if you're not departing from somewhere meaningful? The whole story of travel is always, in some form, about the return as well.
See you soon (especially Dad and Libby - so excited),
Love, Hunter.
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