I don’t know anyone by the name of Cristina, but I’m sure Woody Allen would have appreciated it. Even if I didn’t get into a bizarre love affair with an artist and his crazy ex-wife, Penelope Cruz.
Anyway: our time in Barcelona consisted mostly of free walking tours of Gaudi and the old Gothic quarters, which require a “tip” at the end of the tour depending on how much you enjoyed it. We learned about Barcelon’s patron saint, a thirteen year old girl (Santa Eulalia), Picasso’s absinthe induced rant, and most importantly, Gaudi. He was the genius and madman of Barcelon. His architecture was too avant-garde for his time with the waves of the sea for rooftops and colorful mosaics on the walls.
It’s a shame how he died. During the constructions of La Sagrada Familia, he was run over by a tram and left for dead. When a few people tried to take him to the hospital with a taxi, the taxi driver refused to drive him because he thought he was a homeless man, and he didn’t want blood all over his car. The Sagrada Familia is still in construction, but it’s easily one of the most beautiful wonders I’ve seen in my life.
From the outside, you can see Biblical allegories all over the facades, and all of them are so intricate and detailed. When I went inside, I was instantly blown away. The interior had recently been completed, and it felt like I had just walked into an underwater castle. Triton could have easily claimed it as the seat of his throne.
It reminded me of a modern version of the Duomo in Milan, but I felt a deeper connection to it than I did to the Duomo. As I’ve said numerous times before, traveling is different for everyone. For me, one of the best parts is seeing the art and history that you thought you’d only see in books right in front of you in all of its grandeur. It inspires me to gain more knowledge just so I can explore and see more.
With that being said, I was a little heartbroken when we couldn’t go to the top of the Sagrada Familia. But my heart was easily mended when we went to a nameless Tapas bar for lunch. It was a small hole-in-the-wall place, that was filled with people. You literally had to squeeze your way through, and there were moments where I couldn’t breathe because I was mashed between two people.
Barcelona is also notorious for its pickpocketers. But what’s amazing to me is that everyone knows who the pickpocketers are. When we were getting on the metro, the conductor came out and told everyone to watch their things because there were a few pickpocketers on the ride. And when we were on the tour, one of our tour guides said, “Oh watch out, there’s a group of pickpocketers over there.” If anyone can tell me why they don’t just report them, let me know.
After a long day of sight seeing, we went back to the hostel, where we were provided with free dinner due to the lack of hot water in the shower over the past couple of days. It was a delicious lentil soup with chili. I was sitting across two Australians and one Canadian, who were all fascinated by American politics.
“I heard Donald Trump was running for President,” the Canadian said with a smirk.
“Go Trump!” one of the Australians said sarcastically.
They looked at me and a couple of my friends for a response. I shrugged and continued eating.
“I really like Spain,” the Canadian woman commented, when none of us really responded. “It’s so beautiful here…and it’s not like Mexico. I heard Mexico is, like, a cheap copy of Spain.”
I gaped at her.
“I would pick Mexico over Spain any day,” I snapped, furious that she could compare two completely different countries in such an unfair way.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“California,” I answered, still glaring. The Australians looked between the two of us with great interest.
“Huh, that’s weird,” she said. “I have a cousin from California, and he hates Mexico. I think it’s because of all the immigrants … you know, with the immigrants crossing the border,” she said in a tone of disgust.
“That’s pretty awful of your cousin,” I said, now fuming.
Since being abroad, I had grown exhausted of always trying to defend the States and all of its antics. Yes, we were insane, but which country isn’t at this point? But it’s not like Americans go up to them and say, “Oooh, did you hear about the recent scandal in Australia/Canada/Wherever You Are From?! [Your country] sucks — haha!
The rest of the time, the Australians kept wondering the difference between a tortilla chip and a flour tortilla. One of them kept pronouncing it “tor-til-a” instead of “tor-tee-ya,” and saying “pay-elle-a” instead of “pi-ye-ya.” One of them was a lawyer. I rolled my eyes.
Ignorance is not representative of a country, only of the individual.