My journal from the bus ride there:
**Orange trees ignored in craggy meadows, as if they were weeds in a garden. Other scruffy trees with the beginnings of flowers- white, purple, yellow, muted colors. Some trees get in line following small creeks that undoubtedly widen where I see a village in the distance. Mountains cone out of the landscape, small white dots for houses are sprinkled in clusters. The mountains remind me of those in New Mexico but smaller. They are out of nowhere and covered in what looks like sage. But this is a completely different part of the world and these mountains are on a completely different set of tectonic plates, related like puzzle pieces. There are small stone buildings near each of the towns, churches perhaps. A man on a motorcycle is riding along the ”frontage road” of the highway, a hilly dirt road leading into the mountains. Mountains are to the left of me and large green agriculture fields are to the right. What are those isolated stone huts in the center of the fields? They look ancient. A steep and small cliff wall acts as the fourth side to a wooden fence; black and white cows are the residents. There is a small herd of sheep going somewhere along a side road. Some stray to eat leaves off orange trees. Then out of nowhere- the blue, blue sea. Mountains seemed to unveil it like a stage at the beginning of a show. Sparkling waters show themselves occasionally, each time a shocking reminder that I am bumping along the Mediterranean, the ancient center of human activity. I can hardly believe I am going to Barcelona, the quote unquote coolest city in the world.**
I need more time there. Only one full day was a joke, a cruel tease! I feel like I barely dipped my pinkie toe in and I want to be at least waist deep. The main difference of Barcelona to Valencia is the amount of people. At five o’clock in the evening in Valencia there is a good handful of people out, but many of the stores are closed and people are returning to work from siesta. At five o’clock the streets of Barcelona are packed. People everywhere, down every side street, and all going somewhere. Our hotel was right in the main plaza of the city, which probably had a lot to do with it, but there was a strikingly large amount of people out and about. The hotel we stayed in was nice. Really nice. My friend Mary Claire somehow ended up with a really swank room on the highest floor by herself. Ashley and I quickly moved our things into her room. The view! Wow. I felt like a rock star waking up the next day with our windows open to early morning Barcelona outside. Friday night we all ate dinner together and went to explore a bit of the city. The winding streets around our hotel were hip, restaurants and thrift stores and bars and nice jewelry stores. We met a friend of a guy in our program who is currently studying in Barcelona and he showed us around a bit.
The next morning at ten we had a bus tour of the city. The streets are so beautiful. The buildings are so intricate and big and old and the iron work is grand. I wanted to explore each street we crossed over. We stopped at Tibidado, the mountain that looks over the city. Our view of Barcelona was capped by fog. It was kind of haunted looking with mountains looming in the distance and the delicate city below. I was thinking about how many generations of people had come to this city to work, to fish, to trade, to raise a family, to explore, to discover, to meet people, to travel. Humans from all ages of time, even from before our own species, have been drawn to this location. It makes me feel SO SMALL, like a tiny pixel in time.
Next we went to Parque Guell. This park, oh this park! I could have spent ages there. Gaudí was a genius to say the absolute least. My teacher told me he was an introvert, honest and humble, and profoundly religious. He lived minimally and was considered a great man. He must have had the craziest dreams; his works make Dr. Suess illustrations seem plausible. Winding lines, tiled surfaces, unique perspectives, mimicry of nature, but not a nature I have ever seen. It was, for the lack of better words, totally psychedelic. And these things were built almost a hundred years ago. Can you imagine seeing these things one hundred years ago? His visions were so unreal, but they were there in front of me. I want a giant quilt made of all the tiles in the park. Incredible.
Then- La Sagrada Familia. I still feel like that was not real. A massive and intricate and elegant and mind-blowing structure. To think of the relationship Gaudí must have had with his God to have created something like this makes my mind see stars. And it’s not even finished! He died before the project was completed, but he knew that it would never be finished before he died, so he left many plans and drawings. The people who are working on it now know WHAT they are supposed to do, but the cleverest people cannot figure out HOW to do it exactly. The finished product seems light-years away when looking at the plans. The head of the organization in charge of finishing the cathedral has no clue when it will be done. Hopefully in my lifetime. My words cannot begin to describe what I saw and it is daunting task to attempt to do it justice at all. A must-see for all.
That night we all went out for dinner and to test out the infamous night-life of Barcelona. The whole group ended up at Razzmatazz, a discoteca so immense that it has it’s own subway stop. Five separate clubs all attached, each with different music and atmosphere and about 2000 people. So overwhelming! People stay there until 8 in the morning, but after about two hours we had definitely had enough.
Barcelona has a strange feeling about it. Absolutely incredible and lively and beautiful, but completely bizarre. I think it is telling that Gaudí is responsible for the city’s masterpieces, because they can also be described as completely bizarre. Beautiful, but bizarre. It is a port city and we were in the middle of the biggest tourist area, so I did not feel like I was in Spain at all. I did not speak Spanish the whole time. People everywhere and people doing strange things. I was never scared, but taken aback and shocked plenty of times. For me, Barcelona is somewhere incredible to visit, but I don’t think I would want to live there. Valencia has so much to do and see, but it can be calming if you need it to be. Barcelona is seemingly never calm. I would love to return and see the other areas of the city.
Valencia is starting to feel like spring. Rebirth and renewal! Las Fallas officially starts on March 14 (my birthday!), but in reality it started today, the first day of the month of Las Fallas. Plans for this giant festival begin the day after it ends the previous year. Lights have been up for two weeks or so, spanning across every street. Construction in Plaza de la Virgin ended yesterday and I am seeing that plaza properly for the first time. The sky is bluer than I thought possible and the sun shines brightly all day. I heard several people whistling in the street on my way to school this morning. I can already tell there are more people than usual in the city and there is a palpable sense of anticipation for the upcoming festival. Las Fallas is religiously based, but it also celebrates the arrival of spring. The city is changing; I can feel it! It is making me think of spring at home and family and Easter and church and what we would be eating after church and what dress Scottie will be wearing and it makes me miss home a bit. I got a package today from Ann and I am utterly thrilled! A pillow and CHEEZ-ITS and candy and vitamins and boots! Wow!
All is beautiful in Valencia and I feel whole and happy and blessed.