Dreams of Barcelona

Right now, the only new things in my own life are trips to the mechanic, job hunting, excursions to find good packing boxes, and new rolls of duct tape. As I sit at my apartment and strategize how to fit all of my worldly possessions in one 1998 Toyota Camry, or at the mechanic's shop wondering how it is possible for such a small mechanical part to cost so much money, my sister is exploring the streets of Barcelona.

For obvious reasons, I have decided to write a post in honor of my sister’s much more glamorous life.

Street in the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona

Barcelona.

I think of that city and immediately see visions of Moorish architecture and pitchers of sangria. Paella and cobble stoned streets and bullfighters and dark eyed women in flamenco dresses.

My only personal experience with Spain was when I made her acquaintance on a brief weekend jaunt with my friend Margot years ago. One morning we awoke inexplicably bored with the quiet streets of Bordeaux, and decided there was nothing to do but jump on a train and head south. We didn’t make it to Barcelona (or even Madrid) and instead spent a weekend exploring a small town near San Sebastian in Northern Spain.

San Sebastian

We arrived late in the night, hungry for food and conversation. We dropped our bags off at a hostel, and then happened upon a small restaurant that had stayed open late so that the owners could watch a game of futbol. With a clumsily constructed mishmash of French, Spanish, and English, we made friends with the owners and watched soccer and laughed and drank sangria, then ran to the ocean and jumped into its warm waters (just to say that we did) before returning to our rooms to fall into bed happy and exhausted, dreaming of what the next day might bring two bright-eyed, happy-hearted friends.

No, I’ve never been to Barcelona and can rely only on my imagination (and stories from my sister) to piece together a description of a city that I imagine is old and young and full of romance and stories.

La Boqueria in Barcelona

In my imagination, Barcelona is full of artists and poets and people with curious hearts that are eager to learn.

In my imagination, Barcelona’s streets are charmingly crowded with buildings close together. Lace curtains trail out of the windows, and plants grow in pots on rooftop gardens.

In my imagination, you go to Barcelona to fall in love and dance with strangers and make new friends that you recognize immediately as kindred spirits but may never see again.

In my imagination, once you go to Barcelona, you never want to come home again, but when you do return, you’re left wondering if that magical city was just a daydreamed fancy.

One of these days I will go and find out for myself if what I imagine Barcelona to be is near to the reality of the city.


But until then, I will continue to dream the city up in my mind, all bright and beautiful.