I did that thing again where I leave my family and fly off to a random city alone.
This time Barcelona.
It had been top of the list for a while but I kept knocking it down, telling myself it’d be better to go to this particular city when I “had more money”.
Then I realised this could take a while. And I’m not particularly patient.
Budget Barcelona … so be it!
My first night in Barcelona involved a heap of paella, a Pina Colada and some new friends.
I returned from dinner to be greeted by a young woman and a tray full of shots in the hostel foyer: “Do you want to party!” She said, smiling yet sincere.
“Er… I don’t know…” I replied, I wasn’t completely against the idea.
Thankfully, I was joined by two other women who took their complimentary shots, but also weren’t sure if they wanted to “party”.
We plonked down at a table with our free sangria and chatted, chuckling at how young the hostel crowd were and dodging the beer pong ball that kept hitting our feet.
They were Francesca and D’arby; my new Barcelona friends.
I spent my first day hopping from one tourist attraction to the next. Casa Batlló, one of Gaudí’s famous masterpieces, the Barcelona Cathedral, and lastly the Moco Museum, where I got my fill of modern art.
Lunch consisted of a modest bagel in a cheerful cafe where I bumped into the family I’d sat next to on the plane. “Small world,” we laughed, as I retreated upstairs.
I wandered through the Gothic Quarter wondering if I was in fact in the Gothic Quarter, which I’d been told was a must.
“If you feel like the walls are closing in on you, you’re in the Gothic Quarter,” Francesca said over drinks that evening. She’d brought D’arby and I to La Cobra, a bar where X-Rays of teeth lined our seating area.
From there we headed to two other slightly more conventional bars, with no X-Rays. It’s fun exploring a new city alone, but it’s a different kind of fun venturing out into the night with newly made friends. I loved it.
I woke mildly hungover but determined to pack as much into my morning as possible. (Perhaps the wrong mindset.) I opted for the beach and the Picasso Museum. Both a joy.
It was after Picasso that I realised my phone’s “unlimited data” was not quite so unlimited and I’d run out. No data, dodgy public Wi-Fi, no Google Maps.
I had foolishly not planned my route to Park Guell so asked a member of museum staff for directions. This asking strangers for guidance and directions quickly became the theme of the afternoon.
I was to find the Metro, then the bus stop, then the right bus, then the right stop…
Then simply follow signs to Park Guell.
Somehow, miraculously, I found the place. It was beautiful and magical and I loved taking photos of the stunning views and elaborate tile work.
Next stop; the Sagrada Família, the largest unfinished Catholic church in the world. It was spectacular. Staring up at the ceiling, I was stunned. I didn’t want to leave.
By the end of the day I’d walked 12.4 miles, most of which were me searching for the Metro.
My last day consisted of a goodbye breakfast with D’arby, a last-minute souvenir shop and an obligatory Sephora purchase for the young tween.
And of course ice cream. It’s not a holiday without ice cream; I managed daily consumption.
Of course, I can’t wait to go back, now that I’ve found my bearings.
Angela blogs at The Colourful Kind
