I can’t even begin to recap everything we did in Barcelona. Every day was literally full of so much activity, so many sights, and such excitement that it’s all kind of a blur in my mind. Fortunately, I had already experienced the shell-shock that accompanies your first visit to Barcelona two years ago, so I was able to take a step back this time and really appreciate things. I could listen to the tour guide explain the concepts of Gaudí’s Casa Batlló. I could sit and appreciate Picasso’s interpretation of Las Meninas. I got over the ultra-touristy La Rambla after our first day. Unlike my first trip, I could tuck facts and info away in the pre-existing Barça compartments of my mind and actually comprehend what was going on around me.
That said, one thing that will never lose its powers of humbling even the most cultured men is the Sagrada Familia. The outside, while a little more complete than last time, still looks like Gaudí gathered up everything he had ever thought about, swallowed it, and then threw it up in the form of a building. The mixture of Gothic towers with arab tile work and mocárabe arches literally make it look like a child’s drippy castle. To me it’s fantastic. But the real treasure lies inside. Upon first walking in the door – as much this time as the last – I was immediately struck with awe. Designed by Gaudí to resemble a forest of stone, your eyes are immediately drawn up the central nave to what literally appears to be a canopy of rock. Light pours in through a mixture of translucent and stained glass windows, filtering ever so gently through the forest of columns, making it feel as though you are walking through the woods. The colors, the shapes, then angles, the light, everything is just so much more continuous and precise than Gaudí’s other works. I don’t think I could ever fall out of love with the Sagrada Familia.
In terms of night life, everything they say in Barcelona is true. The city is bumping twenty-four seven. The first night, we were all still a little too exhausted from Salmonella Salamanca to go out, but the next night we managed to find our way pretty well, although nothing really seemed to pan out. Given the shear amount of foreigners and students in Barcelona, we were almost from the start pointed in the direction of La Ovella Negra (The Black Sheep), a bar where young people from all over congregate. The first time we went, the four girls in front of us in line were being incredibly annoying. They barely spoke Catalán, Spanish, or English, and whenever the guy opened the door they would try to slip in, despite being blocked out every time. Eventually, the bouncer just closed the door and said “We’re closed. Go away.” The next night however, we made it in without a hitch. Inside, the Black Sheep is lined with long, Harry Potter style wooden tables, and you can buy what looks like the kind of jug a lemonade stand would have full of beer or sangria. Needless to say it was a rowdy place. Most of the the clubs, however, are down by the beach, so eventually we made our way down to Opium – supposedly one of the best clubs in Madrid. But they wouldn’t let us in. The bouncer said you had to be 23, but I’m sure after 2 or so they only let in Barcelona’s finest. Given our restricted luggage space, we didn’t exactly look the part. Instead, we went next door to the reject club, where no one seemed to be dancing at all, and it closed an hour later. Despite all of that, it was still a good time, especially taking a quick dip in the Med and getting caught in the downpour on the way home.
I love Barcelona. It’s a modern, hip, and energetic city. The nightlife is amazing, the sights are amazing, and the food puts Madrid to shame (a nod to the Mediterranean restaurant complete with hummus, felafel, veal, lamb, and hookah). It’s no wonder Barcelona is consistently one of the top places to visit in Europe. But with everything in mind, I would leave it at that: a place to visit. The city itself is overrun with tourists and no matter how hard you try to speak castellano, most people will just talk to you in English. Fittingly, most of the attractions are touristy in nature, and there didn’t seem to be much to do besides site-see and party. In my opinion, living or studying there would get old fast. Madrid, however, exhibits much more of the Spanish culture – something that has almost been wiped away by Barcelona’s industrial boom. If you get bored, you can always take a quick jaunt down to Retiro to relax or Juan Carlos I to take advantage of the free bike rentals. While Sol is pretty touristy, the streets of La Latina, Malasaña, or Huertas are so typically Madrid that you’ll forget Sol even exists. All in all, Madrid is just seems more real, like a place where people actually live, not just a destination. When we got back from the airport, and I walked up the stairs of Francos Rodríguez, I felt as though I were coming home. While Barcelona was amazing, I’m glad to be back in Madrid…at least until I leave for Berlin tomorrow.
Memoirs of a Yankee 