Let's begin with a completely unrelated side note:
I love places where you can look up. So often, cities are too busy or too dangerous to remove one's attention from what lies ahead. People to dodge, a purse to protect, traffic lights to heed... though wonderfully exciting, the hustle and bustle can be quite the hindrance. That which exists above is almost always even more wonderful -- balconies, plants, people dining on terraces, the magnificent sky! Granada, to my great delight, is safe enough to the point where I can wander without fearing even a stray pickpocket. Up I can look! For extended periods, at that! Granted, I look more like a foreigner than ever, but having those moments to soak up the city in its entirety is priceless. An example: today was a rainy day indeed for Granada. Even when the precipitation ceased, these fantastically dark, ominous clouds swarmed around the mountains and encircled the city during the afternoon. As the sun was setting, though, the clouds broke, Rachel looked upward, and the sun hit every roof of Granada. What made this moment even more spectacular was the color of this light; typically, the setting sun produces a yellowish, maybe even orange light, but not today. Completely and totally pure white light hit Granada. Woah. You best believe this necessitated a pause, right in the middle of the sidewalk (thankfully I had finished crossing the street). Overwhelming beauty indeed. White light!
In any event, returning to Barcelona...
We left off at the hostel, I suppose. After warming our bellies with coffee (and not pausing for a nap -- that would have been dangerous), my travel buddies and I joined the hostel crew for a walking tour of the city. Perfect! In all the airport madness, we had failed to come up with a plan for day one. Off we went. Within minutes, though, the rain began... incredibly frigid rain. Our group decided to brave it. A little rain is bearable. Wrong. The rain quickly intensified, eventually turning into hail (which, in my opinion, was an improvement! sadly, said hail only lasted a minute or so, but I made the most of it, running about and the like). We continued on, mainly just shuffling through the streets, heads down, occasionally listening to a fact or two from the tour guide. The poor girl, her umbrella kept catching the wind and turning inside out, so eventually she gave up and guided us around in a drenched, shivering state. Major points.
A few sights were enhanced by the dreary weather, such as a church (now elementary school), where children were hidden during the civil war. When Barcelona was under siege, soldiers took the children out of the school and shot them down along the wall. Today, proof of the massacre remains, as gaping dents cover the church's exterior, but lie no higher than the height of a child. The Barcelona government insists that the church was bombed, hence the damage, and the children were not so intentionally killed; the evidence is definitely contradictory. Picture:
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| Hard to deny, no? |
The lack of people and bitter weather afforded us with the perfect opportunity to absorb the somber nature of this place.
One last unhappy story: Barcelona has two patron saints, as one young girl, Eulalia, suffered so greatly that the city has honored her for quite some time. Eulalia, who aged thirteen years, was of the Christian faith when the Romans took over Barcelona. When told to deny her faith, Eulalia refused, which resulted in the Romans torturing her in thirteen different ways. In one instance, she was placed in a barrel of nails and rolled down a steep, narrow alley. Somehow, she survived these acts, and was finally crucified in the presence of every Barcelona citizen. During the crucifixion, it is said that snow began to fall (an extremely rare occurrence), which proceeded to cover Eulalia, signifying her pure nature and innocence. Finally, the Romans decapitated her, and from her neck emerged a dove. In her honor, Barcelona's cathedral always houses thirteen white geese in its garden. Beautiful.
On a lighter note, we passed through a a covered (not quite indoor) market, with fruit juices galore. A color explosion indeed! Rows and rows cups filled the stalls. Fruits and candies, especially gummies (a Spanish favorite) made appearances alongside the juices. Naturally, a cow/pig thigh or two hung from each stall, completing the scene. Also, on our way back to the hostel, we managed to pass by Botero's kitty cat statue (not sure of the official name). Plump as ever, the cat was hard to miss in its plaza. Classic Botero.
Back at the hostel, dinner was ready for consumption. Truthfully, we did choose that particular hostel because of the included dinner; Barcelona would have put a dent in our bank accounts had we bought dinner every night. My goodness, what a perfect idea, having a scheduled hostel dinner (usually it is an open kitchen but a general free-for-all). No one wanted to miss a warm meal, especially one cooked by a true Italian, so two long tables were full of residents from all parts of the world. Such is the beauty of hostels, having the chance to meet and bond with the widest array of people, but sometimes, with solid days of sightseeing and the like, it is hard to cross paths with the other residents. Dinner was perfect in that way, as conversation ran rampant; people shared stories about their daily adventures, homelands, and other travel experiences.
Quick rundown of a few hostel peoples:
The Brits- Four British guys, all from London, were spending the week in Barcelona visiting their friend, who happened to work at the hostel. This guy, the hostel employee, was a champ and a half. A year or so ago, he decided to drop everything and travel around Europe. I cannot remember how many Euros he started off with, but it was not much, and he made it six months hitchhiking about. He camped outside villages in Croatia and stayed in random homes in France. The guy just went and went until the funds ran dry.
Them Japanese kids: Two Japanese guys were finishing up their stay when we arrived. One was in the process of touring Spain to observe all things architectural. He also had a love for photoshop and was proud to show everyone a pretty sweet picture of him and Messi (of FC Barcelona). It really did look like the real deal. The other was a DJ back in Japan and loved doing Gangnam Style. Absolutely and totally priceless. Plus, he did such whilst wearing a fur vest.
The sole German: Katrina, law student, spent most of her time in bed on the computer. Interestingly, she spent a year of high school in Wilmington.
The Brazilians: So many! Every night, more arrived. Most hailed from the south of Brazil, but we had fun talking geography and carnaval.
The owner: Angel was his name. The guy hardly sleeps and knows every club/bar owner in Barcelona. He takes the entire hostel out just about every night and stays out later than everyone else. When he sleeps, its usually on a beanbag chair in the kitchen.
No-name: A very silent guy, who always boasted a smile, always seemed to be working on a mural inside the hostel. It's coming along nicely.
Paulina: Our tour guide/honorary hostel employee. Homegirl is originally from Mexico, but has lived just about everywhere in South America and Europe. I cannot remember exactly how many languages she knows, but we are talking at least seven, including Swedish. She sports short, frizzy tomato firetruck red hair and travels through the hostel on roller skates. She was full of spunk.
The Americans: My goodness, I have never seen so many Americans at a single hostel. They were all pretty easy going, though. Most were studying in London and spending spring break in Spain. Good choice! Too bad Spain adopted London's weather for the week. Bummer.
Sorry. That ended up not being a very quick rundown. Typical.
After dinner, Jillian and I put our sassy pants on... as in, we exchanged our still drenched day wear for slightly less shabby dresses, and went to a place called L'Ovella Negra (The Black Sheep) to meet some friends who are studying in Barcelona. The venue was super cozy, as it was slightly underground and housed a huge fireplace, which was perfect, as the rain had definitely not ceased and we had reverted back to our drenched states. Being our classy selves, we lined our shoes in front of the fire. Next, we joined the hostel crew at a karaoke bar, which looked like a classic Hollywood theatre. The place was packed and the singers were awful. Classic karaoke experience. The Japanese guys and one of the Brazilians sang "Bohemian Rhapsody," which had to be the highlight of everyone's evening. Easily.
Consider this the conclusion of part 2! More to come soon.
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