Its waking up from the daylight filling the room with insanely high ceilings. Its walking out to the balcony and looking at the silhouette of a mountain on the right, while being still wrapped up in your bed cover. Its making breakfast while planning out the day ahead.
Its the vague planning, you only need a general idea of which direction you’re headed to. You don’t have to see everything tripadvisor suggests. You don’t have to go to museums. In fact the entire city is the open-air museum, what can be better than that?
Its daytime drinking. Its giant pans of paella. Its roasted chestnuts.
Its street performers. Contrabass. Music blending with people’s chatter and sounds of a big city. Its all the languages you could possibly imagine at once. And then you get to the point when you can differentiate the languages. Oh hey, that sounded french. And dammit, here’s german. Oh, Bulgarian. Polish. Chech. Italian. Portuguese. And oh, do you think that was chinese or korean? Never mind, we’ll never know.
Its all the colors that a human eye can distinguish and black-and-whiteness at the same time. blanco v negro, they say.
Its pink Christmas trees and the absolute absence of conventional for my Eastern-European upbringing Christmas spirit. No snow either.
Its the azure of Mediterranian sea. Branchy palms and orange trees.
Barcelona is not just a city where Gaudi has built a couple of weird buildings and then architectors followed the lead. Its not just the city, where the beaches were created from imported Egyptian sand specially for 1992 Olympics. Its not just the city where a strange church is being built for already 130 years and that construction does not seem any closer to completion than a decade ago. Its not just the home city of FC Barcelona.
Its the place where Columbus’s monument points not to America, but to an opposite direction. Its an irrational and incomprehensible city, bursting with life and arts. A great place for a visual addict.
to be continued.