So, basically, today was just another ordinary day on this extraordinary adventure that is my life. Honestly, I’ve dreamed of coming to Europe for years now, and all of a sudden I realize that I have already spent 50 days here! When did that happen?
Ashlee and I had plenty of time today to contemplate the wonderful lives we lead and the incredible chance we’re having to live our dreams of visiting far-off lands and seeing how real life compares to the creations of our imaginations. Okay, so I might be embellishing the point a bit, but after we checked out of our hostel today and headed into Barcelone-même, we had a good seven or eight hours before our night train to Granada. Yeah, plenty of time to wander around, eat some genuine Spanish paella (!), sit au bord de la Mer Méditeranée (on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea) and discuss our incredible lives both in the sense of being here and in the sense of our linguistics education at BYU, and eat some divine gelato. (Mine was hazelnut aka Nutella and dulce de leche.)
Not only was it relaxing and refreshing to simply sit and enjoy the beautiful weather and gentle breeze off the sea, but it has also been refreshing how wonderfully considerate the Spaniards here are! For example, when Ashlee and I wandered to the sea, away from our hostel, and then needed help to find our way back, the old man and woman we interrupted had no complaints about cheerfully answering our questions. And just today, not one, not two, but THREE Spaniards came up to us to see how they could help us find our way. The first one, an older woman with an even more elderly woman, even walked a ways with us, explaining some sites along the way, such as where an open market and an artists’ market are held twice a week and what the name of a certain cathedral was and that it’s common for them to be named after trees. Later, it was an old man who approached us, not for cigarettes or money or anything inappropriate as I came to expect from strangers in Paris, but to offer us guidance, pointing out the Plaza Catalunya in one direction and the sea in another. With those first two, it probably helped that I was lugging my giant suitcase around and we looked lost—mostly because we were looking to know where we were and needed to decide what to do next with our free time—but the last one was a younger guy at the train station who saw us sitting on the edge of a staircase railing for a lack of benches, eating popcorn. He works there, so as he drew closer, I was worried he’d ask us to move, but then he surprised me by simply asking us how we needed help! Sure, it’s his job to give info, but he was so sweet and considerate, approaching many travelers to give them information when others might have just contented themselves with merely standing around, waiting for travelers to approach them at their own free will.
Spaniards are happier, I’ve decided, and nicer than I expected them to be with Americans such as us. And I’m absolutely delighted to be here on their turf. But I am quite glad to have left Barcelona and be on my way to Granada. After all, we ran out of things to do and are more interested in our next stop. ;) Here are a couple pics we took on our way out of the camping grounds in Vilanova, outside Barcelona:
You are a cute matadora!
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