Barcelona (in pictures, naturally)

I've been to Barcelona twice now.  The first time was five years ago, and I thought it was beautiful.  However, that was at the height of both American-hating and Catalunyans-hating-Spain time.  And everyone basically just yelled at me for four days whenever I spoke English or Spanish, which was all I spoke!  So, yes, I thought Barcelona was beautiful.  But I hated it.  So I was a little reluctant to head back, but I am so glad that I did.

So the first weekend of December was the long puente (long long weekend) and I decided to head to Barcelona with some friends.  I had my staff Christmas party on Friday night (which was a huge deal and should hopefully get its own post sometime soon) so I headed to Barcelona on Saturday on the overnight bus.  Arriving to Barcelona in the early morning, still dark, I found my way to our hostel and dropped off my stuff, heading out to wander the city.  One of the things that most struck me was that I did the same thing a little over five years ago, and I was so nervous and confused and, frankly, scared to be arriving to a city in the dark.  This time I got a coffee, strolled over the metro, and confidently found my hostel.  What a difference five years makes.

I visited Plaza de Catalunya (pictured above) and the nearby Cathedral.

I got another coffee near the cathedral.  I think I may have a coffee problem.

There was, naturally, lots of cool street art.  You have to love Dali!

I wandered down the coast, played in the sand for a little bit, and got menaced by a giant lobster.

Lion statues in the plaza de Colon/Columbus.  Someday I'm going to print out all my pictures of various Lion statues from all over Europe and make a huge collage and stick it above my couch.

So I met up with my friends and took a nap in the afternoon.  That evening I went for a walk, hoping to visit the Sagrada Familia, and got horribly lost.  This was a bit stressful, but I eventually found my way back to the hostel and we got dinner.

And we also got some drinks.  All things should be served flaming, I think.

Carissa, Juliet(i), Jessica, Katie, and me.  I love them.

The next morning most people slept in, but Katie and I got up early and rented bikes.  We went out to the beach and then up and down the coast.

Katie went in the water with some crazy Russian dudes who were swimming around, but I was wearing tights so I opted out.  The coast was beautiful though, and we biked around for hours.  I could have burst into either hysterical laughter or tears, so happy was I to be back on a bike, warm wind blowing my hair and a bit of a gross sweat line developing under the strap of my bag.  Tiffany, baby (my old bike), I miss you so!

We found a cool park.

Then we biked up the hill to the Sagrada Familia.  I didn't go in this time, but it continues to be amazingly unique and beautiful.  This church is one of those things that I just look at, and tears spring to my eyes.  That man could make such a thing is incredible.  That such a thing could exist is incredible.  As Gaudi himself said, "man does not create, he only discovers."

Also a very nice man held up the flow of people so that I could get a picture with the church!

After lunch, we struggled (well, I struggled, Katie breezed in her freaky athletic-naturedness) up the hill to Park Guell.  Gaudi gaudi gaudi.  So beautiful, with musicians playing everywhere and the setting sun only helping the ambiance.

Tile work in the park.  We also climbed up to the highest point of the city and enjoyed the hazy and therefore poorly photographable but lovely nonetheless views.  Then we enjoyed the fruits of our labor up the hill and FLEW down the streets of Barcelona on their incredible bike lanes, my hair horizontal, my heart in my throat, and giddy noises escaping my mouth.

 We went out that night.  It was a more chill evening.  We did, however, buy Jessica a drink called the Monica Lewinsky.  Am I going to describe it here on my PG-13 rated blog?  Ask that little fellow up there.

Katie and I again woke up early, and headed to the market for breakfast.  We got pizza, and mine had hot dogs in it.  You would have thought we magically got transported to central Europe.

After breakfasts and some train mishaps, we headed out of town to Montserrat, where we met some friends of Katie's and headed up the mountain.  Montserrat, meaning serrated mountain, is a spiritual home of the Catalunyan people and is said to have been carved by tiny angels with golden saws.  We took the cog-wheel railway (or zipper, in Spanish) up to the top.

At the top there is, naturally, a monastery.  And to tell the truth, I think being a monk up here is a bit like cheating.  You look out the window, and of course you see God.

The monastery was beautiful, but it was definitely not the main draw.

The main draw, of course, would be the views.

We took the incredibly long funicular to the top of the mountain and played on the summit a bit.  I kept gasping and saying "amazing" and "epic."

Because really, amazing and epic are about all that cover it, right?

Self-portrait!  Oh, shock!

This cat was just sitting there, being chill and ignoring us while providing for some great photo ops.

And then we hiked down the mountain, caught the "zipper" back to town, caught the train back to Barcelona, and caught the bus back to Madrid.  And the girl who thought Barcelona was "pretty, but not my favorite city" was left enchanted, in love, and wanting to go back.  You win, Catalunya.  You win indeed.