Oh Barcelona, I'm Coming Back to You Soon

I hemmed and hawed and twisted in every imaginable direction to squirm my way out of it. All to no avail. Elly wanted to go to Barcelona last weekend, and, try though I might, I simply could not talk her out of it. Looking at it from this side of the trip, I don't know why I struggled so much. Barcelona has captured my imagination; it was enchanting and I can't wait to return.

Back to why I'm being such a hater lately. You may be wondering, "Jenny, not up for a fabulous adventure to a new city with her favorite traveling companion? That's so unlike her...I wonder if the smelly goat cheese is affecting her sanity?" And you'd be right! I have been uncharacteristically square lately...timid...conservative...even downright boring. Maybe it's the cold pasta at every meal, perhaps I'm finally feeling homesick or maybe I just need to get my act together. I don't know why, but I've been a real pain in the ass as of late. So when Elly suggested that we go to Barcelona, it actually took her four days (as opposed to four minutes) to convince me. The final showdown happened on Friday night when I was being so mopey that even I wanted a break from myself. Elly, being the best friend a girl could have, handed me a glass of wine, instructed me to down it in one gulp, and then dragged me into the pool with my clothes on. After that, I relented and we went to Barcelona the next morning.

From Narbonne, it was a very short train ride into Spain and so beautiful! We slid past wetlands with flamingos and pretty marshes and along the most gorgeous stretch of coast that I'd seen in a long time. (Don't be jealous, California...you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.) When we arrived in Barcelona, it was warm, dry and so perfectly sunny. We took our time walking from the train station to our hotel, a warm little stroll in the afternoon past shops selling either high-end ham or high-end handbags....both tempting. We'd found a real steal on a room right in the happening part of town. The little boutique hotel had a tiny rooftop pool (more like a large bathtub), so we changed into our suits and took a bottle of cava up to sit in the sun. All that sunshine and bubbly transformed me back into my adventurous self.

The city is strange and lovely. We had so little time in this charming place, but I saw just enough to wet my palate and tempt me back for more adventures. On the high hill overlooking Barcelona is small amusement park called the Tibidabo with rollercoasters, bumper cars, cotton candy and hot dogs. You reach it by taking first a trolley car then a funicular. All this wholesome fun is juxtaposed by the church right next to it on the hilltop, the beautiful Temple de Sagrat Cor. We also got a glance of a few of the Gaudi buildings. The Sagrada Familia was so beautiful, I could not stop looking at it. It is still under construction, but you could see the spires and towers rising up so ridiculously high, the figures and statues bending down and up in the most evocative lines. The building is continually under construction, with scaffolding and piles of construction materials lying around. It was like seeing a sculpture half-done. Walking around and seeing all the beautiful buildings was by far my favorite part of the trip. The streets are wide with tree-lined walkways in the middle of the boulevards, broad buildings on either side with neat balconies and beautifully carved doorways. The whole town feels big and open and warm. Every now and again the traditional, solid architecture was interrupted by a gothic or art nouveau building. I could have wandered around the streets and parks and squares with pretty fountains for a whole other week.

In anticipation of our somber journey back to Le Bouquet, it was gray and very rainy when we awoke on Sunday morning. We came back to La Caunette by train, a little damp from the walk to the station and a little less than enthused to return to our smelly goat dwelling after having spent the weekend in such a beautiful city. Sometimes when I'm milking and wrestling the thorn bushes away from the goat fences, I'm inclined to forget that I'm in France for the summer with one of my favorite people in the world learning how to make cheese because it makes me happy. Going to Barcelona was just the thing to screw my head back on straight and make me focus on where my feet are for this brief moment in my life: beautiful Europe.