(#6) Barcelona: the City and the Dream

I don't think I slept that night. If there's one thing that college can mess up, other than the checking amount in your bank account, it's your sleep schedule. My friends and I had finished a really late night poker game, that finished at a time that wasn't even worth batting an eyelash for. But these are the college nights, right? All I knew was that in the next few hours, I'd be on a bus bound for Barcelona, the city by the sea. In comparative conversations, I had often heard that Barcelona's sights and streets were even better than the ones in Madrid (we're talking about better than the capital of Spain here, people). Expectations were high, but energy levels were low. By the time 9:30 am sluggishly crawled up, our trip to Barcelona was underway.

Within the first few minutes on the highway, as John Mayer's Born and Raised album played through my earbuds, my heavy eyelids finally fell fast asleep as Valencia's coastal scenery faded to black.

When I woke up, I could have sworn the sequence of sceneries that I woke up to was still part of my dream. The bus glided down the cornerless streets, where the buildings stood back to back, decorated with mosaic tiles. People walked on the center dividers of every street which were big enough to fit vendor stands and plenty of walking space. It was a short drive to our hotel, where I long awaited to get acquainted with the bed.

After a well needed nap, we got to exploring. Our first stop was Park Guell, which was built by Antoni Gaudi, a famous architect in Barcelona. Being in an elevated area of the city, brisk breezes caressed our faces and gently tugged our hair as we took in Gaudi's architectural playground. The benches, walls, buildings and statues were, of course, decorated and animated by his signature mosaic motif– the same ones that I had seen around the city on the way in. That's when the thought came to me: Barcelona belonged to Gaudi, and Gaudi belonged to Barcelona.

There's a general truth that not many people will openly admit to others: after seeing 8 months' worth of European cathedrals, basilicas, and churches, their differences start to fade in homogeneity. In other words, they all start to look the same. However, what we saw in the Sagrada Familia was unlike anything I have ever seen in my life.

When I walked through the whimsical willows of the cathedral entrance, I was immediately taken aback. Was I still dreaming? The inside of the Sagrada Familia was a room of natural light created by stain-glass windows that danced on the forest of tree-like columns. It was a scene of pastoral, man-made beauty. The soft blues hues cooled the left side of the church while the bright, warm reds and oranges gave a celestial glow to the right half. Symbols infiltrated every crevice of the gargantuan structure, and through the windows, its austerity gleamed through the sun rays of the Barcelona sun.

It had been a long, but worthwhile tour, after which I came home to sleep a little while longer.

After waking up and changing some plans, I decided that being in the city of one of the world's best soccer teams, I should go see check out their battlefield. Being from Los Angeles, I knew that public transportation was the way to go. However, Barça's system was a little more confusing (and longer) than I expected. Connecting platforms took 5 to 10 minutes to get through, instead of a short 2 minute walk. But I digress.

When we got to Camp Nou, I was breath taken by its sheer size and design. Unfortunately by the time we got there, we had just missed the last stadium tour.  But I wasn't about to let that stop me from seeing the stadium up close. We walked up to the stadium, where a beautiful ceremony commemorating Johan Cruyff (a late Barcelona football player) was being held. Colorful bouquets spelled his names and many fans were there to pay their respects. This is the way that Soccer is in Spain. The sport is revered and honored, and the players are respected and cherished. Though we didn't know who he was, we grabbed a drink right outside the stadium entrance and toasted to Johan's career and life. For life is like a dream: we were are placed under the illusion that years have passed, but in reality, when we wake up, we're only wishing for the few extra minutes of peace and tranquility.

'Til our roads meet,
Christian Camacho
The Traveling 'Nole

P.S. I helped my friend Nahee with a Cheetah Girls video that she wanted to do while we were in Barcelona. Click here to see the video!