Welcome to the eighteenth post of the Great Writing Challenge of 2012.
Five days a week for six months, I will be given a topic to write about. The stipulation: it must be 250 words (or more), and positive in tone.
If you would like to suggest topics for me to write about, please email me at TheRebeccaProject [at] gmail [dot] com.
I fell in love with Barcelona the day I arrived. The city is so vibrant, and so interesting. I could imagine a life for myself there.
We stayed in the old town, just off Las Ramblas, in a former brothel frequently patronised by Picasso. We wound our way through the small lanes, and rarely taking the same route twice.
Having just arrived from frigid Switzerland by way of torrential rain in the Basque region, the warm Mediterranean city with a laid back vibe had me hooked instantly. I had anticipated the German-speaking legs of the trip to be more my style, so connecting with Barcelona was unexpected.
We ate, we drank, we walked, we admired, we lived in Barcelona for the week we were there. We sang with the proud Catalonians at the Camp Nou, and saw FC Barca hammer home nine goals. We took walks along the beach front, and sipped lattes at beachside cafes. We explored the Eixample and Gràcia on foot, admiring the modernista architecture that makes Barcelona unique. We strolled las Ramblas at night, the trees illuminated and the pickpockets nowhere to be seen. We hiked to the top of Park Gruell and photographed the crisscrossing of contrails. We woke to the sounds of the bells from the numerous churches around our hotel, and saw the nuns walking to evening prayers as we went in search of dinner.
Barcelona is a beautiful city, and I would love an opportunity to return. I know the American agrees with me. I can only imagine just how crowded and bustling the city is in the summer.