Barcelona baby, you have my heart

Barcelona baby, you have my heart

The beginning of a beautiful and passionate love affair with this vibrant Spanish city.

I’ve been in Barcelona one week and I already never want to leave. I love everything about this place – the people, the food, the architecture and culture, the fact that there’s some sort of music festival on every weekend. It all seems too good to be true.

Of course everybody I spoke to before leaving warned me. “You’re gonna love it,” “it’s a beautiful city,” “you won’t want to come home” and all that jazz. And I knew I would, I just didn’t realise to what extent.

That’s right Barcelona, I don’t say this often but I am head-over-heels in love with you.

I knew it from the moment I stepped out of the airport. You had me hooked with your glistening sunny skies and glamorous ancient architecture. I was eager to see more of you, learn your history and explore the depths of your streets. So eager that I ran straight up to the first taxi and whipped open the door, ready to jump in… only to realise I’d gone to the driver’s side and was about 6cms off sitting on a random Spanish man’s lap. Whoops. At least I gave the five other taxi drivers standing nearby something to laugh about for the rest of their day.

On the twenty minute drive from the airport to the house I’m living in, I didn’t take my eyes off you. I was like a kid in a candy store, gazing around with a wonderstruck look on my face. I tried to take note of the useful things my taxi driver was telling me but my mind didn’t want to listen, it was too preoccupied with the view outside my window. Pulling up at the house, I felt a weird rush of adrenaline cycle through my body. Not sure if this was caused by the exciting prospect of seeing my new temporary home or because my body was kicking off about 4 hours of uncomfortable aeroplane sleep but either way it was a good feeling. After being buzzed inside, I made my way up eight flights of stairs before reaching the front door. Good news: turns out I’m going to have buns of steel by the time I leave Barcelona. Bad news: I was heaving and sweating like a baby gorilla as I walked through the door to meet my new housemates. Though their friendly smiles and the cold beer I was handed showed me they didn’t care too much. It was todo bien.

Just like everything here, it’s all good. All amazing, even. I feel like I’m stepping into a Disney movie every time I stroll down the streets. I get lost in another world when jogging down the boulevard. The city is alive and bustling all hours of the day but not in too much of an overcrowded, touristy way. The beaches are full of bikini-less bodies and nobody gives a shit what you are or are not wearing. There’s culture and art and alleyways with funky little vintage clothing stores. There’s hidden bars and tapas restaurants and nightclubs for a solid dose of dancing. You can drink beers on the beach, in the park, on the way to the grocery store, wherever you like. Unlike any other city I’ve been to, Barcelona manages to provide the perfect balance of chaos and calm. I can see why so many people come here and never want to leave.

Now I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life but if you have the chance, come to Barcelona. Work your butt off, save up a coupla grand, book a plane ticket and just get here. Trust me, you will not regret it.




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