Excataluse me

Gaudy Gaudi's Skeleton House

I left Sevilla at 8 AM and found myself standing in the heart of a new ciutat, a little dazed and confused, by 11 AM.  Traveling alone, my too-outgoing self found three other American girls to make my Yom Kippur pilgrimage with. Kidding - they are all going to Sensation White, the international all-night all-white DJ fest in the Olympic Stadium. It was comforting to navigate the RyanAir and new airport system with them. When Jeanette and I stepped out of the metro at Passeig de Gracia (pronounce that), we were standing in front of a Gaudi palatial structure. Sightseeing wins from the first minute.

Also, my first RyanAir adventure of many is complete! The landing essentially felt like an interstratospheric crash. Then, a superawkward revelry horn sounded over the plane's loudspeaker. Good Morning, Barcelona!

My friend Julie's field trip to the National Catalonian History museum (tagline: "the memory of a country") was postponed so she took me home to her incredible apartment, a penthouse she shares with an Iranian, a Peruvian, and a Spaniard. A wraparound terrace, a full kitchen, a showerhead that I don't have to hold, and an empty bed... I might have to move in.

Barcelona, you are a real city.
And you have awesome basilicas on your mountains.
And sweet apartment terraces.

So far, I have spoken to 4 people in Spanish here and have had no problems with a Catalan language barrier. Catalan sounds and looks like the lingual lovechild of French and Spanish - natives of this Northern Medcoastal region are 'nationalists' to Catalonia, dedicated to their own culture, and would like to secede from the union. However, that hasn't happened yet and I'm still in Spain. Tapas bars everywhere. Beach a few blocks away. Fancy churches. A metro system. Why did I even bother leaving Seville?

Because they have Kosher meat here... TBC...