Silence and Echos in Barcelona

Tarragona Amphitheatre

I recently had the most amazing trip to Barcelona. And it left me thinking.

Flying in, I could see from my window seat both the Mediterranean Sea and the Pyranees Mountains. I was in awe of the magnificent natural beauty. I had no idea then just how important the following week would be for me.

Upon reuniting with friends I had made during my sojourn in Morocco last summer, I immediately felt at home in Barcelona, even though it was my first time in the city. While it is an incredible place, the reason for my sentiment was that my heart was full and my soul at ease among these kind, kindred spirits. 

Barcelona is a grand city, equally full of life and history. In the most relaxed way possible, my friends and I wandered around the city, taking in the views by day from Parc Güell and Montjuïc, and at night visiting the Picasso museum and strolling through the Gothic Quarter in search of a speakeasy. We were overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the heavenly La Sagrada Familia. We walked barefoot on the beach in La Barceloneta, and found a jungle gym to climb on that provided a nostalgia for the days of childhood joy. We quickly adapted the local way of eating, taking long lunches, sipping sangria and observing the people in Plaça Reial, and finally closer to midnight searching for tapas and a glass of wine. 

While we had a lot of catching up to do, sometimes while walking through the streets, moments of quiet contemplation would enter, each of us peacefully reflecting within ourselves, but never losing step with one another. Inevitably, this spell would be broken when someone would remark about how silent the city was. People out walking and cars driving by told us we were not alone, yet the silence was profound. It was in these moments of stillness that I could hear my heart trying to tell me something. These reflections were only a feeling until they reverberated, echoing off the sun-drenched stately buildings through the air and back into my ears. "This is happiness," they told me. 

We were able to take two road trips during our time in Barcelona. We visited Vic, a small medieval town north near the mountains. There was snow on the ground and we quickly sought warmth in a café. When we timidly asked the owner if she spoke English, she shook her head, and then asked loudly to the entire cafe if anyone there could. No one did, but we managed to get by with some familiar words and a lot of smiles. The whole town was lovely like that. 

Driving in the opposite direction down the coast, we also visited Tarragona, a beautiful city with a Roman amphitheatre overlooking the water. For the entire week, we had been amazed at the sheer silence of Barcelona, but sitting in the amphitheatre, we could hear from many blocks away, the loud cheers of the football fans celebrating the goals of their team. I don't know whether their team won or lost the game, and at the time neither did they, as it was only just beginning. Yet their joy pushed through the silence, their celebration of a little victory drowned out the doubt concerning the future. 

We sat, my friends and I, on the stone seats in this amphitheatre, and imagined that two thousand years ago, a group of friends just like us had sat here to watch a match (probably of man and beast but that's beside the point), listening to the waves crash on the beach behind them, and watching the same sun set as we were watching now. Despite the changes in society, technology, and pretty much every facet of exterior life, some things remain constant. Tragedy, like many that had likely occurred in that very arena, sadness, and loss are facts of life, but so are happiness, light, and love. Storms will pass, and the night will always give way to the day.

My lesson from Barcelona is to make every moment I can a celebration of the fact that I am even here, alive on Earth in this time, surrounded by loving family and friends, healthy, and that my biggest worry is that there are so many possibilities for the future I'm not sure how I will ever choose. I think it's best to do as the Beatles sing, and when asked where I'm heading next, say "I'll follow the sun."

love,

greer