Visiting any of the "major" tourist attractions comes as a mixed bag to me. For one thing, I've yet to find one where the high entry price was worth the money (and not just there for the hype). For another, I can't deal with fucking tourists.
I know. Says the eternal tourist.
Except I don't do travel the way they do, and I pride myself on that. This morning, lured by discounts and the popular "must see" mentality, I found myself in Park Guell, one of the biggest tourist attractions this beautiful city has to offer.
I mean, with the discount, it was alright. I enjoyed spending time in nature. But all in all, I was vastly underwhelmed by the park itself. The tourist element did not help. I spent a good bit of time on the main terrace, which is where almost all pictures of Park Guell are taken. It's arguably the most Gaudi bit of the whole park and looks pretty neat in pictures.
I sat there, feeling the texture of the oddly-shaped benches, testing their curvature against my spine... fascinated. And more than a little disgusted. At us. At having gone from a "blimey look at that" attitude only a short century ago to "blimey look at me".
I watched as dozens upon dozens of tourists (all in the space of under ten minutes or so) sought out a nice colorful bit of the bench, then posed for dutiful husbands/fathers/besties/whathever poor soul they'd lured into it. For minutes on end with only minor alterations to their facial expressions or poses.
But then, you need at least a dozen photos to decide from before you take the big leap and... upload it to your socials.
I thought, really? You're in one of the most important (at least by popular regard) places in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and all you care about is your stupid mug? Jesus, talk about self-absorbed. I imagine these people's phone galleries are filled not with the art that this fascinating city has to offer, but with identical shots (since they all worked out their "photo face" long ago) with different backgrounds. Marginally noticeable since the focus is all on them, not the place they're at.
I thought, who wants to see you that badly? I don't know anyone who wants to see me. As I said, I'm still not on social media, but if I were to share photos of my trip on Instagram, it would be details and things that seemed interesting to me. You're not applying for new national ID. You're supposed to tell something about your brain, your interests, your heart.
If you remember what that is, even.
Of course, the truly disappointing bit, and the title of this post, is that while we may behave like we are the art pieces for these photos, we don't actually treat ourselves as art. We treat ourselves shittily. We disregard ourselves and only seem to value ourselves by how much ass or tit we show. Or muscle. Seriously, if I see one more pasty-faced young woman wrapped to a choke in showgirl shorts, I'm gonna snap. Most of these people have no sense of style, and you can tell by their expressions that the changing and growth stopped a long time ago.
Works of art are by definition never done and ever-changing. That's their charm. They say something, they're unique. They're challenging. You're only repeating the same one expression (the only one you believe to be acceptable because god forbid the Internet see a genuine smile) everywhere you go and mimicking a blast. I literally watched a woman pose as if she was laughing from ear to ear on one of the benches.
I thought fuck me, what happened to being too busy laughing to take a damn picture? Maybe even... enjoying the scene? Because here's the thing, you're only here a little while. On the planet. In Park Guell, that's a fraction of a milisecond in your blip of a life.
Why waste that being artificial? Feigning something that someone else told you you should want?
I bet you're reading this thinking this has got nothing to do with Park Guell or Gaudi, but it does. While Gaudi was quite a sourpuss and a puritan himself, he understood art. One conclusion I'm walking away with from Barcelona is that Gaudi would be tremendously disappointed of what has come of his life's work.
Imagine toiling your entire life to make something beautiful (whether to Senor Guell or to God, as in the case of the Sagrada), only to have it act as a background for some girl looking like a street-walker who's probably too busy deciding between Five Guys and McDonald's for lunch to even notice what you did there.
My Gaudi ants. My favorite picture.
