I never thought I could like a language as much as I'm liking Catalan. Even as I don't understand half of it, half the time. It's brilliant. It's a bit Portuguese, a bit Romanian, a bit Spanish, it's sometimes kinda French. It's phenomenal to decipher. A bit Neapolitan. Sorry, they keep coming to me.
It's a treat to immerse yourself in, so much so that contemplating travel to other parts of Spain is starting to lose appeal. I've got a friend who's holidaying in the south now, and I'm finding myself thinking "myeah, but it's the south". You know? It sound arrogant and stupid as hell, but some places just swallow you whole.
I remember reading one of my favorite writers, Lionel Shriver, describe her experience living in Ireland during the conflict. I remember thinking doesn't she think she's all that when she described in detail how caught up foreigners got in the conflict, how wholly they absorbed the place, its stories, its difficulties. I didn't think you could feel that about the place.
But just look at it.
Even leaving for other parts of Catalonia feels a little stale. Why would you ever leave Barcelona? Gaudi rarely left Barcelona, in all his many years. He was a fierce Catalonian and occasionally ventured to other parts of Catalonia (though even those very rarely). He refused to leave.
He relied on his benefactor, the very famous Mr. Guell, he of park fame, to supply him with books and news of the outside art world. It wasn't as if Gaudi could go online and Google whatever artists were up to in France.
This is a long preamble that only very loosely ties to the pictures in this picture-post. Basically, I went to the outskirts of Barcelona the other day to see a park. Then, coming back, I got out at Diagonal, as I wanted to stroll down Passeig de Gracia. Endless. Stunning. I could walk it a million times.
I had my camera with me from the park, and ended up taking a few photos I wanted to share with you. 'Cause I like what came out. More so, how could you not want to see it?
It's the kind of place that, despite being a very busy touristy boulevard, it doesn't lose one bit of appeal. It's that beautiful that all the McDonalds and the Mangos and the Zaras that dot the foot of buildings fail to take aware from it.
I'm aware the title of this is deceptive, as you can't actually see much of the sunset. Sorry, but while some places require a magnificent sunset to make them worthwhile, others really don't. This is one of those.
Everywhere you look, there's something worth seeing. An arch, a balcony, a doorway. Several glass gates that allow you to peer inside old, regal buildings.
Then there's the spirit of the place. To say Barcelona's friendly would be doing it a disservice. It's warm. It has none of the lameness of the word "friendly". It's warm, but it's got its own laws, its own integrity. It's a challenge, but one you're welcome to adapt to and mould yourself to.
It's a city of boundless energy and panache you hope will eventually stick to you. Or at least, it is to me. I wonder if the people walk around feeling they're people of Barcelona. it seems so to me. All the people I've met who've adopted this city as their own (and there are many) seem to have done so wholeheartedly, with great willingness. This isn't a place you just alight momentarily. If you want to be here, you're here fully. Not forever, but as long as you're here, you live and breathe it.
I fucking love it.