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In Barcelona, it feels like summer. I have spent the week sitting cross-legged on the sand, listening to the ocean, drinking red wine outside with friends, taking day trips, dancing to Spanish music under flickering neon lights, and taking in as much of the city as I can.
I used to be afraid.
Afraid of crowds, of cities, of people. The bustling, scuttling rush of bodies heaving and panting and roaming the streets, darting past you. I used to try to find some solace and pause to the chaos in small, empty cafés or in my own home. Yesterday I roamed the streets with two other girls - like we do every Saturday afternoon - and close to the beach in Barceloneta we stumbled upon a large group of skateboarders. In the middle of that street, surrounded by a swarm of people, we watched skaters compete, passerbiers rooting them on, it almost felt as if the entire city collided together to join in on this arbitrary event.
I felt light. I thought about how the city is like this: spontaneous, free-spirited, frivolous but in a good way. Everywhere we go, we watch all of the people. There is always something happening. On the beach, the women are topless. Bodies aren't sexualized. Routine is non-existent. Everything is acceptable. You, in all your quirks and scars and flaws, are admired. I looked around and thought about how different and the same we all are.
Today when I met up with my friend for drinks, we ended up with a group of people from all over the world. We all joked about how you can never plan anything in Barcelona - something that you didn't expect to happen always does. We talked about languages, countries, people, and our relentless admiration for the city.
I don't know if I want to live in a city forever; sometimes I like the mountains, the ocean, the quiet. It feels good to feel like a part of something, but sometimes it feels good to get away from it, too.
On Friday we took a day trip to Montgat, a different beach that is only a train ride away. It was recommended to me by a student I tutor because there is less tourism there. When we got there it was like a small village. We wanted to have a picnic but as we looked around at the vacant, tiny streets we thought there might not even be a market around here. Then we finally saw someone walking around with grocery bags so we asked them where the nearest market was and he walked us to a small shop. They didn't have much, but they had baguette and beer and that was perfect. We spent the entire day eating sandwiches on a clear, vacant beach.
Lately I have been afraid of feeling like I am missing out. All of my experiences so far have made me crave even more of them, discern in more self-discovery, and I wonder if I will feel this full after my journey is over, or if I will constantly want to seek out new things. The thought of that scares me.
