When Do You Know You’re “Home”?
I’ll hold off on the clichés if you can put up with a personal story.
The Gothic District of Barcelona is a winding maze of cobblestone alleys which feel more like tunnels than open-air streets. Tiny iron-gate balconies hang above you 5–7 stories high, draped with vines and other creeping plants. A resident might step out of their dark abode and light up a cigarette and stare down at you with an unflinching gaze. To them, you’re nothing but a plump, fumbling tourist treading on ancient land. Even if you’ve lived here for a while, the secrets are still tucked away in historical, cultural, and linguistic pockets — they are not, and will never be, yours to comprehend.
But if you tilt your head back, throw on a grin, and wave up at them, they’ll wave back.
Barcelona is a cosmopolitan city, the capital of the Catalonian region of Spain. People from cultures all over the world flock here for the warm weather, the beaches, the Mediterranean food, and the relaxed lifestyle. For such a worldly city, however, it can sure feel sleepy sometimes.
