Barcelona brings out the most intense parts of my personality, which is difficult when you’re trying to act like the ‘cool girl’ infront of everyone you meet. This all started with, straight into the city, an argument with my Dad whilst trying to finding the hostel I’m staying at. I had a nasty mix of hormonal sweats, 3 hours sleep and getting triggered by not being listened to, so the ‘cool girl’ disappeared VERY quickly. This was almost made even worse by the bar that had united me and my Dad on every single holiday (whilst being heavily romanticised by us both) being closed. Not even closed but completely gone without a trace. HOWEVER, this was a moment of choice, where I could choose the calm (not ‘cool’) girl, or the ‘psychotic’ one that comes far more naturally. I could break down, decide that Barcelona was nothing like I remembered and had romanticised, or I could find another bar and have the same drink for 50 cents more. This might sound like an obvious choice, but for 100 montaditos and my cocktail of bad coping mechanisms, it wasn’t too clear cut. However, I chose peace for the sake of starting my trip on the right way and a defiance to every version of me that has chosen the other option.
My ‘Cool Girl’ is a completely performative personality trait that is usually accompanied by people-pleasing. Appearing unbothered by everything and everyone, the perfect traits that change with each person. But through these choices, I chose to leave her behind. I’m done with pretending things don’t bother me! I am passionate and intense and if Barcelona wants to bring this out and show me how to handle the fire, then so be it. Death to the ‘cool girl’.
So with this mindset, I was happy. I’m finally in the city that I’ve been waiting to explore on my own for 8/9 years. I felt challenged by the weather as well as my own brain, and ready for a long sleep and an early night. However, I did a last bit of challenging myself before bed and talked with the girls in my Hostel Room who convinced me to go on the Hostel night out. Convincing me to go on a night out isn’t particularly hard, but I felt like rolling up in a ball under a blanket and not moving for twelve hours. But this night out ended up with meeting amazing people, meeting the stereotype of travelling and hostel living, ending up at Room and Opium.
Something that always sets me off is when someone I’ve been (slowly but surely) flirting with chooses the skinnier, white or blonde girl (or even bigger guy) over me. I had to re-write that sentence a few times because it’s no one’s fault, its not knowingly or deliberately most of the time, but it sets off my worst insecurities, rejection and abandonment wounds . Then this happened in Opium Barcelona, a city meant to be my happy place, and I was triggered, feeling like this whole trip wasn’t going to be for me at all, it was just the same shit of being at home in a warmer country. Usually it would set me off - I had a choice to act up to my psychotic woman stereotype that these poor people didn’t even know about yet- kick off and make a scene over two people I had just met and ruin the first day for myself or do something about it, that wasn’t the ‘cool girl’ or people pleasing, where I pretend like nothing is wrong and go back to entertaining whoever I’m with. Instead I could express I was feeling a bit naff but acknowledge that this wasn’t the end of the world that it felt like, it was just a reflection of something I’m insecure about and I could choose to do and be different. I left the club with some others that were tired and ended up skinny dipping in the ocean at 4am: something I’m not gong to forget in a hurry.
The next couple of days had been emotional and tiring, full of hot weather, irritation and having to challenge my thoughts over almost everything - which gets tiring after a while. But I also got to see so much beauty in places like the Palau de musica, my favourite café Satan’s coffee corner, Shopping with dad (loads of people think he is my boyfriend, which does not make me feel particularly comfortable, no matter how liberal I appear to be), dinners with Dad and sneaking off to the Erotic Museum by myself.
I also (finally) visited Egyptian museum (making notes for my dis). I’ve been obsessed with Ancient Egypt since 4/5 years old, and I’d been wanting to visit the museum for probably the same amount of time, but it felt different. Almost anti-climactic. I’m not sure why this is, but I think I’ve built the museum up to be this magical institute where I could run away to Barcelona and work there after I graduate, but it didn’t feel sparkly like I’d wanted - still amazing, but not sparkly. This kind of feeling was supported by moments of overwhelming emotion (‘oh my fucking god I can’t believe I’m here doing all of this on my own, I’m finally doing it’ and feeling frustrated, sweaty, irritated and managing fatigue, depression, anxiety and clear asshole tendencies. A lot of challenges for a holiday. A lot of this came from thinking about friends back in Glasgow, whether I should keep in touch or whether they wanted to know or cared what I was doing in teh first place. This was quite a difficult thought to wrestle with; yes, nt everyone wants to be bombarded with pictures of your sick-ass travels, but I was still feeling forgotten. I’ve set myself a challenge for Valencia to message each person that’s been on my mind and let them know. In the meantime I’m choosing to focus on the beauty instead of this spiral that makes me feel discarded, wandering through Europe trying to find someone to give a shit about me.
Some other beautiful things that I got to see where Placa de Catalunya / pigeon square and La pedrera by night. This was a magical, emotional, projection show matching the morals and ideals of modernism and Gaudi - an antidote to the industrial revolution and focus on nature which feels more appropriate now than ever. After all this big thinking, I went for Red wine, manchego and pan y tomate. A classy evening with a classy end. Then getting sunburnt for the first time, followed by a Flamenco and drinks night with someone I met on the first day. I took her to a horror themed bar that I’m obsessed with, then learnt she hates horror films, but she was the one who wanted to stay out, and it was a miracle I stayed awake AND found my way back.
The next day was my Dad’s last day in Barcelona, which marks the beginning of my predominantly solo trip, which is scary but okay. I’m feeling more comfortable with being away from people, dealing with the thought that leads to ‘they don’t care about me anyway and they’re better without me’. I’m just doing my own thing, and I’m excited to keep doing that. I worked on this post on the train to Valencia, where so much rest awaits me! God bless Renfe, and God bless the cool girl I leave behind in Barcelona.
Songs of Barcelona : Wildflowers - Alternate Version - Tom Petty : Barcelona - Freddie Mercury, Montserrat Caballe
: Barcelona - Jonah Kagen
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