more tapas, no tan lines
on a nude beach in Barcelona, I remembered who I was
We touched the African continent on our layover in Melilla. We literally touched the ground with our hands.
And after three days in Madrid, I was happy to land in Barcelona. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy the capital - hugging trees in El Retiro, browsing the Prado Museum, and eating bocadillo de calamares outside Plaza Mayor.
2023, Park Güell, Barcelona, España
But being welcomed by the coastal energy (free) and the private, luxury ride to the Ohla Barcelona Hotel that also greeted us with champagne (not free) warmed my spirits in a way only beach towns can.
And the next three days would prove to be just enough time to be a tourist - from tapas and sangria at Casa Loleo, fireworks over Barceloneta for the La Mercé celebration (one of many benefits of visiting in late September), being a Cheetah Girl in Parc Güell, and cramming every other moment with as many attractions from my carefully curated list as possible.
However, three days is not enough time to truly dive into a city as vast as Barcelona. I had just dipped my toe in its waters. And I knew that.
This loomed above me like a cloud throughout the trip - every walk, train ride, every pose for a photo. I felt the timer counting down on my introduction and was already thinking about how I wanted to fill a future return for the full experience I desired.
And in the final 24 hours of the countdown, I caught the train from the Gothic Quarter to Barceloneta for my beach day. I walked south until the sound of children became distant and the attire of sunbathers was noticeably more skim, and the looming cloud above my head dispersed.
I was finally present, enjoying my personal, traditional past time of visiting nude beaches on my travels (it’s about the freedom, mutual, unspoken respect, and beautiful lack of tan lines).
The sun kissed almost every inch of my skin for several hours. I read, listened to music, dozed off to the sounds of the Mediterranean. And eventually re-tied my bikini and walked back up the boardwalk anew. Ordering patatas bravas y croquetas, sipping an aperol spritz, seated on a restaurant patio facing the water. I watched people, was serenaded by live musicians, and let my mind wander. But this time, my thoughts didn’t focus on what I was missing on this trip - rather what I seemed to be receiving this entire time and hadn’t noticed until this moment.
What I was hoping to return for was not just something I needed to experience in Barcelona, but something I needed for my life as a whole.
To become immersed in cultures, not just have curated observations of them. To build upon the little Spanish I knew in connecting with the locals. To be entirely present wherever I was, letting go of worries about time running its course.
Slow, intentional, full.
In a moment of stillness, I accidentally tapped into a dream. In a place far from home I felt more at home than where I’d be flying back to the next day. And although I had never known the life I realized I longed for, I realized how much I was missing it.
-A
thanks for reading! if you’re more into the trip logistics than my love life lessons, check out the España setlists - curated lists of cultural favorites for your next trip to Madrid and / or Barcelona, Spain.
