One year ago today, unaware of the complex changes coming in less than a months time, my flight landed in Barcelona, Spain and I was awakened to the bright colors, the movement of a city and its people. It was a time of discovery and adventure, made accessible by a friend showing me the lay of the land and providing a place to stay in the heart of Barcelona’s art district: El Born.
I have been traveling back there through memory these days. Going over the photos and the moments. The thought of the food makes my mouth salivate even now: fresh mussels in white wine with garlic and butter, those tart sardines, bravas with that secret sauce, and my new found love for vermouth with a twist of orange and a Spanish olive. I think about my walks, and how free I felt surrounded by other people all speaking different languages enjoying the day, the sun, and the joys life has to offer. I relish that time of sitting at a patio table, listening to the squawking parrots positioned in palm trees. I think of the sun in the day and the evenings cool temperatures. I stare at the artwork I brought back daily, the small boxes of photographed graffiti that hang on my walls near my bed, and the three bright colorful tiles I simply had to purchase to mark my journey.
Barcelona was an experience full of laughter and late nights. It was an experience I tried my best to take in while I was there. It was an experience, I’m only just realizing, that I never got the moment to fully process it upon my return home.
One year ago today I felt as though the sky was the limit, that adventure and discovery filled every corner, I felt my life in my 40s was about to take flight, and I felt as though nothing could stop me.
Within thirteen days of my return, everything changed. Portland shut down as so many cities all over the world did. All that color and laughter I brought back from Spain, seemed stripped away, set off in the distance. And now here I am. In a state I never thought I’d be living, trying to figure out how I get back home. I’m questioning every action I take, uninspired to make plans, sitting, waiting… and thinking of Barcelona.
What Barcelona showed me was that even in down time there is something to see, something to learn, an adventure around the corner. No this time of unemployment isn’t the same as a vacation, but it has provided a lot of time for me to explore new passions and learn more about myself. So often during this last year, I’ve made the statement that I haven’t been doing anything, but this simply isn’t true. If anything, I have been doing more than when all was normal. Maybe it was the street art of Barcelona that inspired me to attempt my own painting journey, watercolors being my preferred medium so far. Or that train ride to Figueres to walk through DalÃ’s museum that made me think, yeah Mom and I should start recording that fairy tale podcast we’ve been talking about for a couple years. Possibly, seeing the Flamenco dancers on my last night in Barcelona kicked me into thinking I could look graceful throwing a disc, why not take my neighbor up on the offer to learn disc golf. Even now, in the state of Tennessee, I search for waterfalls as I walked the neighborhood of Grà cia, never knowing what I’ll find but every few feet having to stop and say, “That’s beautiful.”
One year ago today, I was on an adventure, and the adventure (no matter where I am) is still going.
Writing on the spot 