The Road to Barcelona
A Sunday morning in Dénia, but not like the others. Today feels quieter, more laid-back. The sun has barely stretched its limbs, and already Taina’s alarm is buzzing insistently by my bedside. It’s 7 a.m., and the soft, mechanical sound nudges me into wakefulness. As I rise from my bed, I’m reminded, yet again, to take a deep breath and embrace the beauty of the world around me, in all its disarray. We’re due to hit the road by 8:15 for breakfast, but the morning refuses to follow any routine. There’s a slow chaos in the air a feeling that everything is happening all at once, yet there’s nothing I can do to slow it down.
Breakfast is at Carmen’s house. The air smells of eggs and fresh-brewed coffee. It’s a lovely spread omelets expertly made by Cansa, yogurt, donuts, and everything in between. A slight twist on the breakfast from last Sunday, but familiar enough to feel like home. After the meal, we share our goodbyes, always bittersweet ,and it’s time to hit the road once more. But I wish I could stay awake, just for a moment, and truly see what the world outside looks like. How do the streets of different cities unfold? What do the landscapes whisper? But my body protests. My eyelids grow heavy, my limbs unwilling to cooperate. I’m just not made for road trips, it seems. Relying on me for a full experience is like relying on a cloud to hold its shape in a storm there’s no steady foundation beneath it.
What I do remember is the incessant rhythm of waking up for toilet stops. Oh boy. It’s all a blur now, except for one thing: the entrance port from one city to another. It’s nothing like the usual police control points I’ve passed before. This one has only poles and a ticket puller like at a parking lot, where you grab a ticket and keep moving. It’s almost amusing in its simplicity.
Twenty minutes later, we pull into a small stop a place with a graffiti covered wall and trash scattered beneath the trees. The air is thick with the usual hum of a roadside pause, but there’s a bright spot. A view that steals my breath away: the ocean, vast and endless, with waves that seem to crash just for me. The blue of the water is hypnotizing, and my heart sighs, a little piece of my soul finding its home among the waves. How dearly this place calls to me. The Francesinha of Porto is a memory I hold close, but for now, I let Himee’s cheerful voice help me pull myself together, waking me from my sleepy stupor, filling me with just enough energy to appreciate the view, if only for a moment.
Soon, we’re back on the road, the hum of the tires beneath us like a lullaby, leading us to Barcelona. Compared to other Spanish cities, Barcelona feels… different. It’s as if every angle of the city holds a different version of the world. One street could be Rio de Janeiro, the next feels unmistakably European, while another seems to carry a distant hum of Africa. It’s a place where worlds collide, and I can’t help but feel a deep, quiet connection to something far beyond this moment.
As we finally reach our apartment, I’m struck by the interior sleek, modern, almost startling in its elegance. Black decor, shiny and elegant, has never looked so good. But then I turn my attention to the stairs. Oh, the stairs. Narrow, steep, relentless. No elevator to help with the burden of my suitcase. It’s a struggle to drag my heavy bag up each step, my body protesting at every move. And as the material of the stairs shifts beneath me wood, tile, stone I can’t help but wonder: how do people carry their furniture up these treacherous steps? It’s a journey in itself.
Finally, I reach the top. And though I’m physically exhausted, a wave of relief washes over me. The next few hours are a blur of love and laughter. I talk with my family, feeling that comforting connection no matter the distance. I share playful banter with the girls, and we laugh and have fun over a game of Ludo. I wait for my Mass video to download, the quiet moments of the evening settling around me.
Dinner is served simple, satisfying, a perfect end to the day. We toast with soft drinks on the balcony, the night air cool and sweet, and conversations flow easily.
As for Barcelona? Well, I’ve yet to see it in daylight. Today was the arrival, the settling in, the calm before the city’s vibrant energy reveals itself. Tomorrow, the adventure truly begins.
By Beatriz, #Yo Me Voy Pa’ España member
Your support is very important for us. You can help us by following us on social media and spreading the word about our project!
English 
Español
0 Comments