San Sebastian:
Thank you, San Sebastian. I felt the creeping feeling of separation anxiety as we drove across the French-Spanish border, but you were able to lift my spirits as soon as we got to know each other, you were the perfect introduction to Spain. After gorging on a new ethnicity of food for dinner, our group took a walk through a nearby park filled with ponds and hydrangeas. I fell asleep that night with the feeling of humid air in my lungs and the park's overlooking view of the city fresh in my mind. The following morning started with gearing up for a hike up Mount Urgull and then a well deserved swim that would follow. On the top of the steep hill, besides sweaty tourists, there were historical ruins and views of the clear waters and brightly colored buildings that would take your breath away more than the hike up to the peak. Vibrant music and lively streets still made themselves heard even from the highest point of the city. The descending trip led us right to the bustling beach, filled with scurrying crabs, playful Spanish children, and saltwater that burned our sinuses as we dove under the crashing waves. Days with tiring activities like this always prove to leave the most rewarding feeling.
Pamplona:
Disclaimer: No, I did not run with the bulls, sadly. My first impression of the rich city was turned sour within the first meal in town, but fortunately there is nothing that preserved historical sites cannot fix. During our dinner, a gorgeous fish in a lemon white wine glaze was served, plated beautifully with the head still in-tact, of course. I thought this dish was a delicious and authentic representation of the local culture. However, a girl in our group decided that this fish head sitting on the plate in front of her was worth crying over. Ah yes, American culture. Thankfully, our intelligent tour guide brought us around to historical cathedrals, landmarks, paths of the bulls, and right past delicious gelato stops. Focusing my attention on the Spanish guide who was passionate about her city made me appreciate the proud locals around me. Their pride was well deserved, there was not a single misplaced red bandanna or unpleasant building in site. The hotel room I trudged back to after a long day of tourist activities was equipped with a wrap-around balcony. Before bed, my roommates and I took some time to enjoy our balcony views of Pamplona's night time lights. We woke up to enjoy the same lookout spot. This time soaking in the greetings of the warm early morning sun, rising to start another beautiful day in the same beautiful city. A day I was sad I didn't get to stay to enjoy.
Barcelona:
Pronounced: (Bar-the-lona), if you're speaking in the famous city's Catalonian dialect. I've always considered myself a passionate person. I feel passionate about writing, traveling, living for no regrets; but, my first night in Barcelona proved to me I know nothing about passion. After a five hour bus ride to the city, our group was awakened from our sleepy state of travel by our lively dinner show- Flamenco dancing. This performance was perhaps the most eye-opening experience of my entire trip; however, I cannot find the words that would do justice in describing the art. Between the guitar players, singers, and dancers, there was an energy used to communicate each artists next note or movement. This energy kept them in tune with each other to create a completely authentic, organic performance consisting of only the guitarists, singers, dancers, and the intense passion for their art between them. I left the small and personal performance hall completely starstruck. Waking up the next morning to realize my dream of becoming a Flamenco dancer wasn't a reality was hard to accept, but there was too much to experience in one day to spend my time pitying myself. The ninety degree day consisted of lookout parks, line dancing with our jubilant tour guide, lunch in the main strip's market, and shopping. So much shopping. The five hours of shopping almost counting for as much cardio as the next day's activity- the final beach day. Technically this day trip from the busy streets of Barcelona was spent in the Mediterranean city Sitges, a coastal town that seemed to sparkle in every aspect. Before leaving for a day in the sand and sun, I fell in love with a man in Barcelona. He's a genius, he's innovative, he's an architect, and he's also dead. His name is Gaudi, and I was in complete awe with his blend of art and mathematics with just one look at his unfinished cathedral and whimsical park. After admiring the works of this newly respected creative genius, we spent our day frolicking at the beach. We played in the saltwater, floating on the surface, and choking as we inhaled the water as we laughed. We slept on the sand until we had red skin, burned enough to become white with the stinging touch of a fingertip. We laughed until our stomachs hurt, and we were convinced the only way to feel better was to savor every bite of the paella served for our final dinner. My last day of this Spanish adventure was a dream, and I'm just waiting until I can fall asleep again.