Sitting here at my desk, listening to Heroes del Silencio – Senderos De Traiciòn, an album I’ve been stuck on since my return from Barcelona, I cannot help but recall every single moment of that trip. From flying above the clouds and the landing over the sea, parallel to the Spanish coast line, the endless blue beyond the mountains, to the beach. But the strongest memory of all, is that crossing on Carrer de la Marina where you see Sagrada Familia in the distance when looking right. Just before you stop for a morning coffee at Couleur Café, on your way to Parc de la Ciutadella. Where once seated on a bench, you end up being asked by an elderly local if he can sit next to you. Even though you tell him in broken Spanish that you are not a Spanish speaker, he just smiles and says that it doesn’t matter, we can understand each-other anyway. He sits, reads his newspaper while you drink your coffee and eat your muffin, and when he’s done, he gets up, turns towards you and says goodbye, smiling. You get up, you start walking, and you turn Senderos De Traiciòn into the soundtrack of the journey.

My first stop after checking-in was Barceloneta: walking in the evening on the sea front, people watching, talking to strangers. I ended up wandering up and down in the area quite a lot during my stay there. I even booked the hotel close to it, on purpose. The warmth and the salty air made it feel like Autumn was far away, like it was still the middle of Summer. Street musicians were displaying their talents on the sidewalks, bands were preparing for filling the evening with music at the restaurants close to the seafront, and people danced. The esplanade was getting ready to welcome its nightlife guests.

I filled my second day with a stop at Museu Picasso de Barcelona, getting to see his less popular works and learning about his transition to Cubism, his life and his contribution to the city. I visited Barri Gòtic (Barrio Gótico) and allowed myself to get lost on its narrow streets. Some of them were deserted. I would have loved visiting the neighbourhood during my goth years, when I was fascinated by everything about this subculture, from its music, history to especially its architecture. A delicious meal in Mercat de la Boqueria was all I needed after more than half a day of walking around. The market is very animated: so many dishes to chose from, so many flavours and scents. Too many tourists. And as always, I ended up walking around the streets, sometimes in circles, sometimes getting a bit lost, up to the point where my feet gave up on me and my stomach made it clear that it needs proper food. It was already evening by then, so I ended up having dinner in Restaurante Sancho, a bit on the outside of the super-touristic areas, surrounded by what seemed to be only locals enjoying their dinner and drinks. The lady at the bar was amused when I asked for a very cold drink. She was very nice. By the time I finished my dinner and started walking back to the hotel it was already dark.

As I said a few rows above, I did a lot of walking around Barceloneta. While aware of the fact that I was in a fascinating city, with so many things to see, I spent almost a whole day recharging my batteries on the beach, in the sun: barefoot, trying the water, washing off sand by the beach showers, and doing more people watching. And trying to take in enough sunshine to last me for the long and dark Swedish Winter.

Of course, the main event of the trip was the SRB concert that I already wrote about here. But between queueing for the concert and riding the adrenaline rush of the event, more walking around happened. Visiting Gaudi’s houses, strolling down the big avenues, taking a break in Plaça de Sant Felip Neri, shopping for paella spices and saffron, and ending up eating a whole pack of jamón while walking down towards Sagrada Familia. Which is beautiful from every side. And in general trying to avoid very crowded places. But the more popular the attraction, the bigger the crowds. Yet, for such a popular destination, there were streets and squares that were not suffocated by tourists, enough hidden sides where you could catch a glimpse of the local life and blend in.

But after the last note of the concert was heard and the clapping and cheers vanished into the silence of the night, after bags were packed and the alarm was set for an early morning departure, it was time to head over to the airport and leave behind the lively city, the friendly people, the beach, the sunshine and the sea. Yet not before making a promise that one day you would return so you can see those places all over again, and discover others that you haven’t had time to see this time around. And maybe attend another concert.