Two years ago, I had the opportunity to visit Spain and France for ten days with my high school. Life was great in France – my stomach was full of croissants and nutella, I smelled of the lavender fields in Avignon, I twirled around in the gardens of Versailles, and my instagame was at its strongest. On our itinerary, we had one full day in Barcelona before we spent two days relaxing on the beaches of Costa Brava. Barcelona seemed at best, a pit stop between France and the beach.
My day in Barcelona was the best day of my life. I roamed the shops of La Rambla, visited the (outside) of La Sagrada Familia, ate paella and tapas, explored Park Güell, babbled on about the genius of Antoni Gaudí, and watched an underground flamenco show. The next morning before my group left, my tour guide graciously accompanied me in the pouring rain to go revisit the Sagrada Familia and try to get inside, but the line proved insanely long even on a rainy weekday morning. Instead, we visited some of Gaudí’s other works such as La Pedrera, Casa Calvet, and Casa Batlló.
Ever since July 6th, 2014, I longed to return to Barcelona. The city was vibrant, passionate, and just sublime. Now, I am no longer junior in suburban upstate New York high school, but somehow miraculously survived freshman year (??) at this wee place called Stanford University. Through our overseas program, I’m able to spend three weeks in the city I love the most, studying a topic I’m highly interested in : Global Health and Migration.
The journey begins Thursday, June 16th, and ends Wednesday, July 6th. ¡Vámonos!
All my love,