It’s been 16 days since I set off on the crazily last-minute second leg of my Europe trip.
More details on the rest of the untold stories (the tears, anxiety, happiness, too many flights, overnight buses, etc.) another time.
I’m currently in Barcelona. I didn’t expect to love it – in fact, I never really desired to go to Spain. I had this preconceived notion of it being too hot and touristy. I threw it in my itinerary last minute after talking to a well-travelled friend (yay, Muirs!).
I love Barcelona. It’s colourful (Gaudí architecture is mesmerising), buzzing, has lovely people, great food (those markets!), and has gems around every corner. I can’t rave enough about the architecture and Port Vell – oh my word, it’s one of the nicest waterfronts I’ve ever seen. I need to work on one of those luxury yachts.
I’ve felt slightly mental in the past two weeks (Germany, Greece, Italy, and now Spain). Every city, every country, has its quirks and own personality – but I must say that I left my heart in the UK. Probably forever. Barcelona is definitely my favourite of the places I’ve been in Europe thus far.
I’m too tired to write anything else (it’s a Domino effect, because now I’ve forgotten everything I’ve done in the last two weeks based on being too tired to write, though) – so I’ll sum it up with the photo essay below.