Spain Immigration and Life in Spain: My introduction to Barcelona began with the 1992 Olympic Games. I still vividly remember the spectacular moment during the opening ceremony when a blind archer shot an arrow to ignite the Olympic torch; to this day, I consider it the most imaginative and brilliant lighting ceremony in Olympic history.
Traveling north along the Mediterranean coast from Tarragona, it takes less than an hour to enter the city of Barcelona. As the largest city in Spain, it is traversed from southwest to northeast by the Avinguda Diagonal, a major thoroughfare with a central pedestrian walkway. The city center is densely built, with numerous small streets dividing the city into a dense grid. Most are one-way streets, alternating directions in a regular pattern, which is logical once understood. What makes them difficult to distinguish are the identical intersections; especially for those of us driving into the city for the first time and unfamiliar with the street names, passing a dozen intersections can make you doubt whether you have missed your target and strayed far from the center, when in fact, you haven't gone very far and the destination is still ahead.
Barcelona is also filled with historical sites, but after visiting so many large cities and small towns, one's interest in similar architecture gradually fades—we were here to see Gaudí. The forever-unfinished Sagrada Família is hidden in the heart of the city, tightly surrounded by buildings; you only see the construction spires and cranes when you turn the corner at the nearest intersection. The queue of tourists waiting to buy tickets looked like a thick, long dragon wrapping around half the church. I found the front of the line, asked how long they had been waiting—nearly an hour—and decided to leave!
After checking into our hotel, we went online to buy tickets, then headed back out by taxi. The driver was an elderly Spanish man who started chatting with us enthusiastically. I spoke English and he spoke Spanish; we each spoke our own language, understanding little of what the other said. When we were close to the Sagrada Família, I suggested getting out to walk and look around, but the driver's demeanor changed instantly. When I asked to pay by card, he refused! The old man was furious and drove aggressively until he found a bank ATM on the side of the road, forcing us to withdraw cash to pay the fare. The withdrawal process was not smooth, and the driver kept the meter running the entire time he waited for us to find a bank and withdraw cash, charging us an extra 2 euros. It wasn't much money, but his constant angry ranting annoyed me. Although I couldn't understand what he was saying, I could read his expression, so I didn't hold back and told him, "I have never seen anyone as terrible as you!" regardless of whether he understood me or not.
I must give a thumbs up to online booking; it is convenient and time-saving, sparing us the misery of queuing for all the visits. We felt like VIPs, walking straight to the ticket window, showing the photo on our phones, and scanning through—yay! Truly efficient. In half an afternoon, we completed visits to three of Gaudí's masterpieces: the Sagrada Família, Casa Milà, and Casa Batlló.
The subway station was right in front of us, and we decided to take the train instead of a taxi. The self-service ticket machine was a real test of intelligence. A bystander came over to help but failed, so I switched to another machine and did it myself—OK! Just as I was feeling excited, the bystander reached out for money. My husband picked up a coin from my hand to give him, but he complained it was too little. My husband pulled me away; I had never seen such a rogue. Entering the subway station, we waited for the purple line based on our experience in Madrid. After several trains passed that were only green, we asked around and learned that they don't have that kind of distinction here. It seems old experience doesn't always work.
The hotel receptionist mentioned that a highland in the southwest of the city offers a panoramic view of the entire city. As the sun was setting, we climbed up to look out over the city, which was bathed in a golden glow. Holding a map, we tried to take a shortcut back to the hotel and inadvertently found ourselves strolling along a pedestrian street. This area was far from the tourist attractions, and we saw no other tourists, only local residents. We sat on the street like locals, ordered a bottle of Spanish red wine, and enjoyed delicious Spanish seafood paella cooked by a Pakistani chef while savoring the wine.