Sojin Josephson

Back in the middle of February, Michela, Stas, Kim, Melissa and I started talking about spring break. I originally thought I would hit up the England, Ireland, Scotland trifecta solo or with friends I met here, but some of Michela’s friends from home (they’re studying in Germany and France) were planning a trip to Spain and Portugal. I decided that maybe a little sun and sand would be more fun for the time off, since I’ve never been on a real college spring break anyway, and that I would hit up the other destinations later in the semester. So we booked our tickets to Barcelona, to Lisbon and back to Milan, had a whirlwind month of travel and forgot about spring break. And then it came so fast we barely had enough time to think about how we had to pack for nearly two weeks in a backpack.

After arriving in Barcelona, we spent the first two days getting a feel for the city and drinking sangria before the rest of the crew showed up to fill the rest of our 12-person hostel room. Within the hour of their arrival, we were getting ready for our first night out in Spain—a place where a night out begins no earlier than 2:30 a.m. The next morning, or should I say afternoon, we tried to gather everyone to go to a recommended brunch place not far from the hostel before the walking tour. Minutes before we left, Stas realized that her 150-euro leather jacket she bought the previous weekend in Florence was missing. Stas, Kim and I went on a hunt for the jacket and, with no luck, missed the tour. But we found the brunch place, Travel and Cake, where we ended up going three consecutive days.

We then visited the Picasso Museum and had a relaxing afternoon. That night, we went to dinner at another recommended place—a Mexican place. I would trade pasta and pizza for guacamole and chips any day, so I was pumped. As you can guess by the time clubs open, everything in Spain happens late. You stay out until 6 a.m. and sleep until noon. Dinner was no different. We ate at 10 or 11 p.m. every night. And I thought Italians ate dinner late, but I was wrong. Dinnertime in the States is more like afternoon snack time for Europeans.

The next day, we walked down Las Ramblas for the tenth time, still trying to “strut” like the Cheetah Girls did, but an empty Las Ramblas isn’t real. The movie deceived us. That night, we went to the Magic Fountain of Montjuïc—one of my favorite things in Barcelona. The fountain is set to Spanish versions of Disney songs. The colors were so vibrant and the water misted everyone in the crowd. It was a great 30-minute show. After that, we had a 5-euro Asian dinner. Judging by the outside, I was skeptical, but it was actually pretty good.

During our stay in Barcelona, we spent a lot of time at Barceloneta Beach drinking sangria and people watching, but it wasn’t ever warm enough to swim or tan. We all packed for summer weather, but it was chilly the whole week. Another thing about Barcelona—you can’t sit and enjoy the beach because every five seconds someone comes by asking if you want a massage, a mojito, a tapestry, a tattoo or cornrows. Truly, it’s about five seconds on point.

On our second attempt, we finally made it to Park Güell. It had the most beautiful marble architecture (Gaudí mosaics), gardens and views. After dinner on the last night (about 12 a.m. at this point), the group mutually agreed to not go out. We stopped at a little grocery store, got chocolate and went back to the hostel to chat and pack.

The morning of our last day in Barcelona, Kim and I went to La Sagrada Família, a church designed by Gaudí. It’s still under construction and will stay that way, changing every day, for the next hundred years at least. It is the most beautiful structure I’ve seen in Europe so far.

Up next: Portugal