Written by Eva Barnsley.
The Summer Diaries is a series of photo journal/diary entries from my 2018 Summer trip in Europe and South East Asia.
Leaving my bedroom in Hanoi on July 1 was the beginning of this dream. My walls stripped bare, side the spots of blue tack that dotted the walls. It looked so empty.
My mum (Cindy) and I got to Barcelona on July 2. I got a cold on the plane. Our hotel was located in El Gotic, by the Picasso Museum in a colourful little lane decorated with balconies full of potted plants and flags. Many of them very openly protested for their Catalonian rights. Being our first day in Europe, we relaxed, walked around and admired the Ciutadella Park, and had our first Spanish lunch. Here begins my six week long sangria endeavour.
The following day we migrated to our second hotel and walked around the city, past the Arc De Triomf, and to Plaza Catalunya. I bought a pink gingham dress, and on our way home came across the Barcelona Cathedral. Men smoking rolled cigarettes blew giant bubbles for the children while buskers played Spanish guitar. Walking around the stone streets of the gothic quarter surrounded by medieval buildings and dreamy buskers made where I really was.
After lunch, we went home to nap and ended up waking the next day. Another hotel move, this time to the apartment in the city center that we became most familiar with. The walls and ceiling were bare brick, and there a small balcony that overlooked the street. There was a bed, but we were more comfortable sleeping on the fold out couch by the balcony. I find grocery stores around the world fascinating and fell in love with the Zumex, an industrial serve-yourself orange juicer which I used regularly, it may have been the reason for daily supermarket trips.
The following day, my cough was only getting worse and after a coughing fit during a picture perfect breakfast on a European balcony, we decided it would be best to take a trip to the doctor. My highschool Spanish didn't carry me very far during the appointment. We took it very easy that day and I started being a little too hard on myself, wishing my sickness away which only stressed me out and allowed it to hold on.
After not even twenty four hours of being on steroids, I think (foolishly, I learn afterwards) that I am good to walk ten kilometers to the beach, along the harbour and back. We go to the aquarium the day after, sea creatures are insane. I don't enjoy seeing animals in captivity, and thought that an aquarium in a big city would be different but, despite the beauty of the animals, I couldn't get over the strange reality of watching other living beings through glass. The beach was ridiculously packed. Coming from Australia and living in Vietnam, I have never seen so many people crammed onto one strip of sand before. It made me kind of anxious, so we went to a little Spanish bar for sangria and wine with tomato bread. The only other customers inside were two old Spanish men sitting at the bar drinking beer. It was a much more authentic Spanish experience to what would have been on the beach. That night we went to the Picasso Museum which I couldn't film or photograph. Watching his transition from realism to complete abstract art was fascinating. Works from when he was a boy up until the end of his life.
One day, I am unsure of when exactly, Cindy and I went shopping and found colourful little stores in stone streets selling silver jewellery, incense, tapestries etc. I bought some rose oil and Om symbol earrings. There were some beautiful stores in Paris, and there were also incredibly stressful and anxiety fuelling chain shoe stores packed with busy shoppers. An experience is an experience.
The Barcelona five days in Barcelona flew by and I, carrying my bags onto a train headed in the direction of Paris.
The Barcelona five days in Barcelona flew by and I, carrying my bags onto a train headed in the direction of Paris.
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