Barcelona: The One That Got Away

February 2025

In an alternate universe, I would have been studying abroad in Barcelona, Spain - if it hadn’t been for the Spanish requirement. Instead, my semester abroad took me to Milan. But one February weekend, I finally found myself in Barcelona, and as I strolled through Gaudí-lined streets buzzing with life, I couldn’t help but wonder - was Barcelona the one that got away?

My journey started, as many of my journeys did, with the classic recipe for chaos: a 6 a.m. Ryanair flight and yet another all-nighter in the airport. I landed musty and exhausted, but Barcelona had this immediate energy that shook the sleep off me. The city felt instantly warm and fun, with a kind of authenticity Milan never really had. I kicked things off with my first “hola” and then, in a very un-Spanish twist, a plate of pancakes for breakfast.

The day turned into a rhythm I’d quickly fall in love with: sights, food, sights, food, and then - just to keep it exciting - more sights. On the metro ride to Sagrada Familia, a kind lady motioned for me to hold my phone tighter. Classic Barcelona, I thought, equal parts chaotic and caring.

Standing in front of Sagrada Familia with music blaring, people dancing, and the crowd buzzing, it hit me: I was finally in the Barcelona. I linked up with Morgan from France and Kevin from Canada, and we headed to Catalunya for tapas at Txapela. Mussels were my order of choice, the beginning of a seafood streak that would define this trip. By the time Morgan and I wrapped the day with a tapas dinner at 10 p.m., it felt quintessentially Barcelona - late, lively, and delicious.

Sagrada Familia

The next morning, Morgan and I made a pact: oysters or bust. As seafood fanatics, we had to go to the Mercat de la Boqueria. I had my very first oyster there, with Morgan recording my reaction, and I swear the joy on my face was unmatched. The saltiness, the freshness, the pure ocean taste - I was hooked.

Oysters at Mercat de la Boqueria

From there, we walked to Barceloneta Beach. It was cloudy, but we camped out on the sand anyway, talking about life trajectories, happiness, and whether following a “plan” really matters. It was one of those conversations where time disappeared, and before we knew it, we were racing to Park Güell in my pink Messi jersey. Frolicking among Gaudí’s whimsical creations, we took a thousand pictures and invented stories about the designs - none of which were correct, but all of which were hilarious.

Barcelonata Beach

What stood out to me the most, though, wasn’t Gaudí or even the oysters - it was the people. In Milan, strangers rarely stop to say anything, but in Barcelona, at least twice a day someone would compliment me, ask if I was local, or strike up a conversation. The warmth was infectious.

Of course, Barcelona nightlife needed its own chapter. One mojito-making class at the hostel later, I had a new crew: Isadora, Emma, Any, and Alice. Together with Morgan, we embarked on what can only be described as a voyage. We queued forever at Razzmatazz and Pacha - two Barcelona staples - but when we finally made it inside, the night was electric. Dancing to “Si Antes Te Hubiera Conocido” with my new friends was one of those moments you know will stick forever, the kind that imprints itself so that every time that song plays, you’re transported back.

Pacha Barcelona

On my last morning, I lingered. I had one final breakfast and then walked uphill to the edges of the city, soaking in Barcelona one last time. The streets, the colors, the energy - they felt like they could have been mine. People kept telling me all semester that I “give Barcelona vibes,” and standing there, I saw it too. A version of me could have lived here, studied here, become a little piece of the city.

So, as I left Barcelona behind, I asked myself once more: was Barcelona the one that got away? Maybe. But at least for one weekend, we had our moment.